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omegaremix · 4 months ago

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Captured Tracks, 2022.

What makes Omega WUSB great is how we create tributes as part of what we play on air. They allow us to get to know our favorite labels better and gives our listeners a nicer surprise from our usual spinning-wheel craziness. Most of them we previously featured are from New York City such as Sacred Bones, Hospital Productions, Wharf Cat, and Mexican Summer. Just recently, Captured Tracks joined that list of labels that deserved it. Do a little due diligence (say that three times fast) and you’ll see that Mike Sniper has had his hands in plenty of things. He owns the umbrella Omnian Group, does illustration for other artists, made music as Blank Dogs, and was part of other bands, too. And he’s owned a couple of record stores, too. Sideman Records was up for a couple of years until the y recently closed down, but his other store named after his Captured Tracks label, is still up. That’s good because I’ve been meaning to visit.

After Amityville’s High Fidelity wiped me out like no other (two visits cost me $893.00 in total), I had one more stop I was planning to visit and call it quits. That was Innersleeve Records until I took a better look at their sticker prices posted on social media. Right then and there I declared my island-wide record store victory tour finally over and any city-wide visit to other stores were treated as “bonus rounds”, which two visits to Academy’s Brooklyn and Manhattan locations already counted. Captured Tracks just posted some nice pics- of their stock and I’ve been meaning to go, so let’s give a proper end to a great expensive run.

I arrived at the Central Islip station, sweltering in the low 80’s and as bright as bright can be. The train took off westbound to Penn Station for a 75-minute ride. I told myself it was going to be a great day. When I did, I noticed something somewhat disappointing. Nothing said there was going to be pending thunderstorms for the next few days, but here they come as I looked to my right. Surely enough daylight went dark and it came down hard from Jamaica all the way to Penn Station. I didn’t come above and out to 34th Street to experience it because I went under to catch the ‘E’ line. Everyone waiting for the alphabet lines were baking and drenched in sweat from all the unbearable post-rain humidity filling the platforms beneath. Thank the Lord for air-conditioned transit. I got off at 23rd and Court Square to the ‘G’ and finally came up at the Greenpoint Ave. stop. It was all clear, as if the horrible weather never happened. You wouldn’t even noticed, either.

Down Manhattan Ave., I turn left on Calyer St. and look for #195. Where the hell is it? I look up and there was the wooden Captured Tracks sign nailed above the window. I wouldn’t have realized that I walked past it as it was perfectly blended in the residential buildings. How cute. I walk up the stairs only to be confronted by a closed door and push-button lock. It can’t fucking be. I look below and there was a flight of concrete steps leading to the basement entrance. Immediately I felt an amazing spell, as if I just discovered a well-hidden secret that almost no one knew. I never entered a music-store this way. That’s what made it magical.

I walk through the front door to find not that many people lurking for new finds. There were only three staffers: one behind the counter checking their Discogs store online, another restocking the vinyl bins, and the last sitting behind the desk in the back corner observing Lord knows what. None of them were Mike Sniper. I walk around the narrow space which was mostly nice and neatly organized; a cellar space adorned with chipped paint on the walls, pipes and valves that would make Super Mario and Luigi gladly pay their 100 coins a month each to live in. I reminded myself why I was here in the first place: to see if their selection matches that of what their label offered.

Captured Tracks were the kings of organization. Everything organized by genre, label, and artist name. Sure, they had the standard classic rock, psych-, and metal LPs. But walk around and they had a full selection of jazz, soul, and R&B to start. They carried several bins of classic disco and dance classified right down to the label. Salsoul, Motown, Casablanca - they weren’t handwritten but instead their tabs and dividers were logo’ed. Want classic motion picture soundtracks from the Eighties-on backward? Pre-war jazz and vocals? Reggae and Bollywood? Greek, Israeli, Brazilian, French, Italian, and Latin artists? They specialize what the other stores don’t. Almost nothing where it shouldn’t be.

First order of business was the cassette section nailed right next to the entrance. They had way less on the shelves than they posted and nothing got to me. In the middle of the store were…eight-tracks? Fifteen of them were posted on a board in the middle of the store. That’s all they had. If I had a player, then no doubt I would be even consider spending $30.00 for either Lonnie Liston Smith’s Expansions and Roy Ayers’ Red Black And Green for $35.00. Adjacent to them were a small pot of CDs, maybe no more that a hundred. So what did I say about how hard it was finding Suicide albums? For $7.00 I was able to get Alan Vega’s Mutator. What tasteless muppet who knows nothing about art and culture sold his copy back to the store? Which other labelmate of his was also in the pot? Marissa Nadler, of course. Her latest full-length The Path Of The Clouds cost $12.00, the highest-priced purchase of the day.

No record-store excursion would be complete without getting a crack at some jazz and fusion. Same to be said about what Roy Ayers records they had. Still no A Tear To A Smile, but instead Let’s Do It sitting in which I already had. But, going across I did find plenty familiar artists with albums I never seen before in the wild from Ron Carter, Ramsay Lewis, Jeff Lorber Fusion, Herbie Mann, and Hank Crawford. I had a chance to pick up two Kool & The Gang records: Wild And Peaceful and The Force. I held off because off of Wild And Peaceful there was “Hollywood Swingin’” and “Jungle Boogie”, and I wouldn’t have been happy if the entire record went in that direction. The Force reminded me that I wasn’t familiar with -The Gang aside from those two, “Summer Madness”, and Love And Understanding. Going a little bit to the right to Hubert Laws’ divider and I find found it: How To Beat The High Cost Of Living with Earl Klugh. That was a huge personal win for me. That motion-picture soundtrack was part of last year’s impeccable, memorable, golden Spring.

Captured Tracks had a small section for hip-hop / rap LPs and 12” singles. Nothing piqued my interest as I wouldn’t spent more than a few dollars on a piece of wax with one or two songs. Their selection of those artists jumped around ranging from Eighties mainstays to Nineties unknowns. The only thing I took with me from those bins was Kool Moe Dee’s Knowledge Is King and that was it.

I figured to give the soul bins a shot and I win another Blackbyrds record, a tattered copy of Bootsy Collins Rubber Band, and The Olympic Runners’ Don’t Let Up - one which would sound so familiar if you’re a Planet Asia & Talib Kweli fan.

Across from the front desk were two stations with four bins each of new arrivals with lots of rare, unknown, and obscure jazz, rock, soul, and soundtracks. Of the fifteen minutes it took me to thumb through it all, the only thing I saw of interest was Blank Stare’s self-titled. It may have been their only hardcore / punk title in the entire store Captured Tracks had as they weren’t known to carry much of it. During that time of lurking through their new arrivals did the staff bring up how much of a psychotic asshole Drew Carey was in real life, and speculated if his Hollywood personality was the reason why his then-wife took her own life. Their words, not mine.

But do give them lots of points as possible for having a straight, organized, and in-reach section of 45’s and 7” records (take that, High Fidelity!). I counted at least 50 categorized white boxes labeled with jukebox hits, punk, new-wave, jazz, country, rock, decades, and more. They had more than enough of reggae and soul with new arrivals of 45’s up for grabs as well with dedicated boxes of legendary artists (Elvis) and others divided and categorized. Good thing I’m still thirsty for Eighties’ hits from my Atari childhood and I bought plenty of them. Simple Minds, Janet Jackson, Kim Carnes, Thomspon Twins. No shame here, and neither should anyone feel it when they practice self-care.

Displayed were many top-dollar records on the wall and over the bins. Those carried the heaviest prices. A copy of Fear’s debut clocked in for $30.00 and The Dictators Go Girl Crazy goes for $40.00. Buzzcocks’ In A Different Kitchen and Sex Pistols’ Never Mind The Bullocks were stickered for $45.00. The Smiths’ The Queen Is Dead went for $50.00 and their self-titled for $55.00. The 7” records on the wall were just a criminal. $25.00 got you Merzbow & Gore Beyond Necropsy’s Rectal Grinder on blue vinyl. Another blue (transparent) 7” was posted which was KRS-One’s “Sound Of The Police” remix which went for $50.00 ($70.00 on Discogs at the time of posting). Two Pharcyde singles were also pinned to the wall: “Otha Fish” sold for $25.00 while “Passin’ Me By” was asking for $60.00. For a piece of wax? That’s insanity, but Brooklyn’s residents need to pony up that rent money, don’t they?

On the floor were many crates of $3.00 records which never occurred to me to burrow through, and they had tons of shelves of LPs under the bins but were marked ‘not for sale’. Might be for the better. It would’ve eaten up another hour-and-a-half of my time and maybe more of my wallet. On the other side was the usual classic rock every store needs to sell in order to stay in business. The most amusing? All the Eric Clapton records were under the ‘Craptonia’ section. (Either they hate his anti-masking stance or have a thing with loved ones falling to their deaths.) I looked through all I could and something didn’t add up: where were all those indie and post-punk / d.i.y. I was looking forward to find? I didn’t see any. I assumed Captured Tracks would carry that kind of stuff because they have Mac Demarco, Beach Fossils, DIIV, Molly Burch, and Wild Nothing on their label. And they’re from Brooklyn. How could they not have stuff like Yard Act’s debut release, Special Interest, Gong Gong Gong, Guerilla Toss, or anything from Wharf Cat? Which was why I had a field day at Rough Trade (before moving out of Williamsburg) and both of Academy’s locations. But at least they had a Thee Oh Sees record somewhere. That qualifies, right?

I’m about five minutes away from declaring an end to this year’s record-store victory tour. I took my pile of finds to the front counter to be added up. I asked the guy with the blonde hair and glasses if those records marked ‘not for sale’ were really off-limits. He explained that they were Discogs stock for the store and need to keep tabs on their stock, which was fine by me. Pain alleviated. He gave me a couple of titles for free and everything came out to $118.00 including New York State (vampire) tax. Good thing I brought two totes with me because I wasn’t taking any chances having my purchase melt in this 90* July heat. Not happening now, not happening ever. I thanked him for everything, walked upstairs and out on Calyer St. with my stash to a bright, clear, glorious Greenpoint sky.

**********

It’s over. It’s finally over. With me leaving Captured Tracks, the record-store victory tour has come to an official close. I did all that I wanted to do and then more. Almost two months of intensive free-spending without worry and practicing self-care and individualism to the fullest. I was the sun which everything else revolved around - the ventures to Queens and Brooklyn, Easter with my Italian Coney Island family, Roman connections, an ambitious Summer broadcasting season at WUSB, the spirit of Sacred Bones’ 15th Anniversary showcase permanently swirling around me, visits to the retro video arcade down the road from me, seeing friends from the Brentwood era, dinner in Calverton, and a small but all-essential conversation with my #1 favorite ginger. I’ve been spinning up some good spaces on the wheel with no signs of losing.

While walking up to Manhattan Ave. to catch the ‘G’ line, I noticed that a curious point of interest had its doors open. That place was Sunshine Laundromat, a locale I’ve read all about but been meaning to visit for the longest time. It’s an actual laundromat with a concealed backdoor that opens up to reveal a backroom pinball arcade. I never noticed it being there until now but finally I found it! It was only 5:45PM and I had all the time in the world to spare. So why not go in? I have nothing to lose.

I enter the laundromat and I slowly look around. It’s a very narrow space to maneuver around with only two or three pinball tables present and a wall of built-in washing machines and dryers. I notice a lady in the back sorting out a mound of clothes. Behind her is that door that leads to (multiball) paradise. I peer right behind her as she looks up and notices me.

“Hi! How can I help you?” she greets me with a smile. I told her that with genuine interest that I read about the laundromat and asked her if the backroom is open. She told me that they’re under renovations but also are awaiting to have their permit approved by the city. She also said that most likely if all goes to plan, then the arcade will re-open for business in a few weeks. It was alleviating news that made me feel good on the inside and made me walk out a more hopeful being.

It was a mood experiencing two crowded subway cars sharing cramped space with everyone imaginable. It wasn’t an eternal wait for the Central Islip line to arrive which the big ride out east was symbolic in itself. Not many people boarded the car I was riding. I sat facing away in the opposite direction. The 7PM sun in its intense beaming yellow glory was all alone in the sky with no clouds or miserable humidity to share it with. Both The Offset: Spectacles followed by Daniel Johnston’s “In A Lifetime” play along with the air conditioner’s cold snap on the way home as I think about what August and September will have in store for me.

The wheel landed on ‘DOUBLE YOUR MONEY’. I told myself it was going to be a great day. And I was right.

Jon Lucien: Premonition LP

Ron Carter: Peg Leg LP

Ramsey Lewis: Love Notes LP

Hubert Laws & Earl Klugh: How To Beat The High Cost Of Living LP

Weather Report: Tale Spinnin’ LP

Olympic Runners: Don’t Let Up LP

Bootsy’s Rubber Band: Stretchin’ It Out In… LP

Jeff Lorber Fusion, The: self-titled LP

Blackbyrds: Unfinished Business LP

Herbie Mann: Sunbelt LP

Hank Crawford: Cajun Sunrise LP

Kool Moe Dee: Knowledge Is King LP

Blank Stare: self-titled LP

Police, The: “Every Breath You Take” 7”

Simple Minds: “Don’t You Forget About Me” 7”

Bangles, The: “In Your Room” 7”

Thompson Twins: “Hold Me Now” 7”

Janet Jackson: “Let’s Wait A While” 7”

Kim Carnes: “Bette Davis Eyes” b/w “Miss You Tonight” 7”

Alan Vega: Mutator CD

Marissa Nadler: The Path Of The Clouds CD

#omega #music #playlists #mixtapes #personal #NYC #New York City #BK #Brooklyn #vinyl #records #Cd #cassettes #tapes #jazz #fusion #hip-hop #rap #boombox #pop #Eighties #vocal #punk

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livingthroughundeadmovies · 3 years ago

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Turns out all I needed was an emo goth Batman

I was never really into Batman. I watched the Justice League cartoon when I was a child and found him quite annoying. When Nolan decided to have a more realistic dark approach to the character I didn't care either. The first batman movie to actually catch my attention was The Dark Knight. Heath Ledger was set to play the joker and after watching Brokeback Mountain I wanted to see everything he was on. I loved The Dark knight, not for its main character but for its villains. It was the first Batman movie I enjoyed and was hoping to enjoy others. I waited eagerly for its sequel, gathered some friends, and went to watch it late at night at a local movie theater. It was a disaster, I abhorred that mess of a movie and was baffled by the audience clapping at the end of it.

At the same time, I tried reading Batman comics and watching the animated movies. I was at college by then and compared to the material I was reading at the time (and that included comics and graphic novels too) it was all disappointing and a bit fascist. Yeah, I am one of those people who hate Bruce Wayne for not using his money to actually solve Gotham's social issues. When the Snyder-Affleck Batman came around I was just pissed. Pissed they were trying to make more Batman movies and not exploring other heroes, pissed cause I really don't like Snyder, and pissed because I don't like Affleck either. I didn't even bother to watch them, all the things I heard about the "Snyderverse" were enough.

Years later here come news of yet another Batman movie (oh no, not again), but this had some interesting people attached to it. Matt Reeves who had worked on the Cloverfield and Planet of the Apes movies, and Robert Pattinson (my teenage crush) as the title character. A director with a background in horror/suspense and an actor most nerd men actually hated. I needed to see it. I was impressed when the first teaser came out, it really seemed like something different was on the way. There was no joker this time and the lights seemed to be on during the movie. After a wave of good reviews from different people I decided to go and watch it. I knew it would be a good action movie, and it was, but I also got plenty of horror elements I was not expecting.

Reeve's Batman is the first to incorporate all the horror symbolism attached to the character into the film. It can be noticed right at the beginning with the soundtrack, it could be part of an old horror movie. It is very dramatic with melodies that sound like a mixture of a funeral march with ave maria. It gets darker in the right scenes and grandiose when the action asks for it. The visuals are also horror-like, the Wayne mansion is Gothic and decrepit, the entrance to the bat cave is through an abandoned subway station, there is a forsaken orphanage, and an action scene set in a nightclub reminded me of Blade.

I feel the horror references of the film reach their peak in the construction of the villain. This Riddler is very different from the one played by Jim Carrey. His first appearance comes in the form of a scare. He simply appears behind a character in dark clothes and eyes glistening just like an evil spirit in a haunted house or the killer in a slasher movie. And speaking of slasher movies, the mask the villain uses would fit perfectly in an 80s slasher. Paul Dano’s performance is great as always, it is a chilling mixture of Zodiac and Hannibal, mysterious and scary, especially after the mask is removed.

The Batman played by Pattinson also gets to have some scary moments. He always comes out of the shadows as slow as Jason Vorhees using the fear he instills as his first weapon. There is a specific moment in which his car comes out of flames that reminded me of Christine.

There are many other horror references throughout the film’s almost three hours ( they even use the classic slasher trope of the killer is dead, oh not he is not) and I want to rewatch it to see if I can catch some more. I wonder if the success of this movie can inspire other superhero films to have those elements of horror. The new Dr. Strange is directed by Sam Raimi but I doubt Disney will let him be as crazy and scary as he can be. In any way, Reeves's new Batman is a welcome surprise both as an action film and as a horror one. I hope we can have more movies like that.

#the batman #matt reeves #writing #horror movies

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omegaplus · 2 years ago

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# 4,110

Captured Tracks, 2022.

**********

The wheel landed on ‘DOUBLE YOUR MONEY’. I told myself it was going to be a great day. And I was right.

Jon Lucien: Premonition LP

Ron Carter: Peg Leg LP

Ramsey Lewis: Love Notes LP

Hubert Laws & Earl Klugh: How To Beat The High Cost Of Living LP

Weather Report: Tale Spinnin’ LP

Olympic Runners: Don’t Let Up LP

Bootsy’s Rubber Band: Stretchin’ It Out In… LP

Jeff Lorber Fusion, The: self-titled LP

Blackbyrds: Unfinished Business LP

Herbie Mann: Sunbelt LP

Hank Crawford: Cajun Sunrise LP

Kool Moe Dee: Knowledge Is King LP

Blank Stare: self-titled LP

Police, The: “Every Breath You Take” 7”

Simple Minds: “Don’t You Forget About Me” 7”

Bangles, The: “In Your Room” 7”

Thompson Twins: “Hold Me Now” 7”

Janet Jackson: “Let’s Wait A While” 7”

Kim Carnes: “Bette Davis Eyes” b/w “Miss You Tonight” 7”

Alan Vega: Mutator CD

Marissa Nadler: The Path Of The Clouds CD

#personal #NYC #New York City #BK #Brooklyn #records #vinyl #omega #music #mixtapes #reviews #playlists #jazz #fusion #funk #punk #pop #synthpop #hip-hop #rap #golden era

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rmtndew · 4 years ago

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All I’ve Ever Known ~ Chapter 4

Summary: Fiona’s life is a shattered fraction of what it used to be. She’s trying to navigate her new normal when she meets Detective Marshall, who gives her something more to look forward to.

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This was intended as a short drabble but it got out of hand and became a multi-chapter story instead. It’s my first Marshall fic and the first fan fic that I’ve written in over a decade. The title comes from the song ‘All I’ve Ever Known’ from Hadestown: ‘I was alone so long, I didn’t even know that I was lonely. Out in the cold so long, I didn’t even know that I was cold. Turned my collar to the wind, this is how it’s always been. All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own, but now I want to hold you, too.’

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @readings-of-a-cavill-lover, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0-blog, @gearhead66, @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora,

If you’d like to be added to the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

I woke the next morning ten minutes before my alarm went off. At first I couldn’t figure out why and tried burrowing back into my warm bed to get my last few minutes of sleep back, but then my phone alerted me to a new text and I realized that’s what had woken me up. I sighed. I knew it was Darcy. Sometimes she woke up early with big ideas for her store and texted them to me, asking my opinion. She met me when I was working in interior design and any time she entertained the idea of having a dine in section, she’d send me pictures of what she wanted and ask how feasible it would be. Most of the time they were way too grand to fit into her pre-existing building. Other times she’d talk about a small coffee shop to encourage more people to come in and pick up their own orders and cut back on our deliveries. But I couldn’t see how renovating a portion of the store, buying new equipment and hiring extra employees to run a coffee shop would lower costs just by maybe cutting back on some deliveries.

I was planning on ignoring the text until after I’d actually gotten up, but when another came through I knew it was best to just go ahead and nip it in the bud before she sent me an entire magazine’s worth of photos. But when I hit the home button on my phone I saw that the texts hadn’t come from Darcy. I had to squint against the brightness of the screen to make sure I saw the name right. Marshall.

I sat up and turned on my lamp, then looked at my phone again, reading the texts from their previews.

Hey, it’s Marshall. I had a great time yesterday. Sorry I was falling asleep on you. Can I make it up to you this weekend?

Sorry. You’re probably sleeping. It might take more than coffee to make it up to you now. Dinner?

I suddenly felt wide awake and was no longer irritated by my few minutes of missed sleep. I would have gladly given up several hours for those texts. I decided not to reply to them right then, though. I wanted to make sure I’d had enough coffee to formulate a comprehensible reply and not look like I was drunk texting him, which I had a history of. My conversations with Darcy at five in the morning were proof of that.

I got up and went about my morning routine like usual, trying not to wake Mom. When I made my way downstairs, I poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table. I sipped it, thinking about what to say to Marshall. I wrote and rewrote the text half a dozen times before finally having something I felt okay with, then I sent it.

Hey Marshall. I had a great time, too. You don’t have to make up for anything but I’d still like to have dinner with you. What day did you have in mind?

My heart was thudding from nerves and excitement. I was so focused on trying to calm myself down that I almost didn’t hear Mom when she walked in.

“Morning, sweetie,” she said, grabbing a coffee cup.

“Good morning,” I replied, then jumped slightly as my phone vibrated on the table. I tried not to look too enthusiastic as I grabbed it.

Does Saturday work for you?

“Darcy again?” Mom asked, pouring coffee for herself.

“Um...no, actually.” I tried biting back a smile but it didn’t work. “It’s Marshall.”

Her eyes went wide and she smiled back. “He’s writing to you at six in the morning?”

“He actually wrote me earlier. He asked if I wanted to have dinner with him Saturday.”

She sat down at the table beside me. “What did you tell him?”

“I haven’t replied yet. I don’t want him to think I’m just waiting by the phone for him.”

She looked at the phone in my hand. “Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing, though?”

“Yes, but he doesn’t have to know it.”

She laughed then blew on her coffee. “I’m glad this whole texting business wasn’t around when I was dating your father.”

“Even if it was, you’re a lot more forward than I am. You wouldn’t have had a single issue with texting Dad first, or answering him right away,” I said. My phone made another sound, reminding me of my unread text and I finally opened it, then replied.

Saturday is perfect. What time would you like to meet?

“Well, there was only room enough for one coy person in our relationship and Rodger called that role,” Mom said after I put my phone down.

I laughed. “I don’t think ‘coy’ was the right word for Dad. I think socially awkward was more appropriate.”

“He was too smart to be a social butterfly, too. He had to have a couple of flaws.”

“He couldn’t set the timer for the coffee pot, no matter how many times I showed him, and he thought that the Sharknado movies were amazing. He had his flaws,” I joked.

“This coffee pot is confusing.”

“He was an engineer!”

My phone buzzed in my hand and that time I didn’t wait to open the text. I read it right away.

Would you let me pick you up instead? Around six?

“Well, what does he say?” Mom asked.

“He wants to pick me up instead of me meeting him.”

“Are you going to let him?”

I looked at her and she was smiling at me. I shook my head at her, laughing again. “You want him to come here so that you can see him, don’t you?”

She shrugged. “You keep talking about how handsome he is.”

“He is handsome. And it’s an awfully gentlemanly thing to do…” I bit my lip for a moment, pretending to think it over.

“Just tell him yes. We both know you’re going to.”

I gave another laugh. “Fine.”

I would like that, thank you. And I’m curious, what does Detective Marshall eat when he’s not eating a cuban sandwich and plain chips?

I put my phone on the table. “What are your plans for today?” I asked, then took a sip of my coffee.

She gave me a cheeky grin. “Changing the subject.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not changing the subject. I’m asking what my mother is going to be doing while I’m out earning the bread for this family,” I joked.

She snorted. “You don’t earn the bread, Fi, you just bake it.” She nodded at my arm. “And burn yourself in the process.”

“That’s the first time I’ve burnt myself in a year and a half. I’d say that’s a pretty good record.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And if you must know, I was thinking of going down to Valley and talking to Georgia about starting music lessons again after the new year. I think by then I’ll have recovered enough to be able to teach at least a few days a week.”

“You’re going to put yourself around snot nosed kids in the dead of flu season?” I asked dryly.

“I’ll be teaching teenagers, not little kids, and I’ll wear a mask,” she said. “I’ll make sure to clean everything between students and have them use hand sanitizer when they come in. I’m not going to be immunocompromised forever, and I’m not going to live in a bubble until then, either.” She gave me a smirk. “Besides, I can’t let you be the only one that earns the bread around here.”

I laughed at her but it was cut short when my phone buzzed again.

Stuff that’s probably not very good for him. Like Italian. How does that sound?

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any more attracted to him, he confessed to liking my favorite type of food. I couldn’t stop my train of thought that went to me one day making an Italian dinner for him as a date. But my mind’s eye set up the imaginary dinner in my old apartment and I knew that would never happen. I let that thought go and took a deep breath, trying to focus my attention on the present moment.

That sounds great. I love Italian food.

I sent it and sat back in my seat. I tried not to let my mind wander too far down the road with Marshall. I’d been on a lot of first dates in my life with guys that I’d thought were great who turned out to be jerks and I knew what that disappointment felt like. And even though I couldn’t imagine Marshall disappointing me in the same way they had - he’d proven at our coffee date that he was far more respectful, even while he was tired - I wanted to remind myself that I needed to take things one step at a time.

Perfect. I’ll see you Saturday at six, then.

I must have looked pretty gooey eyed over the whole thing because Mom reached out and touched my wrist gently. When I looked at her, the teasing tone was gone from her face and she was smiling at me. “I’m happy for you, sweetie. I really am.”

I was a ball of nerves all Saturday morning and afternoon. More than I’d ever been on the day of a first date. But nothing with Marshall fell into my ‘usual’ category. There was something about him that made him different from any other man I’d gone out with. And maybe that was it: He was a man. Not some boy masquerading as one. He was quiet, and fierce, and protective. He thought before he spoke. And even when delivering a threat - like he had to that creep in the bar - he’d done it calmly and with authority. He exuded confidence, not cockiness, and there was honestly nothing more attractive than that.

I was nearly ready, just zipping up my boots, when I heard a crash downstairs. I rushed down and found Mom in the kitchen, trying to pick up the broken pieces of one of her giant coffee mugs.

“I’m - I’m not sure what happened,” she said. “I just lost my grip.”

“It’s okay.” I took a step towards her, trying to avoid the pile of porcelain. “Let me clean it up.”

“I can do it,” she said, sounding flustered.

“I know you can but you’re in socks and I’m wearing boots.”

She stood her ground for a moment, then finally sighed and relented, taking a step back. “Okay. I’ll get you the broom.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it. Just watch your step.”

I went to grab the broom as she threw away the large chunks of her broken cup that she’d been able to pick up with her hands. I could tell she was frustrated.

“You know, if you didn’t like that mug, you could have just gotten rid of it, you didn’t have to break it,” I joked, taking the broom and dustpan from the broom closet. “Or were you afraid I wouldn’t take the hint and buy you another one if I thought it just went missing?”

She gave a small laugh but I could tell she was still embarrassed. “I actually liked that coffee mug a lot.”

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can -”

The doorbell rang and she stopped mid-sentence. We both froze, my eyes flicking to the clock on the stove. It was 5:53. Marshall was early. After a moment, Mom took a step towards me, holding out her hand to take the broom from me. I shook my head.

“You’re wearing socks,” I reminded her. “I don’t want you to cut your foot.”

Her eyes grew wide. “So you’re going to clean up after me while I go meet your date?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She brushed her hand over her barely there hair, trying to collect herself, then let out a breath. “Okay, I’ll go let him in.”

“Don’t be too charming. He might have a thing for cougars and I don’t want to have to fight my mom for a guy.”

She smiled for real, the embarrassment of having her daughter clean up after her letting go enough that it was no longer plainly visible. “No promises,” she joked, then left the kitchen to answer the door.

It didn’t take long to clean up. Even though the cup had shattered pretty good, its bright white color stood out against the dark wood of the floor, making even the tiniest pieces easy to see. After making sure I’d cleaned it all up, I threw away the pieces and put up the broom and dustpan, then went to find Mom and Marshall.

They were standing in the entryway. Mom was saying something about teaching at Valley and Marshall stood in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back, and a look of sincere focus on his face as she spoke. Mom was a small woman but next to him, she looked comically tiny.

I paused for a moment, taking him in. His hair looked a bit more controlled than any other time I’d seen him, his curls tighter and not quite as messy. His beard looked like it had been trimmed, giving it a purposeful look instead of the ‘I’m too busy to shave’ vibe that I’d gotten from him previously. He wore a thick blue sweater that made the color of his eyes pop when they drifted over to me. It was brief, maybe less than a second, before concentrating on Mom again. But he had a slight smile and it was enough for her to notice. She turned and looked at me.

“There she is. I guess I’ll stop talking your ear off and let you two go,” she said.

Marshall smiled at her, then at me, bigger that time. “I didn’t realize I was early. I apologize.”

“No, don’t. You’re fine,” I said, moving to grab my coat. “I’m ready, I was just cleaning up a broken cup. I’m basically like Cinderella around here.”

Mom snorted. “Hardly. Cinderella was made to do chores. You’re the one who won’t let me lift a finger,” she said. “Besides, I think she sang while she worked.”

I raised my eyebrow at her as I put my coat on. “Do you want me to sing?”

She shook her head. “No. No one wants that, sweetie,” she said, making Marshall laugh. She looked at him. “Fi spent a good portion of her teenage years screaming along to music in her room. I didn’t even know you could make ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ sound angry until she proved otherwise. Needless to say, her father and I encouraged her other interests a bit more enthusiastically.”

I grabbed my purse. “I should have let you clean up your own mess and answered the door myself,” I joked before kissing the top of her head. “Bye, Mom.”

Marshall smiled again. “It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Sparks.”

“Likewise, Detective Marshall. You two have fun.”

We left the house and after a few steps down the walkway, he jabbed his thumb back at the door. “She’s funny.”

“She can be,” I agreed. “She’s a spitfire, though, that’s for sure.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah, I like it, too.”

We walked to his truck and he opened the door for me. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” he said as I got in.

I felt myself blush instantly, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, closing the door for me.

We’d only made it to the driveway and my stomach was already doing somersaults. He made me feel like a teenage girl, all giddy and excited, and I loved it.

He went around the front of the truck, then climbed in the driver’s side. I tried to sneak a look at him while he was putting on his seat belt but he caught me. He smiled as I snapped my head straight ahead.

“Sorry, I just, I was…” I tried to think of an excuse but I couldn’t think of anything that didn’t sound lame. I let out a sigh. “I was checking you out,” I admitted. “I can’t lie. There’s no point. Sorry.”

“That’s the least offensive thing a woman has ever apologized to me for,” he said with a laugh, starting the truck. He leaned forward enough to catch my eye, making me instinctively turn my head towards him. He grinned. “Did you see anything you like?”

My blush deepened and I couldn’t hold back a giggle. “Maybe.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, that is a nice sweater.”

“Oh, so you were checking out my jumper?”

I shrugged. “It brings out your eyes.”

“Does it now?”

“It does. And you have very lovely eyes.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But my daughter bought the jumper, so I can’t take credit for it.”

“She did a good job,” I said, forcing my eyes to look up front as we pulled out of the driveway. Even though I’d already admitted to checking him out, there was a difference between looking and leering and I didn’t want to come off as creepy. “I take it that this wasn’t your weekend to have her?”

“It was supposed to be but she was invited to a Halloween party with some of her friends so she asked to do that instead. She’ll be with me tomorrow.”

“What did she dress as? For the party.”

“A cowgirl.”

“Does she ride horses or did she just like the costume?”

“No, she rides. She took lessons when she was a bit younger. And she and I go riding some weekends.”

“So you’re Detective Marshall during the week and cowboy Marshall on the weekends? Does that ever cross over? Do they have mounted police in the homicide unit?”

He shook his head as he laughed. “No, not that I’m aware of.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Is it now?” he asked, and his tone made me blush all over again.

“I’m actually not going to answer that. I’m going to wait until we get a little further from my house to fully embarrass myself so that when you fake an emergency to get rid of me, my ego doesn’t get too crushed.”

“Do you really think I’d do that?”

“I hope not, but I’ve been excited about having dinner with you, so I’m going to try not to mess it up.”

“I think you’d have to try pretty hard to mess it up,” he said as we stopped at the end of my street. He glanced at me. “And I’ve been excited about it, too.”

#Henry Cavill #Walter Marshall #Night Hunter #Nomis #All I've Ever Known #Walter Marshall fan fiction #Henry Cavill fan fiction #Night Hunter fan fiction #Walter Marshall/OFC #HenryCavillFanfic #WalterMarshallFanfic

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noocturnalchild · 4 years ago

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SEALED IN MARBLE Chapter VI Temptation for Dinner

Hot breath on his face, pretty curls caressing his cheeks, heavy lidded eyes burning holes in his soul, as her hips initiated a slow dance on his groin. He inhaled sharply, and his hands traveled to meet them, revelling in the feeling of satin soft sheets, seeking her flesh through the drapery. The touch felt deliciously sinful in its smoothness at first, and his lids fluttered, pleasure sinking in his guts, as his fingers started to dig, kneading the nymph like flesh of her thighs, then just when he was lost in his desire, his nymph started to morph, edges tickling his finger pads, quickly growing and pointing. He opened his eyes, panic overcoming him, and he looked at her, her lips twitched in a smirk Garupe only could qualify as… evil. His frightened eyes looked lower, at the place their bodies met, and he was horrified. Scales like those of a snake had replaced the silky skin, and there were no hips anymore, just one merged shape, snake belly, capturing his hips in a deadly grip , winding around him, tighter and tighter as his breath left his chest, emptying him of life…

Garupe startled awake. Sucking in a long shaky breath, he straightened in his drenched sheets.

Holy Jesus!

He reached for his body, it was just a nightmare. A nightmare that left him sweaty and… hard.

Mary have mercy.

He closed his eyes as the first words of Ave Maria left his trembling dry lips. He couldn’t finish, ashamed and frustrated. A deep grunt echoed in the barely lit walls of his room, as he shifted uncomfortably in his bed, seeking his water carafe beside it just to find it empty. Father Garupe almost sobbed. He was painfully hard, straining in his thin night clothes, his hands fisting the scratchy sheets, resisting the soaring temptation to touch himself and alleviate the humiliating pressure. He hadn’t felt like that for years. He had domesticated his instincts and carnal desires long ago, and it was one of those accomplishments that a man of god was proud of, giving him that heady feeling to be above men, and he was, he was until he saw her pretty mouth, whispering lavishly a name that wasn’t his, her lips, smiling seduction, chewing on the wood of her tools.

Garupe whimpered, mind foggy and full of her, as his hand reached for his length.

God forgive me

It didn’t take him long to finish, eyes tightly shut, head thrown backward on his pillow, thick locks of hair sticking to his forehead and the back of his neck as his mouth parted in a silent cry of ecstasy. Images of her flashed under his eyelids, fragments of memories of her touches that diluted as he came back from his high, guilt already tugging at the back of his mind.

He cleaned himself hastily, thinking of an early morning bath, before his brothers awoke. That dinner next day, he promised himself firmly to not go, as he joined the barely comforting warmth of his mattress, mind holding on to the thin consolation this thought provided.

“One of my dear faithfuls is very sick, in his dying bed, your Excellence; the family has requested my presence to administer the last rites and accompany him on his last hours… Tonight.” Francisco lied through his teeth, so easy now, he lied constantly. To the bishop, to Clarissa and most unnervingly to himself, he deceived himself into thinking he wouldn’t be attending that dinner so easily, and now…

“Go then, father, go where you are most needed. Stay as long as it takes. God bless you.”

Now he had no choice. He left the Church, jumped the fence into the woods, changed into his servant clothes without thinking. He was nervous, a little terrified; what awaited him tonight? He wasn’t used to social interactions beyond those at church… he would have to lie a lot, and he decided to avoid entering conversations as much as possible.

As he knocked on your door, he could already hear loud voices and laughter coming from the dining hall, he also caught the delicious scent of a home cooked dinner, something buttery and lovely. His mouth watered even more as you opened the door, looking like the sugariest desert, he had to swallow and blink like a blinded man.

You were wrapped in the fanciest satin gown you had. Full arms exposed as a velvety deep crimson short sleeves caressed the curves of your shoulders. Delicate creamy lace covered barely your cleavage, intricate embroideries dancing on your skin, as your chest heaved. Francisco didn’t know where to look, at the soft locks of your hair, at the glow of your skin or at your cherry lips, tainted with wine.

“Vicente!” You gave him the brightest smile, and in a blast of surprised happiness you opened your bare arms and took his broad waist in a short childish embrace that left him astounded. “…Please, come in” you breathed out, now self-aware of your move, as two dazed eyes bore into yours, black, aflame.

He followed you down the hall and his stomach did those strange flips again as you lightly tugged at his hand, guiding him.

“I’m so glad you could make it”

“Thank my master, he was really understanding. I’ve found being honest and upfront with him is the best approach” He grimaced once again at his shameless dishonesty.

The dining hall was already full of patrons, five or six sitting on a round wooden table, and Francisco noticed the wine was already flowing. You introduced everyone, all different kinds of artists, all men. Dinner was served by the small rascal himself, who kept a close eye on him, sitting by his side when he was done. You sat at his other side, all bright smiles as your scent caressed his nostrils every time you moved, always closer to his chair.

A few hours passed, and it wasn’t going as horribly as he had feared. Sometimes he was made uncomfortable by nosy questions and he had to make up lies on the spot. The men were all friends and were too drunk and wrapped up in each other to pay him much attention, he thanked the heavens for that, the last thing he needed was to be recognized by one of the artists present. He had been introduced as a simple model after all, so they didn’t think they had all that much in common. This left him free to steal some glances at you, laugh at your snarky comments here and there, blush when you leaned into him to whisper some in his ear. Was that some kind of flirting? He knew it was. You didn’t try to hide it anymore, the wine helping, you grew bolder by the second, and he kept smiling at you like a fool.

For high heavens, Miguel was poking him with a fork under the table, threatening to press it harder.

He had had it with little children intimidating him! But, to his relief, you went to his rescue, looking sternly at the boy. Miguel could act as an adult and think and help like one, but he was a child after all, it was past his bed time and you couldn’t tolerate any resistance.

With Miguel gone, Francisco lost some of the tension he was bearing and as his shoulders relaxed, he found himself reaching for a glass of wine, mirroring your movement as he brought it to his lips. He wasn’t a drinker, he knew he couldn’t take alcohol, but god if the whole situation didn’t play with his head. Your presence near him alone was mind blowing. He felt as elated as his first day at the seminar, everything so new and exciting. He laughed with you, revealing the crooked teeth you rarely saw, as the candle lights cast orange shades on his face and raven locks.

“Miguel seemed disappointed, don’t you think, Clarissa?”

“A little God of Mischief that dear Miguel, isn’t he” You commented kindly.

With his glass of wine half empty, Francisco laughed even more. You two locked eyes. Your eyes fell to his lips, tainted red, just like yours, and you bit your own, You could kiss him right then, as your mind swam in a sweet wined fog and you were just about to act on your instinct, when one of your guests stormed in the dinning hall again.

Agostino was an Italian painter. You first met him two years ago, while in a voyage to Florence, and you both quickly fell into an easy friendship that evolved quickly to heated sex sessions. He was a good lover, for the time it lasted, then you had to return to Portugal and he stayed in Italy, and that was it, until he wrote you, a month ago, informing you that he was in your city, working in collaboration with another master painter. You took the chance to invite him and other artists, deeming the moment right, forgetting how completely barefaced he could be sometimes.

As soon as Agostino laid eyes on you and Francisco, he knew that something was simmering between the two of you. He wasn’t bothered, you and him were history, but he couldn’t just stay silent where there was obvious entertainment awaiting him.

“Oi! Oi! Oi!” He yelled in a drunk laugh, “come here and see this!“ He shouted at the other men that were in the veranda, noisily drinking and joking. They didn’t waste a second to join him, drunken laughs melting into amused “ho’s!” when they saw you just about to kiss a very embarrassed Francisco.

“Seems like our beloved- very dear artist, Clarissa, gentlemen, hear me out … here has just found her next prey … Clarissa, oh my dear, rail him, wreck him tonight, you have my benediction- in the name of the Father- He stopped, waving his hand, he crossed himself, and Francisco’s face couldn’t get any redder, as the others exploded in uncontrolled hiccups, laughing like madmen and whistling as they yelled too;

“Get him Clarissa!”

“Ye! Just Fuck him”

You weren’t a person that was easy to unsettle, you were never a very shy person when it came to these matters; you would laugh with them and joke with them if it was any other man, but not him. You felt horribly ashamed, for that was extremely over the top embarrassing as you saw your poor “Vicente” almost trying to hide behind a curtain, cheeks on fire, lips on fire, eyes on fire, was it the wine? You still wanted to kiss him, half of you was still ignited with want, but you just decided to put a polite end to the mockery and with a faked amused laugh you waved your hands;

“Gentlemen!” You said in a high authoritative tone “It was such an honor to receive you all here, thank you for the amazing and entertaining moments you shared with me tonight, hope that my company was pleasurable, but as you know well every good thing has an end, I wish to see you very soon, as for now I wish you all a good night” You ushered them to the door. Low grumbles of discontentment and drunken whines echoed in your ears as they stumbled on the stairs, reluctant to leave. Agostino turned halfway and gave you a loud kiss on the cheek

“Good nigh- my dear- deeeer Clarita, and …jus…wreck him, will you? for me?” he insisted, as he fell on you, drunk as he was, and tried to regain his balance but couldn’t. You tried to detangle from him, but you didn’t have to try too hard as you saw two strong hands lift the man off you, and as you looked up, you saw Francisco’s pinched brows looking angrily at the man as he effortlessly supported him. On his feet again, Agostino mumbled apologies and tried as he could to join the others. They all waved before disappearing in the frisky night air.

You let out a deep sigh and closed your eyes.

What did he think of you now? You twisted your fingers as you turned to face him. Your heart sank when you saw him put on his cape, ready to leave too, face closed and lips in a thin line.

“Vicente” you whispered, choked in your shame “I didn’t mean you…” you said soft, very soft. Why were you always so soft with him, reducing his defenses to nothing, dust in the wind?

“I should go now, Clarissa” he sighed, “You need rest, child” he bit the inside of his cheek, the nickname always slipping out, the glass of wine not helping him at all, if anything, it was making the whole thing more difficult. His senses were buzzing, a need coiled in his guts, he was barely containing it, God! No, he was unworthy, he didn’t deserve his mercy now.

“Stay” You whispered, cheeks red, oh so red, he closed his eyes, then looked away. It was late, half of the candles had melted in their candelabrums, porcelain and silver plates feebly glinting in the half-light of the hall, curtains gently swaying with the breeze. And you were standing there, his devil-angel, draped in crimson, waiting for him. He could hear his heartbeats in the anxious silence, and as he stayed mute and waited, you advanced.

“Come, I want to work a little. Please forgive me?” So soft. Why were you so soft?

He was entranced, your hand leading him to the atelier. He kept silent, warmth seeping in him, stronger than his reason, sinking his beliefs, his principles and his faith. Far was the church and the prayers and his brothers, far was his pain and his cousin’s misfortune. Far was God.

There were your hands, gently tugging on his collar, eyes pleading.

“Can I?” So soft.

He breathed out, looking down at you. Everything was confusing. He had undressed in front of you these last few sessions, and now that you wanted to do it for him, he could barely breathe. This was different, it was something else, it was not work. It was something else, barely veiled.

But he nodded his consent. And you in that fancy dress, how could you even work? But the wine… He shouldn’t have… oh your lips… he shouldn’t.

But your hands where already on the linen of his shirt, gently popping the buttons open, breath fanning his collarbones. Slowly, you worked your way down as a frown started to form on your face and your hands stilled. Why? Why were you frowning at him? Why had you stopped, just when he was giving in, just when he wanted you to just do whatever you desired with him tonight, just when he started to hope that indeed, this, this wasn’t work.

“What… Vicente?” your voice was shaking. Why?

“What is this?”

#GARUPE IS JEALOUS #garupe #father garupe #francisco garupe #priest kink #fan fic #father garupe x you #he is adorable #but he is in deep shit #holy jesus what's this #smut is coming #adam driver

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kaedwenistout · 4 years ago

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// @heartfledged sent “💃 for your muse to teach mine how to dance (AV AND CATO)” //

The Griffin had never been a particularly gifted dancer. Grace was not his strong suit, Keldar always told him, but he had other virtues. Being a quick study and a good teacher were such qualities, ones that made him invaluable to the Koviri court in their countless hours of need.

After a particularly strenuous battle with a Garkain, Cato had once again saved several members of the nobility from certain death - and more importantly to them, significant loss of coin. He was to be rewarded handsomely, and with one of the most lavish festivals of the social season on the horizon, he had decided to step back and revel in his accomplishments.

For most of the day, Cato and Avyra had lounged in the grand Ensenada Palace’s pleasure gardens, watching the passersby in their frocks and frippery. Preparations for the masquerade were in full swing, and it seemed the wealthy merchants of the city were keen to break in their new shoes - as was the witcher, in his splendid new dancing robe and soft leather boots.

“It starts with a step. Not too short, not too long. Just so.” Cato straightened his leg, touching the tip of his boot to the painted tiles. He cast a long shadow, soft curls haloed in the golden light of Lan Exeter’s sunset. “And then you follow through, like this.”

He takes Avyra’s hand with as much delicacy and fluidity he can muster, and attempts to demonstrate how she should stand. Their significant difference in height proved difficult to manage, however, and with a disappointed sigh, he stepped back.

“I think we’re going to need a crate. Unless you want me to carry you?”

#I love...... himb #this ask is so old but I finally got to it omg #oc: cato // talk less. smile more #ship: cato x avyra // burn the land and boil the sea ; you can't take the sky from me #// answered asks #heartfledged

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breakingsomething · 5 years ago

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an average night out on the town

basic summary: no one knows the real identity of vigilante "jbm". at least, not until now.

trigger warnings: stabbing, blood, mentions of drugs

tagging @its-ethan-bro cause hey it's your fave side character! here he is, at long last!

it was starting to fucking rain.

of course it was. why wouldn't it? everything else was going wrong in jackie's life. all he needed was a bit of rain to put a damper on his evening.

he considered just going home. he was barely even patrolling anyway; just wandering the city with his MAAS bot on his shoulder, not bothering to keep to the alleys because no one was fucking around. he wasn't even in uniform. he'd given up on that months ago. all he needed was his thick red hoodie, his bag, his goggles, his mask, and his cuffs, along with a few assorted weapons scattered about his person. might as well. as the saying goes, you never know when your brainwashed brother might pop out of the shadows and try to kill you. or something like that.

no one around. jackie stopped under a streetlamp, glancing around the empty streets. nope, not a single soul. that was odd, but really, he wasn't in a state to question it. he was just gonna recharge his bots and go home. he couldn't be fucked dealing with anything else. nothing else mattered. not anymore.

he kept walking. his boots splashed through the rising puddles, soaking the bottoms of his cargo pants and making him shudder with the cold. he hadn't even brought a coat with him, like a goddamn idiot. henrik was going to kill him.

jackie had long ago memorized the locations of each of his bots, having programmed them to stick to dark, secluded areas where he could easily get to them. and there was only so many of them in the city. for instance, jackie could see one glinting in the piping of an alleyway next to a convenience store. he casually made his way over, waiting for the bot to float down and land on his hand. it did so. this bot was smaller than his main one- painted a dark green, a camera with a glowing red light built into the centre, a thick tail trailing behind. jackie's face twitched into a smile as his hand lit up with a magic yellow glow, causing the bot to chirp as its light turned blue. after it was charged, it darted back up to its previous position. jackie shook the light from his hands and kept going.

there were exactly one hundred bots hidden around the city, not including the larger one he kept on him at all times. he didn't technically have to charge each of them individually, but it was good for them to receive extra attention, wasn't it? get a special checkup, make sure they were ok? jackie almost laughed at himself. god, what a load of bullshit.

he just didn't want to go back home.

eventually, ninety nine bots were checked. the last one was also in an alley, this time next to a busier street- there were a few people walking around here, though what they were doing out at two am in the pouring rain was beyond jackie. it didn't matter, anyway. once he'd checked this last bot he could go home and face henrik's worry and disappointment. once he'd checked this last bot.

there was a man lying in the alley.

jackie slowly made his way over to him, his breaths quickening. the man was wheezing, clutching his chest- drunk? hurt? his hood was up so his face was hidden, so jackie couldn't make out his expression. "um, sir?" he croaked, his voice cracking from hours of disuse. he took another step, his boots splashing in the water. "are you alright?"

the man jerked his head round, revealing narrowed green eyes and clenched teeth, but his expression changed upon seeing who he was. "ah, jbm," he murmured. "th'fantastic hero, here to save…" his eyes closed and his arms slipped from his chest, revealing, to jackie's absolute horror, a thin knife wedged between his ribs.

"fuck, fuck," jackie hissed, immediately swinging his bag down and falling to his knees. "shit, lie down, i'll help you."

jackie gently pulled the man down, ignoring his whines of protest as his hood fell and his back came into contact with the puddles of water. he wasn't bleeding a lot, but maybe the bleeding was more internal, that would be harder to see and could kill him in minutes- jackie flapped his hands, only allowing himself a moment of panic before regrouping. he'd dealt with worse than this. he'd dealt with worse. he just hadn't been expecting to deal with it tonight. "i'll call the hospital."

"no!" cried the man, suddenly trying to sit up, clawing at jackie's arm. jackie pushed him back down, fearing he'd quicken the blood loss. "no, no, can't go to- not like this- no hospital, no, no hospital-"

"shit, fuck, ok!" jackie cried, his stress level rising. god, he hadn't wanted to go home before, but he'd rather sit in deafening silence with henrik two rooms away than do this right now. "i'll call my friend, ok? i'm gonna call him, i'll keep pressure on the wound and when my friend gets here he'll help you, ok? he's a doctor, kind of, you'll be ok, it's ok."

the man ignored his ramblings and moaned in pain, still babbling under his breath about hospitals. ok, ok, this was fine. jackie tapped the back of his gauges five times in quick succession and waited for the dinging noise that signified he was starting a call. "curro," he demanded.

there was a moment of pained silence while it just rang, and jackie pressed both hands on the man's chest, listening to his agonized cries. to take his mind off the pain, jackie decided to ask the man questions. "what's your name?" he asked.

the man said nothing, just whimpered and held onto jackie's hands. ok. never mind.

"jb?" came the deep, reassuring voice, and jackie nearly burst into tears.

"curro!" he exclaimed, relieved. "radreaoch ave, the alleyway. there's a guy here, stab wound to the chest, not super deep, and yes, i'm putting pressure on it. knife's still in. how soon can you get here?"

"ten minutes," curro said, and the call ended. simple as that. jackie liked that about curro- he didn't ask questions. unlike a certain other doctor he could mention. actually, jackie doubted henrik would have picked up the phone at all if jackie had called him.

curro drove up ten minutes later, right on time. jackie sobbed the second he threw his car doors open and raced over, his blue jacket bright in the darkness. "c, i don't-" he started, not taking his hands off the man's chest, but curro stopped him.

"we need to get him into the car, take him back to mine. you drive, i deal with him in the backseat. there's no police around as far as i can see, we should be fine." he said all this with such authority that jackie immediately found himself nodding frantically, and then they were lifting the man carefully between them and laying him across the seats, and jackie was driving to the place he always drove to when he was feeling this sense of urgency and panic, and then they were at curro's place again. he lived in a very small area so there were barely any people around, so it was easy to get the guy inside without being noticed; less easy to get him inside without hurting him. it took about five minutes to get him past curro's kitchen and living room to the room under the stairs where he kept all his supplies. five cabinets chock full of anesthetics and pills and bandages, and a padded table where jackie laid the man as curro sped round, gathering stuff into his arms and dumping it onto another small table next to him.

"can i help?" jackie offered, feeling rather useless.

"no, you're ok, this should be fine." curro waved his hand away.

jackie took that as a sign that he should go elsewhere. he left the room and took off his mask and goggles, brushing his hair with his hands. he was sure the man would be fine - curro was a great doctor. he'd only had his license revoked because he'd been possessed one too many times while working - surprisingly unrelated to anti, actually. there had been a ghost had been haunting curro for a couple years, although jackie was yet to see them. still, he trusted curro. trusted him with his life. yes, the man would be fine. he would definitely be fine.

jackie had spent enough time in curro's house to feel comfortable, especially as of late. he shrugged off his heavy red hoodie and sauntered into the kitchen, drinking several glasses of water before sinking into the couch in the living room, exhausted. he considered calling henrik and telling him where he was, but he doubted he'd even noticed he was gone. henrik had been so distant lately, leaving the room whenever jackie came in and avoiding talking to him whenever he could. it kind of hurt, really. it made jackie feel as though he was alone again, back in the days before he knew any of his brothers and anti had no name or face to him, when he was just a human shaped static cloud that tried to kill him every day. he hadn't felt like that in so long.

eventually, curro came out with a tired smile on his face. "he's alright," he said, shaking out his hands. "should be fine in a little while. why couldn't he go to hospital?"

"dunno," jackie said, shifting over to make room on the couch. curro's house was very small, although it was decorated very nicely, especially his kitchen. while curro was a learned doctor, he was also an extremely good cook. "i don't even know the guy, just found him. i'm glad he's ok." he hesitated. "can i… stay the night?"

curro crossed his arms. "why?"

jackie looked away and didn't respond.

curro sighed and leaned back against the couch. "jb, you can't just hide from your brother here."

"why not? he hides from me, too. he didn't come home a few nights ago, said he was staying with a girl named ellie." jackie scoffed. "load of bullshit, i think. like henrik's social enough these days to be getting any action."

curro laughed. "so rude."

"well, it's true. i don't want to talk to him right now anyway. he's been avoiding me. missing chase, i guess, which is fair. i miss marvin." jackie bit his nails anxiously and kept his eyes fixated on the wall.

there was an awkward pause.

"how long have you been wearing your binder?" curro asked as a way of breaking the silence.

"only a couple hours, man." jackie replied truthfully. "don't worry about me. is that guy gonna stay here overnight?"

curro nodded, obviously sensing jackie's need for a subject change. "i would suppose. he'll probably be unconscious til tomorrow, but who knows when he'll wake up." he poked jackie's side. "precisely why you can't stay tonight, unless you're planning to stay in costume all night."

"i could."

"you could not. that stuff looks uncomfortable."

"watch me, dick. just cause you have a low pain tolerance doesn't mean i do."

"yeah, i think your pain tolerance is a bit too high, jb. don't you remember when you sprained your wrist and didn't realize until i x'rayed you?"

"hey, shut up!"

they were so busy bickering and laughing that they didn't hear the door opening and the unsteady footsteps down the hall until -

"hello? i - oh!"

jackie and curro's heads snapped up to see the blonde man standing in the doorway, bandages wrapped around his bare chest. he was staring at jackie with wide eyes, clinging to the doorway to keep himself upright. "holy shit, are you jbm?" he grinned, his words slurring slightly.

jackie yelled and covered his face with his arms, unfortunately a bit too late. curro immediately jumped to his feet. "man, go lie back down, you just got stabbed!" he hollered. "the hell are you doing, walking around - fuck!"

"is that jbm?" the man said loudly as curro pulled him back down the hall. "he's hot, tell him he's hot."

jackie felt his face burning, for multiple reasons. he kept his face covered until the man was gone, then grabbed his mask, goggles, and hoodie, putting them back on despite it being a bit too late. well, maybe the man was so off it on pain meds he wouldn't remember jackie's face the next day? he hoped so. he wrote a quick note for curro and then left. he was sure he'd understand.

it was dark when he got home. dark, and quiet. his heart pounded, as it had the whole way there while he thought about what had just happened. he hoped the guy would be ok. fuck, he couldn't believe he'd allowed himself to be seen like that.

jackie had never intended to become a vigilante. he supposed he had been, once, in the time before his memory loss; his very first memory was standing on top of a building in his first stupid red jumpsuit, right before fighting anti for the first time. but the thing was… he hated confrontation. he hated fighting. he did like saving people, and he did a lot of that, and eventually had come to the realization that he didn't have to always "stop crime," he could help clean up the aftermath. and there always was an aftermath, and he was always there for it. he was a good medic. he hadn't intended to be a vigilante.

but man, did the cops hate him. why, he didn't know, but they did seem to dislike how he did their jobs better than they did. which was partially the reason for the mask and goggles, along with his immense social anxiety. and now, the fact that someone knew who he was - he shivered.

be reasonable, he thought. what's he gonna do, go to the police and say "here, i know what jbm looks like?" no, no, he doesn't know your name. you're fine. as long as he doesn't know your name, you're fine.

henrik was waiting for him.

"jackie," he said as he came into the dark kitchen, lit only by the city light coming through the window. jackie jumped.

"fuck, hen, you scared me," he laughed nervously, trying to make this situation seem normal. maybe henrik wouldn't notice what he was wearing in the darkness. "i didn't, uh, expect you to be up."

well, if he hadn't sounded suspicious before, he did now. both of them knew how bad henrik's insomnia got; there was no reason for jackie not to expect him to be up. henrik raised an eyebrow and stood from his place at the table he'd been sitting at. "that's a lie. where were you?" he walked over and stood in front of him. "drinking again!"

"henrik!" jackie protested, stepping back. "that was one time!"

it wasn't one time. jackie had been going out and getting drunk for weeks, just because it numbed his mind for a little while. but henrik didn't need to know that. "i was charging the bots, ok? that was literally it." it wasn't that far from the truth, really.

"you're covered in blood." henrik said flatly, crossing his arms. jackie's heart skipped.

"it's not mine!" he hurried to say, waving his arms in front of him. "i met a guy, he got stabbed, he was already like - i didn't see who it was -"

henrik suddenly let out a small, bitter laugh, startling jackie. "whatever," he muttered, marching towards the door and leaving the room. "you do you, jackieboy man."

the door didn't slam behind him, and that's what hurt the most.

he hadn't even asked if he needed medical attention. not that he would have said yes even if he did. he did that himself these days, when curro didn't.

they didn't speak the next day. barely spoke the next.

they were missing their brothers. that was understandable. but fuck, if jackie didn't a hug and someone to talk to.

he missed marvin more than he could even put into words.

three days later, he was back out on patrol.

just watching his bots. just keeping a lookout. just walking around, just avoiding henrik, just hating himself and wanting to die. just vibing, really. just the usual. just the usual.

"jbm!"

no fucking way.

he didn't turn. he was too afraid to look. no way the guy had recovered that quickly and somehow found him. no way, no way, no -

"hey! hey, jbm, wait, i want to -"

jackie broke into a run. he was not dealing with this, not tonight, not today, not ever. he raced down the street, legs pumping, the wind rushing past his ears and filling up his hood beneath his goggles.

he turned and darted down an alleyway, not even pausing to catch his breath until he was three streets down and everything was silent. he stopped to lean against an alley wall, sinking to a crouch for a brief second and wheezing. he fumbled in his bag for his inhaler and shook it, taking three puffs of the medicine and trembling slightly. fuck, that was nerve wracking. he was suddenly excited to go home and sit in awkward, grieving silence with henrik.

"hey down there."

a pair of legs in front of him. please, no.

he looked up. the man flashed him a crooked grin, light green eyes glowing like a cats in the streetlight. he was wearing a black tracksuit with red linings, looking like he was just out for a one am run. jackie couldn't breathe. fuck's sake, it was bad enough that this guy already knew what he looked like, did he have to see him on the ground taking his asthma inhaler too?

the man stretched out a hand to help jackie up. he just stared at him before slowing pushing himself up without help. just to prove he was still in charge of this situation. he was not blushing under his mask at this pretty blonde bastard smiling confidently at him, nope, he was not. he was definitely not.

the man tilted his head, his grin ever widening. "wow, you're a hell of a lot shorter than i thought you were."

jackie didn't give him the satisfaction of a response. instead, his eyes darted to the end of the alley, already calculating an escape route that'd get him as far away from this guy as he could.

the man saw him looking. "ah, ah, ah, not today, red," he sing songed, stepping even closer to jackie. he pressed him up right against the wall, leaning an arm against it and blocking jackie's path. "i legit do just want to talk. to say thank you, for saving my life. and apologize, for calling you hot in my delirium. that's not me saying i wouldn't still find you hot in my normal state, by the way. but i'm sorry if i made you uncomfortable."

jackie felt his cheeks burn. "you're making me uncomfortable now," he snapped before he could stop himself.

the man took two quick steps back, raising his hands besides his face. "ah shit, sorry. didn't mean to - ok, yeah, sorry. i get carried away."

jackie stood up straight, crossing his arms henrik style. "tell me this. why couldn't i take you to hospital?"

the man hesitated, both hands still at the sides of his head. "ah, well. the thing is, you're like a hero type guy, and i really don't know if i should be telling you."

a sudden rush of rage and irritation rushed through jackie, and he felt his eyes warning up with burning light. he made a noise that was practically a growl and stepped towards the man until he was pressed against the opposite wall. "fucking tell me, or i will burn your goddamn face off."

the man whistled nervously. "ok, ok, let's not get testy." he exhaled, lowering his hands slightly. "i may or may not have had a few illegal drugs on me - woah, woah, careful!"

jackie grabbed the front of the man's shirt, suddenly furious. "you - you had illegal drugs - and you got stabbed - what did you do, what did you drag me into?"

the man swatted jackie's hands off of him. "nothing, man, seriously!" he protested. "i swear, you'll not be involved at all, i swear! it was just some guy i pissed off, he's a bit of a rival, but it's cool! he doesn't have to know you were ever there, ok? come on, man -"

jackie shoved the man away, disgusted. "you didn't think to fucking - you couldn't have mentioned?"

"well, first of all, if i had, would you have just not saved me?" the man said, and jackie deflated. he was right. "and second, i was very delirious -"

"you were coherent enough to call me hot!"

a smirk crept back onto the man's face. "well, you must be pretty enough that i could see it even after having been stabbed and on painkillers, huh?"

jackie scoffed, heat rising. "fuck you."

the other man laughed, evidently more comfortable now that jackie had backed off. "you're absolutely welcome to if that's what -"

jackie took off before the other man could finish his sentence. he didn't follow him.

what an asshole. what an asshole. what would happen if jackie ended up involved in this - what was it? a fight over drugs or something that was apparently worth attempting to kill a man over? that was the last fucking thing he needed. what a douchebag. what an arrogant, pretty douchebag. no, not pretty. jackie wasn't lowering his standards that far down.

although, when he got home and leaned against the door, catching his breath before he was forced to go inside and face henrik again, he found something in his hoodie pocket. a scrap piece of paper. the man must have slipped it inside when he has him pinned against the wall. the memory made jackie blush and scowl, and he quickly read it.

"dearest jbm. i don't know your name, so i'm gonna call you red. unless your name is jbm, in which case -" the line "what were your parents on and can i get some?" was scribbled out and replaced with simply "what the fuck?" it continued. "unless those are initials or something. i'm still calling you red. anyway, thank you, and i'm sorry. here's my number, in case you should ever need it. very sincerely, aaron."

there was a string of numbers underneath the message.

jackie crumpled up the paper and threw it down angrily. why would he need to call him, for fuck's sake? hadn't he gotten the hint? adrenaline still rushing through his veins from running, jackie unlocked the door and headed inside the house.

it was a moment before he stopped, doubled back, and picked up the piece of paper. wouldn't want to litter. also, maybe he did want to keep the number. just in case he felt like yelling at the guy again once angry criminals inevitably started hunting jackie down for helping out their "rival." just in case.

it was difficult to get to sleep that night.

#jacksepticeye #boop writes #jackieboy man #henrik von schneeplestein #aaron mckenzie #arc two: when one goes down

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comphyjost · 2 years ago

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k but why did the avsmin literally unfollow every single fan acct that was so fake & literally for what

#avs social never disappoints me #<- no you guys for sure fucking did #unpopular opinion but the page literally took a turn for the worse idc argue with a wall #they stopped engaging with fans and it showed #now this? be so serious rn avs

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connorssock · 5 years ago

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Hello, I see your prompts are open: Reed is "surprisingly" very clever/smart regarding things that seem OOC for him (knowing biocomponents, piano symphonies, comp. Sci. Etc). It isn't; he is kamski's brother afterall and went to the same schools and frequented similar circles. His natural temper+being around geniuses skewed what he thinks is average; most people compose orchestral pieces and then get dirty knee-deep in engineering projects right? Yes, Reed accepts he is very very average. :)

Visiting someone’s house for the first time was always daunting but also eyeopening. In theory, everybody knew that Hank had a dog, that Sumo was a St Bernard which was by no means a small breed. But knowing that and actually meeting Sumo were two very different things.

Usually social nights were organised a week in advance, someone would host and the others would bring snacks, games and drinks. It wasn’t usually an event Gavin took part in, he didn’t feel he could offer much to those around him, they all seemed to have such varied interests that he didn’t think he could hope to contribute to. Still, when he heard that Tina was off sick with D&V which she’d caught from her wife, he couldn’t possibly let everyone else go home disappointed.

“If you don’t mind a bit of mess, I’m happy to host tonight,” he offered, ears tinged a little red as he fought off the urge to hide like the socially shy idiot he was.

The excitement that filtered through the group was palpable and Gavin was quietly hopeful he could live up to their expectations of the evening, even if he himself was nothing to write home about.

They traipsed through the door after work, Gavin pointing out where the bathroom was, where to leave shoes, coats etc.

“I’ll grab glasses, ice and bowls,” he said as people began to settle in the living room.

“Need a hand?” Nines asked and Gavin nodded. They disappeared into the kitchen and the rest of the group peered around.

“So, Reed’s house, huh?” Chris laughed a little and craned his neck, peering around. “Not at all what I expected.”

A few people tittered before Hank leaned forward and squinted at the coffee table.

“Is that sheet music?”

Half buried under a tablet, with rings of coffee on it were a few leaves of what looked like hand written music sheets. He pulled them out, wriggling it from where it had been pinned. Passing it to Connor, he watched him scan it with a frown.

“It’s not a piece I recognise,” Connor frowned at it while everybody watched him in fascination. “And it doesn’t seem finished either.”

A few murmurs of surprise went up but any further conversation was cut short by Nines and Gavin returning. As soon as Gavin’s eyes landed on the paper Connor was holding, he flushed bright red.

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he stammered and plucked the sheets from his fingers. “It’s just something silly I was playing around with.”

“You composed that?”

Gavin rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah?”

Nines peered over his shoulder at the music while Chris let out a low whistle.

“Gavin,” Nines’ voice made him jump, “that is a Rococo style piece and you’re telling us you wrote it for fun?”

“No need to make fun of me for it,” crossing his arms over his chest, Gavin looked defensive. “I know it’s not highbrow like Baroque but not everyone can be clever.”

Silence stretched and Gavin coughed. “So, what do you guys write then?”

“Nothing,” Hank shrugged and leaned back in his seat.

“That’s cool, I know not everyone likes music. You like your old cars, don’t you?” Gavin nodded, trying his best to please everyone. “I’ve got an old two stroke Bimota from ‘97 in the garage I’ve been tinkering with, rebuilding it. Want to have a look at that?”

He did his best not to fidget while everyone stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“I know, okay,” he sighed, “I’m used to being the dumb one. The surly idiot who can’t grasp the concepts as quickly, who can’t quite get the difference between machine learning and cognitive analytics and gets pissed off about it all. Lij already made enough fun of me for that.”

Everyone still stared at him and he bit his lips, uncertain why nobody was even moving beyond blinking at him.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gone off like that.”

A hand landed on his shoulder and Nines leaned to murmur in his ear, “I think you may want to repeat that. But in much simpler words.”

He steered Gavin towards the sofa and sat them down, slowly the questions started pouring in and Gavin looked utterly overwhelmed as his story came out. How he’d gone to school with Elijah Kamski, his half-brother. They grew up doing everything together, had the same group of friends who were all bright, talented and gifted. By comparison, Gavin was a bit of a simpleton. He took his time to understand what the others all seemed to intuitively pick up. There was no special area that he excelled at, always feeling like he was dragging to group down. It had landed him with the nickname Av-Gav, short for Average Gavin.

The games were forgotten in favour of chatting, Hank laughing about his time at school when his friends did a ‘science’ experiment to see how a ketchup sachet splatters when jumped on. They’d laid down the sachet on a sheet of paper, Hank jumped on it. The piece of paper stayed pristine while the carpet beyond was a disaster. Everybody laughed in delight at that until Gavin’s head whipped to stare at Nines.

“Your laugh!” he gasped and was scrambling for the half finished music sheet. “It fits perfectly!”

People watched in marvel as he grabbed a pencil and wrote something down frantically, hand moving in time with whatever he heard in his head.

From then on, nobody said anything at work, even when Nines was sat patiently next to Gavin’s desk, some biocomponent or other exposed or on Gavin’s desk, being cleaned or repaired. Once news of his knowledge of android anatomy spread through the precinct, it wasn’t unusual for androids to approach him with requests, including software updates that weren’t sanctioned by CyberLife. Very quickly, Gavin’s work grew in notoriety as the go to third party downloads which could be trusted.

His temper was still volatile, Gavin never stopped grumbling and snapping. But at least people understood him a little more. And if on some days, an engine part or a few bars of music was left on his desk for inspiration, he never said anything but happily hummed the new tunes under his breath as he tinkered away.

#dbh: gavin #dbh: rk900 #dbh: hank #dbh: chris miller #prompt fill #gavin-centric #genius gavin

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selfcallednowhere · 5 years ago

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March 8, 2018, Portland, OR

They opened with "Ana Ng," followed by "Damn Good Times." During the intro of the latter, when the band was already playing but Flans was talking before the vocal kicked in (which he is quite fond of doing, particularly when the song is one of the first few of the night), he said Portland is "the only town that counts." (I knew he was joking but I was still mildly bothered by this as a Seattleite dealing with the Seattle vs. Portland rivalry).

Afterwards, Flans was referring to the people who were around the edge of the room, which was blocked off by a barrier--he said they were in East Berlin. John: "We hope you'll think about what you did." Then he said that Flans hadn't said the thing about this being "the only town that matters" at any of the other shows they've done on this tour, and Flans said it's because a big percentage of the population of Portland is rock critics. Then he said that thing that keeps making me so sad, about how they have a new album and when they say they're going to play a song from it we should pretend to be enthusiastic about it.

After "I Left My Body" (great as always), "Your Racist Friend" (still meh on this song but I do love the trumpet-party-break section with Curt), and "Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal" (causing me to rock way out), John got out his contra-alto clarinet. He said it's "lower than the bass clarinet and at war with the alto clarinet."

They played "All Time What," then Flans asked John what he'd done all day. He said he'd "wandered around and dodged the raindrops--apparently it rains in this town." Flans said he did not go to the record store (there's an Everyday Music very close to the venue that he's been known to frequent when they're in town), which meant he had more money than he otherwise would've.

There was some funny banter after that. Flans said they'd gotten to stay at an actual nice hotel the night before, which was unusual for them. Then John said they were wearing crooked top hats and saying "We're gonna make it some day!" Flans said the hotel looked like "a movie set from the '30s," and they took something off a tray of food that probably cost $40. John said they were going to escape on a luggage cart disguised as luggage, and Flans compared them to Harpo Marx. Then John said that next they'd be running and their feet would make bongo sounds. So silly!

They played "Turn Around," which was SO GOOD, much better than the night before when John hadn't used his accordion due to technical difficulties.

After "Spy" and "The Mesopotamians," Flans explained that they're playing two sets, and the second set was "all hits," but they were hits by other bands. John said they're not even good bands, and Flans said they're "under the thumbs of our management," who are really mean to them.

They played "This Microphone," and then Flans said it's on their new album. He said it just came out on vinyl, and that it's a gatefold sleeve, which you can "clean your Oregon pot on."

Flans introduced "Bills, Bills, Bills" by again explaining how they'd been to the AV Club to cover a song for them. He said they first did "Tubthumping," but they weren't going to be playing that tonight because "if you sing it once you'll be singing it all week." He said he was going to be Kelly, John was going to be Beyonce ("a role he originated on Broadway"), and "the members of the band not with us will be playing the part of Michelle." So then they played it, and as always I was completely enraptured by Flans's full-on diva-ness.

They closed out the first set with "Birdhouse in Your Soul," which is a perfect set closer cos there's so much energy in the room when they play it.

Second set started the usual way, with the "Last Wave" video (which I was really tired of at this point, I never really liked it much in the first place and this was like the millionth time I'd seen it) and then "Older" to kick off Quiet Storm. I've been enjoying it on the contra-alto clarinet so much that it'll be a bit sad to (presumably) go back to it on keyboard when all this is over.

Flans pointed out the balcony was really far back and said it was "a mistake." John said it was the section for nursing mothers, and Flans said they'd combined that with the section for cigar smokers.

Flans introduced "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too" by saying it was "one of the first songs we wrote," and then confessed that they're actually vampires (explains a lot!). John said not to post that on social media, but then said that it actually wouldn't matter because they wouldn't show up.

After they played it, Flans said not enough people were taking pictures with their phones, and he was "distracted by not being distracted."

Next was MY THEME SONG, still intense and special and emotional and wonderful every single time. It makes me sad to realize that this tour may be the only time I'll get to see it, but I'm just grateful to have been able to as many times as I have.

Flans said that the electronic drums have "all the power of EDM and all the musicality of not-EDM." Then he said the last song was from John Henry, and why don't they play more songs from that album? "Because it's not very good." (As someone for whom John Henry holds the elevated status of not only the album containing my all-time favorite song but also is tied for my #1 album overall, you can imagine what my reaction to this comment was.)

They played "How Can I Sing Like a Girl?," and then the rest of the band came back on stage for "Istanbul," including the crazy jam session at the end. Afterwards, John said he needed to catch his breath and he wanted them to talk for a minute before they played the next song, which made him sound like such an old man. Flans asked us how we were enjoying the sprung dance floor, then said maybe they should talk about some prostitution scandal (I'm not sure what he was referring to) or the "useless" tariffs Trump is proposing. John said he's divesting his money from steel and investing it in "Waynecoin. It's a psychedelic cryptocurrency. You feel like you're tripping, and then all your money is gone."

Then they played "Mrs. Bluebeard." At this point I took it as a foregone conclusion that John would screw up the lyrics since he had every other time I'd seen it, and sure enough he did. For the second time at the shows I've been to, he actually acknowledged the fact that he did afterwards. His excuse was that he'd been distracted cos he'd been trying to move the microphone with his lips so he could reach the higher part of his keyboard, but the crew had tightened it too much and it hadn't moved. Flans said that what he likes is when the crew sets up his mic stand so it's too tall for him, cos he's flattered that they think he's "of higher stature" than he really is.

Next came "Particle Man," "Wicked Little Critta," and "New York City." Then Flans said the next song features Dan on acoustic guitar. Dan played a little something, and Flans said it was from Dan's collection of "unreleased b-sides" and was entitled "Ah Fuck It." John said something about it reminding him of the Motel 6 commercials, and Flans went off on a classic hilarious Flans thing with him pretending to be Tom Bodett and saying "we'll leave the bugs out for you." Then he said if you're a rock band who wants to be sued you should just say that Motel 6 has bugs.

They played "Number Three," and then Flans went back to riffing on the Motel 6 thing (in character). He said if you're coming there and you have a dog with bugs/mange you should bring them and let them pee all over the carpet.

They played "When the Lights Come On," Flans introduced the band, and then they closed out the main set with the reliably superfun "Doctor Worm."

The first encore was the same spectacular duo as almost all the other shows on this West Coast trip: "Dead" followed by "Don't Let's Start." The second encore was "Man, It's So Loud in Here" and then "Fingertips."

It was a great set and a great show! A teensy bit disappointing because the setlist was nearly exactly the same as the previous night in Seattle, and the only reason it wasn't exactly the same was that they'd removed a couple of the particularly great songs they'd played, but otherwise no complaints.

After the show, I was hanging around the stage trying to get a setlist. I didn't get one, but I did snag something else really cool: a signed drumhead from Marty! That was a first for me. I think he might've given it to me because I told him I recognized his shirt as being from Out of Print Clothing, one of my absolute favorite shops (the one with the cover of The Metamorphosis that he's been wearing a lot lately), and we chatted about that a bit. Between that and him giving me a setlist a couple of days before, I finally felt like I could accept him as a full real member of the band--I've still been thinking of him as "the new guy" all this time. I feel silly saying that as he's been in the band for going on a decade and a half now, and it has nothing whatsoever to do with Marty's skills as a drummer or kindness as a person, both of which are clearly quite high--I just don't deal with change particularly well.

JL wardrobe report: a black pullover jacket, not too exciting, except for when he pushed up the sleeves for the second half of the show (I always love seeing his arms that way, it's much more exciting than when he's just wearing a t-shirt for reasons I can't really articulate).

#tmbg #show reviews

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hockeylvr59 · 6 years ago

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Not the Only Option part 2 || Tyson Barrie

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: The idea for this chapter and the reveal came from a wonderful anon, so thank you. I really loved the idea but I’m not sure that I did it the justice I wanted to. Let me know whether you love or hate this because I’m not sure how I feel. I’ve rewritten it way more than I normally like to.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2119

Four months, you had been waiting for this moment for four months.

Despite your hopes of conceiving on your first attempt, finding out that you hadn’t really didn’t surprise you. Of course, you were disappointed but this was all a part of the process. Tyson had certainly given it his all and each time the two of you had sex it was better than the last. While you were consciously trying to conceive, sex mainly served as a way for you and Tyson to become closer than ever. Neither one of you wanted to lose sight of just enjoying each other, after all, the more relaxed you were about all of it, the better it would be for your body in order to get pregnant.

Four months later, after a week and a half of planning, you could finally let Tyson in on the secret you were hiding. You’d gotten the assistance of Gabe, the rest of the team, as well as the equipment staff and now it was just a waiting game.

You’d flown to Anaheim to meet up with the team on the road and Gabe had managed to get you a seat on the team plane as they continued onto Dallas so that you could spend some time with Tyson after delivering the news. The boys had crushed the Ducks, moods were already high, and so it was definitely a good night for all of this to go down.

Tyson had no idea you were here as you waited at the exit to the bus after the game. You thought you’d come up with a pretty cute plan and you couldn’t wait to see his reaction. Josty was currently just hanging out in the locker room, with orders to face time you silently so that you could see it firsthand.

As the guys finished showering and dressing in their suits, Gabe called out to make sure that they grabbed their bags from their stalls to help the equipment crew out so that they could get on the road faster. Tyson’s real bag had already been brought to the bus and in its place was your surprise.

Your anxiety was building as you waited and when Josty’s face time request came through you answered it immediately, smiling as you saw your man walking out of the bathroom area of the locker room dressed in his suit so that he could gather his things.

You could see the puzzled look appear on his face as he saw that the bag in his stall was tiny, no bigger than a backpack. There was no way his gear would fit inside and it made you giggle wondering what was going through his head.

“Yo. Where’s my bag?” You heard him whine and immediately a sarcastic ‘right in front of you’ came from somewhere on Josty’s left.

“That’s not my bag.” He declared as he stood, hands on his hips, surveying the room. You hoped that Josty was making it look like he was just scanning social media or something because you didn’t want Tyson to know he was being filmed.

After a moment Gabe approached and rested a hand on Tyson’s shoulder.

“It’s your bag if you don’t believe us open it.” You were certain Tyson believed that this was part of a prank and that he was skeptical, one of the reasons that this idea had seemed like so much fun when you’d come up with it.

As he started to open the bag, your stomach flipped and you gently rested a palm over it, mentally telling the baby growing inside of you to calm down. Thinking about the things you’d placed inside the bag you couldn’t help but smile. You’d gotten the bag which matched the Avs actual gear bags from the equipment staff after Gabe put in the request.

Inside you’d placed baby bottles filled with Tyson’s favorite candies, a few diapers, wipes, and a “Dude you’re gonna be a dad” book. On top of those, the first things visible when the bag was completely unzipped were a baby Barrie jersey, knit skate baby booties, and knit gloves shaped to look like hockey gloves. Layered between all of that, in case the top layer didn’t give it all away, was a framed ultrasound photo with ‘NHL Draft Class 2038?’ written below on the glass.

You knew that Tyson wouldn’t even think anything of seeing the jersey until he actually processed its size and you were thankful when Josty moved a bit so that you could actually catch some of Tyson’s expressions. Gabe was leaning against the locker next to him, and you could see the rest of the guys watching while trying not to make it obvious that they were.

Seconds later, Tyson’s eyes started to water as he took in the baby jersey and knit items. “This is sweet guys but she’s not pregnant yet…” He trailed off and you had to struggle to not laugh at Tyson for thinking that the bag was from his teammates. There was no other reaction for a moment as he folded and set aside the jersey, booties, and gloves.

It was only when he realized that there was more, that you watched him freeze. You watched as he picked up the framed picture, as he took in the words you’d written and his brain processed the grainy 8-week ultrasound picture you’d had done just the day before. Suddenly he was squatting low in front of his stall and you could hear his shaky laugh/sob through the phone.

“Is this real?” He questioned softly, his voice cracking with emotion as he started to full on cry. “Shit I need to call her.” He added, fumbling for his phone. Not wanting to ruin the second part of the surprise right this moment, Gabe reached out to stop him.

“You can call from the bus...we need to get going.” He instructed, but the smile on his face showed just how happy he was for one of his best friends. He’d pulled you into the biggest hug when you’d met him for lunch to plan this and he was genuinely overjoyed for the two of you despite how crazy the whole situation may seem.

You watched as Tyson nodded, carefully placing everything back in the bag before zipping it back up and hiking it over his shoulder. Wiping his tears away he tried to pull himself back together.

“But for real, where’s my actual bag?” He asked, voice still moist with overflowing emotion.

“It’s already on the bus,” Gabe assured him before grabbing his own bag so that the team could finally leave the arena. Quickly, Josty flipped the camera back to face him so he could wink at you before ending the call.

Based on the last glimpse you’d had of the boys, Gabe and Tyson were going to be the last out of the room and so as the rest of the team filed by you to the bus, they bumped your shoulder gently or fist bumped you in acknowledgment, not wanting to say anything in case Tyson would hear them.

As he walked down the hall you could see Tyson fiddling with his phone anxious to call you as soon as he got settled onto the bus. In fact, he was so lost in it he was almost past you without noticing you. Thankfully, once again Gabe saved the day.

“Hey there mama.” He spoke loudly, wrapping an arm around you in a hug while you whispered your thanks to him because you’d never be able to forget seeing Tyson’s reaction. Gabe had made this happen and you definitely owed him. Hearing the word mama made Tyson freeze and he backpedaled two steps before looking up.

“Holy shit.” He murmured upon seeing you and then his arms were wrapped around you tightly as he picked you up off the ground. “What are you doing here?” He added as you pulled him toward the bus once he’d put you down because you’d already delayed them long enough.

“Did you really think I’d do something like this and then not be able to see you for a week?” You asked. “I’m coming with you. Your captain already took care of it, I’m flying with you to Dallas and you have a new roommate assignment for the rest of the trip; I hear they’re a bit high maintenance with the vomiting in the morning though so I hope you can handle it.”

Tyson was clearly excited but at the same time, you could tell that he was overwhelmed by everything. As you climbed onto the bus, you looked to Tyson to point out where to sit.

“You’ve been sick?” He asked, concern on his face as he responded to your comment about vomiting.

“It’s completely normal. Morning sickness is a very real thing but I can handle it.” You assured him.

“How long have you known?” He whispered his free hand gently reaching to brush against your stomach.

“About a week and a half, this all took some time to plan…” You trailed off watching all the emotions flicker through his eyes as he looked at you. “Your teammates were a big help. I wanted to make this special for you because you’ve done so much for me.”

“I...I can’t believe this is real. Finally. And you deserve all of it.” He declared. “You made me cry. Thanks for that.”

“I know.” You teased. “And it’s very real. We’re having a baby.”

“We are.” He agreed, leaning over to kiss you gently before pulling back. “Wait...what do you mean you know?” He inquired. “Are the boys spilling locker room secrets?”

“Tyson really...do you think I’d plan something like this and not want to be able to see your reaction. Josty was face timing me.” Reaching over you laced your fingers with his. “Your reaction was everything I wanted. Everything I needed.” You assured him.

All you wanted was for him to be as happy about this as you were. Because up until now it hadn’t really felt real and maybe it still didn’t for him but with the changes your body was already going through and his reaction tonight it was now all so very real for you that in 7 months you were going to be holding the baby that you had been waiting on for so long.

“This was not how I expected you to tell me you were pregnant…” Tyson murmured just staring at you softly as you snuggled in next to him on the bus. Hopefully, you would be at the airport soon because you could already feel the energy draining out of you.

“Well just saying it wouldn’t be any fun…” You explained. “I had to do something different.”

“I’m not complaining, it was perfect and I love you.” He spoke softly, his lips brushing against your hair. “Tired love?” He breathed seeing you yawn and when you nodded he wrapped an arm around you.

“We’re almost to the airport and you can sleep on the plane.”

“I know.” You assured him.

To and from the plane, Tyson insisted on carrying the single bag you’d brought in addition to his own suitcase and the hockey bag on his shoulder. Though you’d napped on the plane, the minute you entered the hotel room you collapsed onto the bed completely exhausted.

Needless to say, you had a new admiration for Tyson and all players for coping with the travel and crazy schedule because you’d been in three cities in two days and maybe it was because you were pregnant but you were exhausted.

Setting all your things down, Tyson gently tugged your shoes off your feet before gently and carefully helping you to undress, slipping one of his own t-shirts over your head. It wasn’t that you couldn’t do it yourself but Tyson had always been great at taking care of you and this was just further proof to you that he was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with and who was going to be an absolutely amazing father to any children the two of you had, including the one currently inside you.

By the time he crawled into bed with you, you were already half asleep but hearing him whisper goodnight to both you and the baby made you smile and you snuggled back into him as he wrapped his arm around your torso, his hand caressing your belly.

Tomorrow was the first day the two of you would awake knowing that you’re going to be parents. Tomorrow was the start to the rest of your lives together.

#tyson barrie #tyson barrie imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #cavalanche #007

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boogiewrites · 6 years ago

Text

Choking On Sapphires 64

Title & Song: Love Is Blindness

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Word Count: 6400+

Summary: With the rest of their time in Paris spent in a dream, the harsh reality of their lives comes crashing back in as Gen and Alfie return home. The backlash to their coupling begins.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Canon-typical violence. Possessiveness. Fluff. Angst. Alfie and Gen teaming up against someone. Business turns personal. Defending each other.

**Chapter song is Love is Blindness by Jack White.**

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

You wake up in the dim morning light, his head to the side as you murmur and look up at him. The unfocused glow of the sun falling across his face, freckles that are barely visible across his nose and cheeks, the warm light making the red in his hair more prominent. It made him glow like the cinders of a dying fire, reminding you of the burning emotion that lay just beneath the surface.

You rise to turn your upper body to lay on his chest more so you can kiss his jaw. He grumbles and winces, nose twitching as his lips pout, pulling himself out of sleep. You kiss him again, your hand on his cheek, a simple press to his cheek, watching his eyes disappearing under his heavy hooded lids as his brow dips low, shifting before finally opening. A deep grunt rises from his chest.

"Mornin' love." his rumbling voice carries out into the breezy, open room.

"Matin, mon Fie." you coo, a kiss to his chest that makes him happily hum. You peck your way up to his cheek again, his arm moving taught around you, bringing you up against him. "Did we really finally say all those things last night?" you ask with a soft smile.

His brow shifts, narrowed eyes still heavy with sleep look down to you curled up like a kitten against him. "I dunno. Did we?" he smirks and reaches up to stroke your hair.

"You really do love me, Alfie?" you ask for purely selfish reasons, wanting to hear it, to see it on his face again.

"Do you love me?" he asks in rebuttal, a charismatic lazy smile playing across his plush lips.

"I asked you first." you say with a wrinkle of your nose.

He chest shakes with a laugh before it carries out of his mouth, stopping when he presses his lips to your head. "Bloody ridiculous." he chuckles. "Asked me first..." he muses and shakes his head, rubbing his face with his hand. "How could I not with that sort 'a response. Cheeky little girl." he grins and moves to squeeze you with both arms. "'Course I love you, you ridiculous creature." he hums happily as your fingers play in his beard, eyes closing again, his body relaxing under yours.

"I love you too." you whisper, nuzzling into his neck. You let out a content sigh against him, fingers lazily stroking his chest hair, setting the tone for the rest of your time in Paris.

------

Your days in Paris were spent in the most ideal of ways, together. You ate until it forces you back to your place to nap, you spent mornings in the marketplace, picking out ingredients for your meals, flowers for the apartment and browsing the young artists work, buying pieces to join your growing wall of paintings. You spend your nights at shows, taking in the opera and the Moulin Rouge. Which wasn't Alfie's cup of tea. You dance by the edge of the Seine to live music, violins accompanying your slow-moving feet as he dips you down in his arms, your laughter disrupting the kisses you share. You walk home across bridges and stopping to kiss at the peaks of their arches, taking your time to look out at the water, the reflections of the city in the moonlight upon it.

Almost every morning and night you make your declarations of love in some form. Some mornings your hands roam and you keep it simple, bringing each other over the edge sloAwly, staying warm under the covers. Your nights are varied, some fast and desperate, him taking you on top of your piano, in the tub before you make it to bed. Others are slow, some with a constant spinning of affectionate words between the two of you, others in silence and always ending in each other's arms as you fell asleep.

The last night he gives you to earrings he'd bought. You felt disappointed in yourself for not having the foresight to get him something in return. He expresses the symbolism of teardrop stones. He promises not to bring you any more tears, save for those made of precious stones. You put them on, and promptly take everything else off, and proceed to have him tell you all the things he wishes for you both. Everything he promises to do, the things he'll never do and ending with the things he wanted to do to you tonight.

The dreamlike escape had to come to an end, and after the long journey back you both crash in bed together for one more night at your home, the next morning the real world awaited you. You see him off to work like you used to and it felt right to spend your mornings together in such a way. You put his hat on his head before he walked out the door, sharing a kiss under the wide brim with both your hands on his face before you let him go. As you watched his car shrink into nothing you feel the weight of worry grow, as the gravity of reality set in once again.

It doesn’t take you long to get back into the swing of things, it wasn’t as if you’d been gone that long. The deep immersion you’d given yourselves over to had only led you to feel as if it’d been months when it was not even a full week. But the good it had done for you both couldn’t really be measured in any tangible way. A scale wouldn’t reflect the lightness you felt now, it could only be felt.

So as Abeille falls back into place, so does Alfies work. And with it, things started to move forward and you were now looking at the first job you’d be working together as a couple. And wasn’t it suited this job would be a dirty one.

You wait in Alfie's office, leaned against his desk as he oversees the placement of the tables for the false truce meeting that would be going down within the hour. You had all the routes ran, knew who was shooting who and all that was left was to set up was the meal and wait for the Greeks to arrive. You weren’t exactly nervous, but you weren’t unbothered by it either. Shooting the head of a crime family was never something to be taken lightly, even if it was premeditated by that heads son. You were placing a lot of trust in Niko to make sure this ran smoothly and that was what was making you apprehensive.

Alfie’s voice breaks your train of thought as your foot bounces with the crossing of your leg, sat back in his chair. “I ‘ave to say, I thought I was Alfie Solomons but it seems that innit right as a body is surely sittin' in the chair only he sits in, yeah?” He muses, shutting the door behind him as you give him a smirk and rise. “But I gotta say, Alfie, ya lookin' bloody good these days.” He lets out a chuckle as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek first, then the back of your hand. “‘Ello love.” He says in a softer voice. “Punctual as always.” He says in his more usual gruff voice.

“I could’ve been late but you wouldn't have known since you are.” you tease.

“Well, it's work innit?” He says in playful defense. “Someone’s gotta tell these boys what to do. Like they were raised by wolves, none can set a table.” He Shakes his head in disappointment.

“I could’ve overseen that, you know.” You offer, letting him take his rightful place in his chair, leaning on his desk next to him.

“I'll let ya next time, yeah? I ain't got the patience to when fuckin' deals like 'is are afoot.” He says with a vague gesturing of his hand.

“Do you want me to go deal with them now?” You offer.

“No, no, love.” He groans, reaching out and taking your hand to pull you closer. “Here’s where I need ya right now.” He says softly, pulling you into his lap.

“Has he had a rough day already?” You coo, scratching your fingers in his beard.

“Aye.” He nods.

“After this are you free? It’s not our usual night spent together but could we have some tea or something? I’d love a chance to give you a pick me up to get you through the rest of the week.” You speak sweetly, seeing his crows feet grow and shift, the weight of his brow low from worry and work.

“You wanna go to my place after 'is? Have a real meal 'n cozy up?” He replies with closed eyes as your soft fingertips work away at his temples and into his slicked back hair. He hums contently at the loving touch he’d missed this week.

“Sounds wonderful darling.” You kiss his temple first, then lightly on the mouth. He grunts and reaches up to hold your hand as it stroked the hair sticking out of his shirt. You're sharing a series of small affectionate kisses when you’re interrupted.

“They’re arriving.” Ollie announces, a head peeking through the door with an indifferent face to finding you two together. Everyone knew about you now, Alfie's men and anyone else who had their eyes and ears on the gossip of London it seemed. You couldn’t blame them for talking though, it wasn’t exactly a match anyone but the two of you had seen coming. A gangster and a businesswoman. Not a likely pairing with the social circles you ran but no one had anything bad to say. Not to your face anyway. Plenty of nosy questions at the gala you’d attended without him but you didn’t mind providing a thrill to the women who dared ask about being with a gangster. It shocked most, as you seemed so polite and well-bred within the art community but you curtly explained he was nothing but a gentleman to you, and as you saw it his business was just that, his, and you would keep to yours. The answer satisfied most of the gossips as it was just vague enough to make any further questions seem suspicious.

“Right.” Alfie grunts, patting the back of your hand. “Let’s get the evenin’ started shall we then Miss Durand?” He asks, his arm swooping out in an ‘after you’ gesture.

“Certainly Mr. Solomons.” You chuckle and rise.

“Ollie see em in 'n pat 'em down.” He gruffs out and nods for him to get to it.

He begins to walk past you out the door and you grab his wrist, causing him to turn towards you with a raised brow.

“Before we do something dangerous...” you begin, putting his hand behind your back. “I wanted to have a proper goodbye. Traditions are important. Can’t be too careful.” You playfully scold.

“Aren’t you just a soft little thing?” He teases.

“I love you darling.” You say with a single press of your lips to his.

“And I love you.” His voice is soft and sweet, the last of it being as such that you’ll hear tonight. “Rejoice not at thine enemy’s fall...” he begins with a smile.

“But don’t rush to pick him up either.” You finish the proverb and chuckle against his lips.

You leave his office and begin the walk towards the main door. “You are a quick mind, love. You’ll be havin’ that bat mitzvah any day now innit ya?” He says walking down the long dusty lane to greet the men at the other end.

“I have still have plenty left to learn.”

“Quick and brilliant as she knows she is not ever finished learning.” He says, his body language and face turning harder. You transform from his little Chanah to Miss Genevieve Durand. He evolved back into Alfie Solomons from your gentle mon Fie. His shoulders shift with guarded body language. All the traces of love wiped from your presentations as you meet the men with indifferent faces, ready to work.

Customary greetings ensue, a too tight hug from Demitri for either you or Alfies comfort. He had already been eager to off the man but the way he looked at you and touched you in his presence was so disrespectful he felt his fingers twitch to pull the trigger himself.

You stay in the back of the group and let Alfie lead the men into the other wing.

“You and Solomons huh?” Niko says, standing still and refusing to move on with the other men.

“He and I what?” You demand him to not be vague.

“You’re together. I’ve heard about it.”

“Yes, we are.” You give a nod of acknowledgment.

“So you were lying to me then?” his tone accusatory and you did not appreciate it one bit.

“What?” You ask with a tilt of your head and innocence to your voice.

“You said you couldn’t be with anyone when I tried to kiss you. Were you with him the whole time?” He asks flatly, his tone concerning.

“I have never lied to you Niko. We were not together when you accompanied me to those parties. Which I thank you for.” You give him a more friendly nod.

“Why him?” He bluntly asks, his eyes looking over you in a predatory way.

You’re surprised by the brashness of the question. “We are here on business tonight Niko, not pleasure. I’m a lady who doesn’t discuss her personal life. Especially in a setting like this. If you are worried about our being professional I assure you we take nothing as seriously as we do our work.” You say walking forward and trying to catch up to the other men.

“No, I know you do.” He says quietly. “But I thought we had something. Next thing I know I hear you’re with Solomons.” He says gesturing towards the doorway.

“It was not something that was foreseen by either of us. It just... happened.” You say with your lips in a tight line. “It is nothing personal against you. I hope you don’t take it so.” You say with bigger eyes to lure him into your softness.

“Hard not to...” He says with wandering eyes.

He was being so bloody difficult and leaving Alfie without you with the men was making you nervous. “You’re a lovely bloke Niko, but the heart wants what the hearts wants. That’s the saying, right? I wasn’t looking for anyone. That was not a lie. I never mislead you, or I tried my best not to. If I came off as anything but sincere you have my deepest apologies.” You say with your hands clasped and a polite nod.

“You have never lied in business I do not know why that would not translate to your personal life as well.”

“Thank you.” You kindly accept. “Shall we?” You ask motioning toward the doorway.

“I will ask only once... but is there any chance I could steal you away from him?” He comes close and leans in, the nerve of him surprising you but you don’t let it show. “You need a young man who can keep up with you. Someone coming up in the world, not sitting idle on bookies and... bread.” He says through gritted teeth.

You’d like to slap him for the insults on behalf of you and Alfie. But you do not, as it wouldn’t make for a good business relationship move. “I would like to say first and foremost I do not NEED a MAN at all.” You state clearly. “I would appreciate it if during business meetings you kept the conversation to business and not make assumptions about me or my personal life. It’s rude. And no. You may not steal me away as I am not a thing to be won or taken.” You say with more bite.

“God, you are feisty aren’t you?” He gives you a wolfish grin. “Solomons....” He says as he walks past you. “He’s a lucky man.” He lilts and you wrinkle up your nose at the tone.

As you follow him into the room he takes up as much space as he can, moving slowly to his seat. Alfie gives you a concerned glance that you can read in his eyes and you give him a nod and a polite smile to continue.

“Ah, lovely Genevieve!” Demitri says, moving his hand to point towards the seat in front of him. “Sit! Sit here so I may look at you it has been so long.” He says with a seemingly genuine smile. But you know his intentions. “I promise not to touch!” He laughs. “But even a blind man wouldn’t help but look eh?” He laughs loudly. “How are you little Genevieve? Is this man treating you well?”He says gesturing to Alfie who sits next to you.

“Yes, he is.” You say in a short time and a nod. “But I believe we are here to discuss business aren’t we Demitri?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your chin rating in your hand and a playful smile on your face. “I can’t have all my best boys fighting now can I?” You pout and play up to him. “You know it upsets me.”

“We must’ve upset the fairer sex must we? Fragile little flowers... they cannot stand the cruelty of the world bless them!” He speaks loudly, as usual, big lungs enclosed in a large barrel chest push his voice around the room.

“You were kind enough to spare Alfie for me before. And you have my endless thanks for that, you know this.” You nod and delicately touch his hand. “But might we come to something more permanent? Seems two minds as terribly clever as yours can see the benefits of a truce?”

“My sons have shown me these reasons yes.” He nods. ”But I am Afraid Solomons has gone beyond business and insulted me. I feel disrespected and I do not want to do business with someone who would speak to me in such a way.” His tone shifts, darker and playing the victim.

“Would an apology work? Could a peace offering be the first step to moving forward?” You ask sweetly.

“Perhaps.” He nods and his bottom lip pouts out over the salt and pepper stubble in his round face. “What would you like to offer?” He asks.

“A showing of peace as is customary for our people. You have the gift of bread and salt here, the best wine as well. We have a grand meal with a ceremonial sacrificial lamb to be prepared as well should you wish you accept the truce.”

“That is what you offer?” He asks almost literally turning his nose up at it.

“This is customary and symbolic of an agreement made.” You say earnestly. “It is sacred and very serious.” You add softly.

“It's a holy order of things to be done to show thanks. This thanks bein’ to you, from the Jews to the Greeks for not finishin’ the job with offin’ me ‘n and for agreein’ to peace between us. It is usually reserved for holy days but we made an exception as Genevieve here felt it was important to conduct the business before Passover.” Alfie chimes in.

“Ah. I see.” He nods.

“Could we agree to not destroy each other? You and Alfie can discuss your contracts under a new leaf turned. You can both conduct your fair business and nothing is lost.”

“Except a part of me fuckin’ shoulder bone. Thanks for that mate.” Alfie raises an eyebrow at the older man.

“I do not like the way he speaks, Geneveive. He is as disrespectful as ever!” He announces.

You were glad you were planning on killing him because it was clear he had no intentions of accepting. “It is a part of his personality and not personal.” You say with a dismissive shake of your head.

“Why are you with him?” He blatantly asks, Niko smirks and crosses his arms.

You can sense Alfie prickling up next to you. "What sort a fuckin' question is that?" he scoffs.

“I’m afraid that’s rather personal and not what we’re discussing here.” You say sheepishly.

“Answer me honestly and I might agree to this truce.” He declares haughtily.

You tap Alfie's foot to let him know you were ready. You look to Niko and he raises his brows and you mirror the gesture, letting him know these were the final moments. He nods and so do you. His eyes cast downward to the table and beginning to look miles away. You sit back in your chair and take a deep breath.

“Because unlike you, he has always been respectful of me Demitri.” You say with an entirely different, colder tone. The man’s face contorts in confusion. “He never once groped or pinched me like some animal with no manners. He never abused his status in society as a man to hold things over my head.” Your tone turns more biting and your face grows angrier. “He never insulted me, and never alluded to the insinuation I was lesser than in ANY way. He sees how smart I am. How clever and ruthless and manipulative. You only ever saw a little doll playing with boys toys and you laughed, never taking me seriously. But you should have Demitri. You should have and since you cannot play the game by the new rules... we’re kicking you out of the game altogether.” Your tone low and sinister.

“How dare you! I have done nothing but help you! A woman in a man’s game! I entertained your enthusiasm because you are clever and pretty but that mouth of yours! What’s the meaning of this?” his back straightening and his tone deeply offended.

“It’s time to step down, father.” Niko says, not making eye contact and shaking his head.

“Is that what this is about?! I’ll never do it! Over my dead body!”

“That can be arranged.” Alfie snidely says.

It all happens quickly. Demitri reaches into his boot for a gun, but his overgrown gut keeps him from executing the movement smoothly. The man standing behind you is set to shoot him, but as you watch Demitri's second, you see him doing the same. This was not part of the plan. You react quickly and pull the snub nose from your chest and shoot him in the face as his arm starts to whip around toward Alfie. The man behind you shoots quickly after that and its impact sprays you with blood and visceral, it wasn’t pleasant but it was part of the plan.

You stand immediately and point your gun at Niko's face. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” You demand, shouting at him.

“What was what?” He asks with wide eyes.

“Roma was pulling a gun on Alfie! I fucking saw it!” You shake the gun in anger. Then everyone, including Alfie stands and aims at the Greeks that were left. Alfie directly at Niko. They were severely outnumbered and would not be fast enough even if they did have guns.

“He was hesitant to the idea of him stepping down.” He says with broad gesturing hands, his voice too collected for your liking.

“So you were going to let him shoot him?! You conniving sack of shit! You don’t get your way and you think you can just go bloody shooting everyone? Did you think if you killed him you’d get me then? Did you, you blubbering fool?!” You shout and feel Alfie's hand on your back, grounding you. Even in the middle of you screaming threats at a man that had perhaps not actively tried to kill him, but also was all too casual in his acceptance of the fact, he felt protective over you. Letting you know you should consider what comes out of your mouth next.

Niko stands with his brother and the other second, both of which clearly weren’t in on the plan from the looks on their faces. “I didn’t PLAN it, no but I knew it might be possible he tried to retaliate. And you took care of it didn’t you?” He snarls back.

“Get the fuck out.” Alfie says gesturing to the back door with his gun. “Ya pay Ollie the rest of the fuckin' money and ya get the fuck out. Our workin' together is fuckin' over, you understand me?” He asks with that supernatural ability to intimidate. The two others are already at the door paying. Niko walks backward slowly. “You come anywhere near my Genevieve again and I’ll fucking shoot you. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the fucking market in broad daylight. You don’t come near her.”

“Oh, you hear that Gen? You’re HIS now eh? Like some Property?” He tries to counter.

“THAT'S BECAUSE I FUCKING AM HIS!” You boom out before Alfie can respond with something besides a snort. “You wouldn’t know a thing about love though would you? You selfish dog.”

“Would I not Gen? Or perhaps I do and that’s the problem?” He counters before exiting.

”You aren’t capable of it! You have shown that tonight with no doubt! You have no one to blame but yourself for your loneliness now. You miserable, egotistical little prick!” You spit out, lowering your gun.

“As you wish sweetheart.” He says, bowing out of the door.

You hand the gun to the man who shot Demitri without taking your eyes off the doorway, your blood still boiling hot.

“Police are on their way.” He says with a solemn nod to you and Alfie puts his gun back into his trousers.

“Ya alright love?” He asks, holding your face. “What did that fucker say before you came in 'ere?”He asks with narrowed eyes, making your flushed, furious face focus.

You struggle to control the having of your chest. “He asked if he could steal me away from you.” You grit out.

“Fuck me.” He growls, staring at the now empty doorway. “I knew I couldn’t trust that little bastard.” He whispers. “I’m sorry love.” He says sincerely. There’s a bang at the metal doors. “Ya capable of doin' 'is?” He asks with a face that didn't show sweetness but of concern for business.

“Of course I fucking am.” You growl, jerking out of his grasp and he feels a thrill of lust surprise him. You take a deep breath, teeth bared as you let out a blood-curdling scream before collapsing to the ground in tears, hands touching your face and chest in disbelief as Alfie dropped to comfort you.

He gives the nod to the men to open the doors. “We was havin’ a meal together when they just bloody opened fire on us!” He exclaims. “Scared me missus absolutely silly. Poor things in fits! Look at her!” His voice inflecting high and wildly, gesturing to you as you sob and gasp and choke and look at your shaking hands and try to frantically wipe the blood off.

“Get her out of here, no lady should have to see this.” The policeman says as he helps you to your feet, and Alfie walks you back to his office with you stumbling along beside him. You sob and carry on until the doors are closed and he’s led you to the couch.

I will now wonder if anything you say or do again is genuine.” He says in a light-hearted way, placing a washcloth in the basin and wringing it out as he eyeballs you from across the table.

“I told you I could do it.” You say with a less angry face, taking the cloth offered and wiping your face.

“I never doubted ya.” He says, pulling a chair up as he helps pick pieces of brain and skull from your hair. You pick under your nails and he wipes the rest of your face off for you, rubbing at your pulled back hairline to clean you up. “There she is.” He says, resting the cloth back into the now pink water. “Although even covered in blood I admit you’re gorgeous.”

“Maybe even particularly covered in it.” You huffed out a small laugh.

“Now let's trudge through what happened back there, yeah?” He says more seriously. “Clearly somefin' happened before you came into 'at room.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans in to speak quietly.

“Don’t you need to go talk to the police?” You ask, rubbing away at a spot on your dress.

“If they need me they’ll come get me. Best we play it safe while we can, eh? Now stop distractin' me and tell me.” his face wearing a knowing smirk at your attempts to avoid this conversation.

“He asked about us. It was simple really. He asked if you and I were together when he went to those parties with me.” You let out a heavy sigh. “Because he tried to kiss me” you begin.

“Fuckin' knew it” he groans and turns his head away, mouth in a tight line.

“He didn’t get anywhere near close to doing it. And we weren’t speaking so...” you scold him before he gets needlessly territorial.

“Don’t matter to me, love. Any man that tried to come at ya when I’s away is someone I’m gonna have my eye on, yeah?”

“Then add all the single Jewish men in London to that list.” You roll your eyes and slouch.

“Full of ourselves are we?” He asks with an amused expression.

“No, I mean that literally.” You say with pursed lips. “After I was in the paper and began speaking at places I received so many letters inquiring about courtship. The lines they wrote. Oi vey.” You stick out your tongue to show your distaste and sigh.

“Ya serious?” his brows raise with his inquiry.

“Yes! It was a free for all. They all descended with their flowers and their gifts and letters. Some even showed up to the house but I had Claire shoo them away for poor manners.” you shake your head in annoyance to the thought.

“Fuckin ell” he shakes his head. “And you didn’t reply to none of 'em?”

“Absolutely not.” You Shake your head fast. “I didn’t want them did I?” You tilt your head obviously at him.

He gives you a warm smile before tapping your nose. “You are trying to distract me with sweet words and it innit gonna work pet.” he pouts his lips at you.

“All of those men, I had Niko go with me on three occasions to events so I wouldn’t be bombarded like I was at my first because I was alone. The only other man that spoke to me of having me to my face was Cyrus Horne but you know how bloody disgusting that man is.” You wrinkle your nose.

“Horne? What the fuck did he do? Ya never mentioned no Horne before.” His eyes narrow.

“Because he was being entirely gross and I left the conversation when he tried to tell me he’d have me. And of course, he only had lovely things to say about you.” You roll your eyes.

“He’s dangerous love. If he speaks to you again you tell me, yeah? He’s a crafty bastard and I don’t want 'im anywhere near you.”

“Understood. I don’t want him near me either. He gives me a headache and nausea. He’s entirely awful.” your face a clear show of your distaste for the man.

“Entirely.” He says seriously. “Now what of the lad Niko? I need to know where we stand.”

“He told me I didn’t need you that I should be with him, all that sort of shite. I told him I never lied to him... and I did not. I was very clear and said I was not looking to be with anyone. But he seemed to take it personally when I told him. He thought I’d lied about being with you while I went out with him. And not “went out” You know what I mean. But why on earth would I go somewhere with him while with you? Makes no sense.” your voice shoots upward in your irritation.

“Seems the apple don't fall far from the tree in 'at family. Perhaps he’s not as level headed as he appeared.” his voice lower and more thoughtful.

“I’m disappointed in myself for not seeing it. But he behaved himself entirely when we went out. His behavior was very surprising to me tonight.” You enthuse. “I got a little carried away yelling at him but the thought of him trying to shoot you over me just made my blood boil something fierce.” your lips tense and your head shakes quickly.

“You were wild. I saw it in your eyes.” He nods.

“I won’t stand by while someone tries to hurt you darling. I won’t.” You say, taking his hands I to yours.

“And I you love. Believe me. If they’d pulled the gun on you instead we’d be knee deep in dead fuckin' Greeks.” He says with a quirk of his brow.

“So you see why I was so volatile. His words beforehand caught me off guard, but I’ll be damned if I don’t see a bastard twitch and try to draw.”

“I believe the reaction to not be past what was warranted. A bit strong from the get but...” he shrugs. “This is you we’re talking about. Raw heart you are.”

“The only way I know. Either open totally and exposed or closed entirely.”

“Ya okay now? Not goin' to have any spells of residual hysteria?” He asks, rubbing his hand across your cheek.

“The screaming and crying helped get it all out.” You nod. “I feel oddly calm for what happened back there.”

“Good.” He kisses your forehead. “Then might I say you were bloody brilliant out there?” He gives you a soft smile. “Better actin' than what he saw in Paris, that.” He grins.

“I have a flair for the dramatic.” you give a soft smile.

“I bloody know!” He chuckles. "At first I didn't' care that much for it, but then I saw it weren't comin' from a place of demandin' attention like a child. You are just naturally... big." he gestures with his hands. "A lot of heart to contain in such a small body." he says with an affectionate nod.

"It comes in handy in situations like these."

"And we will need it again." he nods. "Seems as though you being off the market has gathered more unwanted attention than I anticipated. I had assumed there would be other's in the life that wouldn't be happy about us."

"I was prepared for it as well," you say quietly. "Or I thought I was. I'll be raising my guard now." you say with a harder expression. "I've had to soften myself to allow the expression and acceptance of love. But I will need to work on separating the two."

"It is an unfortunate reality for us." he says in agreement. "Those that didn't care for me before, they certainly aren't gonna like that I'm with a woman like you." his lips purse and he looks out into the warehouse and sighs.

"A woman like me?"

"You have your money and power and skills. You have a name that can be used to influence and penetrate in places a man like me can't. You have the community on your side, and having a people behind you in a dangerous thing for your enemies. Especially when we share the same heritage, religion. It all forms strong bonds and if things were to happen to you, people would demand answers. You can't so easily be discarded."

"Ruling with love and fear." you say with a slow nod.

"Precisely. You are the love, I am the fear. And with that combination, we are a threat. Outside of the most basic instincts of men of jealousy. Which I will be happy to address alone, believe me." he raises his brows, the possessiveness he feels for you coming over his face. "Any bloke what thinks he can take you from me will be met with retaliation, darling. And it will be fuckin' heavy-handed." his voice dips lower, his nature to be dominant showing.

"We will now have the same shared enemies, Alfie. I will protect myself as well as you. People will try to tear us apart. You know this." you whisper, leaning in close.

"I do, love. I do." he nods solemnly. "It is nothin' I ain't already pondered." he sighs.

"But we are smarter. Stronger than they are together. They only know one way. The way of violence and fear. We have love. We have something more than they do. We have a women's intuition and the thousands of years of our ancestors surviving despite the odds. We have more than greed and lust to fuel us, things deeper than they understand." you speak with such certainty that he smiles and brushes his hand across your cheek. "As long as we have each other we'll never be defeated." you whisper, placing your hand over his on your cheek.

Ollie knocks before he enters, another poke of his head into the room to see you being so surprisingly tender with each other. He was warmed by it, Alfie was much easier to work with when he had you in his life. "The police have left. I'll have the boys clean up the mess then?" he asks.

"Yeah, mate, of course." Alfie nods and turns his face towards him.

"Should I call the car for you?" he inquires.

"Yeah, call it on up. I believe we've had enough for the night." he turns to face you. "'Aven't we love?"

"Certainly." you agree.

Ollie leaves with a polite bow out of the room.

"Let's go home, Genevieve." Alfie sighs out, kissing you softly on the lips.

"We can celebrate by doing the one thing all our enemies can't." you suggest sweetly.

"What's'at?" he asks with an amused purse of his lips.

"Be happy." you say with an almost childlike smile beaming at him.

"Then we shall do exactly that." he nods and stands, holding out his hand to help you up. "And allow me to indulge in workin' out me anger for what unplanned events went down tonight in ways that would make the offender weep." he lets out a dark chuckle, pulling you to his chest.

"Oh yes." you let out a girlish laugh at his flirting, his hand sliding down to cup your bum. "You are welcome to remind me how I am yours." you purr with a cheeky wrinkle of your nose. "And I insist you be heavy-handed." your voice dips low and you share a laugh that ends with a content hum against each other's lips.

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dream-beyond-the-fantasy · 6 years ago

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Teaser #2 for “Is This Love?” (aka The Jimmy Fic)

Okay, loves. Since you asked for or implied that you wanted more, here you go. Now, you are getting pages 2-4, which finishes out Julie and Bobby’s conversation. Sorry, still no Jimmy, or any other character, to be honest. All comments, feedback, and questions are welcome and encouraged. For a refresher on the first page, go here. Or I can leave you with the last line:

Julie sighs, shaking her head. “Yeah, I do,” she solemnly confirms. “Hold on. Why did Johnny give you my number?”

Julie overhears an awkward cough on the other line. “Well, I’ve been recruited to try and convince you to come home for Thanksgiving.”

She takes a sharp breath before letting out a definitive “No.”

“What, why? It’s been months since Johnny has seen you. Your brother misses you and is dying to see you. And he’s not the only one. Becca misses her best friend.”

Julie feels the guilt squeezing at her heart at Bobby’s words. She walks over to the window, staring out at College Ave. “I miss him, too. God, I’d love to see Becca. But I’m still not coming home. I’m going to stay on campus during the holiday break. I don’t want to come home. And I certainly don’t want want to see Sid.”

“I don’t understand why you won’t come home. Johnny told me that you used to talk on the phone once or twice a week since you went to college and then, nothing for the last few weeks. Who says you even have to see or speak to Sid? Johnny wants you stay with him at his place. He’s having a few of us over the day before, nothing big. And he wants you there, too. Or you and Johnny could spend Thanksgiving with my family.”

Julie turns away from the window and slides down the wall into a sitting position. She covers her eyes, trying to will away the tears that threaten to fall. “I don’t want to see him or anyone right now, okay?” She starts to sob.

There is a brief silence on Bobby’s end. “Julie...Jules, are you crying?” he asks. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

Julie sniffles and tries to wipe away the tears, but they just keep falling. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” she insists.

“Jules, nobody who could see or hear you right now would believe that.” He’s right. She can’t even convince herself of the lie. “Something happened and you don’t want your brother to know about it.” Julie’s heart skips a beat and somehow Bobby picks up on it. “That’s it, isn’t it? Did something happen at the university?”

Julie’s sobbing intensifies.

“Julie, what’s going on? What happened? Talk to me, please.”

“Bobby, please, just drop it!” she pleads. “Why can’t you just leave it alone? I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Julie, whatever is going on, it sounds like you need to talk about it. You don’t want to talk to Johnny about it? Fine.” She begins to feel a bit of relief, until Bobby adds, “You don’t have to tell him, yet. But I’m not hanging up this phone until you tell me what happened and until I know that you are okay.”

Julie lets out a shaky breath. “Fine, I’ll tell you,” she grumbles halfheartedly. “I-I-I’m…” she stutters. She stops and takes a few deep breaths to calm her nerves. “I’m, I’m pregnant,” she whimpers.

There is a seemingly never-ending silence. “Bobby...Bobby, are you still there?” asked Julie, tentatively.

“Y-yeah, I’m still here. Pr-preg…y-you’re pregnant?” Bobby chokes out.

“Uh-huh,” Julie confirms, nervously biting her lip. She hears Bobby sigh heavily.

“God, no wonder you’re avoiding going home. And Johnny.” He questions her, “Does, does anyone else know? Am I the first person you’ve told?”

Julie takes a few minutes to respond. “Well, my roommate knows. She figured it out before the thought even occurred to me. Mel made me go to University Health Services and get tested. She stayed with me the entire time and I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her. I was so shocked by the news that I don’t even remember how I got back to our dorm.”

“Oh, Jules...I’m sorry that you’re going through this. Once you found out, what did you do? Are you taking care of yourself?”

Julie pulls her knees to her chest, leaning her chin on them. She bites her lip and exhales, hoping that the guilt she is feeling doesn’t come across so easily in her voice. “If you’re asking if I’m taking prenatal vitamins, then the answer is yes. But...if I’m going to be honest with you, I haven’t made anymore follow-up appointments at the clinic. And um, I’ve been burying myself in schoolwork to avoid meeting with social workers and counselors.”

“Damn it, Julie,” Bobby groans. Julie’s eyes start to well up with tears at the disappointment in his voice. “I get that you are scared. But you have to take care of yourself, no matter what you decide to do about the pregnancy. And you will have to decide. You need to talk to Johnny.”

At the mention of her brother, Julie’s blood runs cold.

“Y-y-you’re not going to tell him are you?” she panics. “Please, you can’t!”

“Hey, hey, Julie, calm down. Johnny won’t hear about this from me,” Bobby soothes her. “If anyone tells him, it should be you. You should also let the father know --”

Bobby abruptly stops speaking. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Shit. D-did anyone hu...were you…” Bobby sighs and starts again, “Julie, I hate to ask, but you need to tell me. Were you raped?”

“O-oh, um, no,” she stuttered, startled by the suggestion.

“You’re sure? You remember having sex? Did you actually agree to it? Was there drinking or drugs involved?”

Julie, embarrassed and uncomfortable with this line of questioning, scrunches down even further on the floor. “Bobby! Please, stop! This is getting personal. There wasn’t any drinking or drugs at all. He wouldn’t do that to me. It was consensual, I promise. Don’t ask me who the father is, please. I can’t say. At least, not yet...and not until after I tell Johnny.”

“So, does this mean that you’re coming home?” he gently presses her.

Julie can hear the hope in his voice. She rolls her eyes. “Yes, I’ll come,” she reassures him, with a bit of exasperation in her voice. “But on one condition -- that it be a surprise for Johnny.”

“Good. He’ll be thrilled to see you. Do you want me to drive to Berkeley and pick you up?”

Julie lets out a little laugh. “Why, are you afraid I’ll change my mind again? But, yeah, I would like that. If you don’t mind, that is. I mean, it’s a five, six hour drive.”

“Jules, it’s fine. For you, I’ll do it,” Bobby assures her.

“Thank you. Hey, I don’t mean to cut this short. But I really should swing by one of the dining commons before it gets any later.”

“Yeah, you should eat something. Something healthy,” he intimates.

“Wow, really? Could you be more obvious? Don’t you have a sister of your own to annoy? ” she laughs, feeling better already.

“Well, someone has to make sure that you’re taking care of yourself and eating right. And since Johnny doesn’t know yet, I guess that falls to me. Becca isn’t in need of any ‘big brother-ing’ at the moment. Actually if I remember correctly, it was either me or your mom that would make you eat healthy foods. Johnny would let you have whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. Look, I’ll call you tomorrow to find out when and where I need to meet you on campus.”

#is this love #jimmy fic #fanfic teaser #julie lawrence #bobby brown #karate kid fanfic #johnny lawrence #jimmy x julie #hope you enjoy it

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 6 years ago

Text

September Song (2/3)

I’m sorry @kitten-wrath that this took so long, but I do hope you like it. @hoodoo12 @xerxezra thanks for brainstorming with me. Also, Ice Cream Rick belongs @porkchop-ao3. References to the flowers can be found here (The Language Of Flowers) and pizza rolls here (Sick Day)

Also, special thanks go to @her-victori for reading a majority of my fics in a short span of time. You Rock! As well to random anons who leave me sweet words in my ask box.

If you haven't read the first part of this fic then here's the link. (Read Part1 Here)

In this fic the reader tries to be more reserved and mature for Rick, but what will he think?

______

Chapter 2: These Precious Days

The mom and pop ice cream parlor which could be found at the edge of town offered over twenty flavors and twice as many topping options. Rick thought you'd prefer this quiet atmosphere over the crowd that would've surrounded Ice Cream Ricks truck in the Citadel; he was right. Though it really was a shame since Ice Cream Rick was actually pretty nice. After ordering, you two sat by the window with the best view of a lonely backroad and a white GMC truck.

“I-I-I like that you went for the rainbow jimmies.” Rick commented as he popped a mini gummy bear into his mouth.

“Hmm? Yeah, I like the texture.”

Which was true, but it wasn't the whole truth. You loved sprinkles on just about any dessert they could be placed on. They were fun, colorful, and your dad's favorite topping. They reminded you of good times. You continued. “And they're a classic. Wouldn't you agree?”

“I-I do. Would you say that y-your favorite flavor?”

Savoring the flavor of your chocolate ice cream, you nodded. “Yeah.”

Smiling softly, he seemed to be ruminating on this information, before storing it away and eating a spoonful of his pistachio ice cream. After a little while, he managed to get a bit of it on the side of his mouth, which made you giggle. And because old habits die hard, you picked up a napkin and wiped his face clean. Under your fingertips, his skin had that masculine roughness that came from constant shaving. Of course, you were familiar with it, but these slight reminders that came about by chance never failed to amaze you.

However, you were quick to pull your hand back because he wasn't a fan of public displays of affection, though it seemed to have the opposite effect, with him reaching out and placing your hand back on his cheek, and leaning into it. “I'm glad y-you were able to come with me today.”

Seeing as the shop owner was in the back room, you relaxed a little. “I am too.”

Rick was always a little funny when he got sentimental, which was why it didn't surprise you too much when his eyes bore through you as he said. “Me encanta estar c-contigo.”

“Rick,” you began, wanting to let this facade go and declare every single word of affection your heart felt inclined to say, but just as soon as you thought you were going to crack, you restrained yourself, and simply said. “your ice cream is going to melt.”

Several beats of silence passed, and he acknowledged what you had said, but he went on. “You - I-I sometimes wish I could carry you in my pocket, and have you look after me all the time, but th-that's silly isn't it? It's not realistic, and that w-would be selfish.”

“If it's you, then I don't think it is. While it wouldn't necessarily be practical to miniaturize me and carry me around, isn't the beauty of a relationship knowing that you're always on someone's mind and that they are out there somewhere caring and thinking about you?”

“Certainly, but what I-I meant to say is that it'd be nice if this was our life. If I could keep y-you and if you and me ugh - all th-the time…we - if we….” he faltered, fixing his eyes on something else in the room.

“You don't mean eating ice cream do you?”

With a sigh, he relinquished the hold he had on your hand, “N-no.” and continued to eat his ice cream; resigned, and slightly embarrassed. You couldn't help but feel a slight disappointment. It's not like he wanted to say the magic words. Right?

________

After ice cream, you two visited the bookstore on the corner of Kinder St and Lavue Ave; which had not only a coffee shop but a toy store connected to it. As soon as one entered into it, you were met with the latest best sellers, books on travel and wellness, as well as souvenirs; it was one of few places that didn't bother you if it was cramped. To your left next to the window were those mint boxes which said Adventure Awaits, and it filled you with gladness as picked one up; thinking of little things you'd put in it after all the mints were gone. For his part, Zeta-7 seemed to know exactly what he was going for, disappearing in the back where all the used books were. Not knowing whether to follow or look around, you just did as you pleased.

Past the Keychain holder, above the box of mini hands, you found a Mister Rogers mug. You loved that wholesome old man who used to teach lessons and play with puppets on PBS; Rick reminded you of him too. On the label, it said that when you added hot water to the mug, Mister Rogers would change from a suit jacket into his cardigan. Seeing as Zeta-7 hadn't returned yet, you decided to buy it and continued to look around until he soon returned with an older book in hand. “I-I-I hope I hadn't kept you waiting long.”

Facing the bookshelf, pulling out books that you were mildly interested in, you answered. “I knew you would show up eventually.”

Noticing the stack of books you had, he asked sweetly. “M-m-mi corazón, do you want me t-to hold those books for you? They look a-a little heavy.”

You weren't sure how long you could keep up this facade of being mature and not melting into a puddle everytime he said things like that, with him being as darling as he was. Nonetheless, you nodded and he lightened the burden on your arms.

“Wow,” he brightened. “I-I didn't know you liked Alexandre Dumas.” And picking out another book, he wondered. “Have y-you ever read this?”

“The Man In the Iron Mask? No,” you admitted sadly. “but when I was in high school I did read about a third of The Count of Monte Cristo. I even have a postcard that my old English teacher sent me from Europe that had a picture of one of the buildings that was used in the movie.”

“That's s-s-so cool. Do - do you enjoy classic literature?”

Wholeheartedly, you replied. “Isn't it the best kind?”

“I-I-I don't know,” he softened. “but I don't know what I'd do without them.”

You thought of his home library then, with its eclectic mixture of languages, colors, and topics, and it made you feel warm in your soul. “If your home library tells me anything, it's that you have a healthy appetite for books.”

He glanced at your lips after you said this, but made no attempt to follow whatever thought which might've come to mind. Instead, you two carried on a lengthy discussion on books, how many were a social commentary of the time period, and how they influenced the world you lived in. For once you didn't have to pretend you knew something you didn't, cause you did know. Quite intimately in fact. And within the small spaces between shelves and bodies, where you'd normally feel claustrophobic, you were safe amongst all the friends you had yet to meet amongst the pages, and with Zeta-7 whose warm words and tall body shielded you from the curious eyes of the cashier.

_______________

A stack of books sat quietly in the back seat of his car. Crickets chirped, and there were random feral cats here and there, but there was only you and him as far as you were concerned. September Song by Willie Nelson played on the car radio as he led you into a natural waltz next to the town lake, and moonlight reflected in his eyes. If you hadn't been so afraid of drowning, maybe you would've preferred to dance on the dock, but like this, it felt right.

Oh, it's a long long while

From May to December

But the days grow short

When you reach September

When the autumn weather

Turns leaves to flame

One hasn't got time

For the waiting game

With your head resting on his chest, he hummed along to the melody. More than once you heard a sniffle but assumed it was just Zeta-7 caught up in the moment again.

Oh the days dwindle down

To a precious few. ..

September, November. ..

And these few precious days

I'll spend with you.

These precious days

I'll spend with you.

You thought every day spent with him was precious, and you had to admit that you weren't sure at the beginning of your relationship if it would've worked out, but you were glad that the both of you took a chance, and had been pleasantly surprised ever since. And after all this time, now that it was the fall again, you wondered what the next year and the year after that would be like; the possibilities are endless. However, your train of thought was broken when Zeta-7 stopped dancing and stood there; covering his face, wanting to disappear.

“Rick?”

“I'm - I'm sorry, but I-I-I-I can't do this.”

“Can't do what?”

“I-I-I can't pretend that everything's o-okay. Something's th-the matter isn't it?”

“No there isn't.” you denied.

“Then why are y-y-you so quiet? Are w-we breaking up? Are you - are you leaving me?”

You literally wanted to smack yourself for being such an idiot. “No! Why would you think that?”

Using his phone, he paused the music and passed a hand through his hair in an attempt to calm himself. “Y-y-you haven't been yourself all evening. I thought for a moment that maybe th-things were alright back in the bookstore, but you - I know y-you were holding back. I know how much you love books, and writing is y-y-y-your passion, but you were hesitant in sharing your opinions on either subject. M-mi corazón,” he pleaded, the lines about his forehead and mouth deepening. “please b-be honest with me. Is this it?”

“No, it's not.”

Your plan, which you thought has been working went horribly wrong. So much for trying to act like an adult for once. Man, you only wanted to entice him, which you somewhat succeeded, but because of your stupid games, you'd led him to believe that you were unsatisfied with your relationship. If anything, you were unsatisfied with how you handled this. “Believe me Ricky, you haven't done anything wrong. In fact,” you sighed, your chest aching from the bloom of anxiety. “you've only been sweet and charming. But I….oh, I was only trying to impress you.”

“Huh? Wh-what?”

“Exactly. Whatever I thought I'd accomplish, it…..I only managed to mess it up. Again. You probably wouldn't get it,” Or maybe he would, but you weren't feeling like yourself. “but sometimes I feel like all you did was pull me out of my little bubble so I could wreak havoc. I'm not any different from hundreds of other versions of me, am I? Cause, if I'm like them, then how did I end up with you? How did I get so lucky to be with someone so wonderful? I hope they are happy because I am with you.”

With a hand pressed over his heart, a single tear made its way down his cheek. “M-me too. I'm so happy with you.”

“Somehow, despite all my inadequacies, you want me. I mean, is it stupid to believe that I just wanted to be different from all those other copies? That I just wanted you to think I was mature?”

Zeta-7 looked at you with a wistful hope in his eyes.“No, it's - it's not stupid. You - you did that f-for me?”

“Who else dear honey man of mine? Maybe it can't be helped and I'll just be what I am,” you confessed. “but for a moment I wanted to be different. So I gave myself the look and didn't overreact. And most of all, kept my mouth shut so you wouldn't get bored of my rambling. I know I talk too much.”

“N-no, that's not - have I led you t-to believe you weren't good enough?”

“Not on purpose, but I can't help but feel that way sometimes. We both know I'm not that special. I mean, the only impressive thing I've ever done is eat 37 pizza rolls, and not kill the flowers you gave me. I'm so sorry,” you cried, “I'm sorry you got stuck with an idiot.”

He pulled you in for a tight embrace, smoothing out your hair. “D-don't ever say that.” he cooed. “You're - you're clever, lovely, and always give me something t-t-to smile about.”

“Anyone can do that.”

Pulling back a little, he gave your shoulder a squeeze and softened. “N-no, not at all. Y-you give away dreams, smiles, and kindness. You're reliable, and I-I can trust you. And there is no one in the universe th-that could compare t-to you when it comes to being the perfect woman. If anything, I'm th-the defect here.”

“No, you're perfect Ricky.”

Placing a lock of hair behind your ear, he continued. “I'm glad y-you think so, but this isn't a-about me. You - you dressed up today, in a-a elegant dress that I'd n-never seen before,” and pressing a kiss behind your ear, he whispered with a little gleam of pride in his eyes.. “wearing the perfume I-I-I made you. Smelling like a-a dream.”

Again, how anyone considered this charmer a doofus you'd never know. “I had been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Everyday with you is - is special.”

“Oh Rick. That's…thank you.”

Pointing at your feet, “And I noticed that you're closer t-t-to my height today, but your feet must be hurting by now. Would y-you like to take them off?”

Oh, your feet were screaming. And now that you weren't pretending, you slipped out of your shoes which made you lose about four inches. Picking up your shoes and shoes and dusting them off, he continued. “That must feel better. I-I-I had to wear heels for a case once. It ugh - it's not practical when y-y-you have to run.”

“Right? I don't see how other women do it, cause I can't. I'm not even sure why I own them. I should just burn those things.”

You'd say it was half relief, half joy that made him laugh wholeheartedly at this, and you didn't see how it could be so funny. You poked him and pouted, and he delighted in this. “See?” he chuckled, looking at you in that funny way he did from time to time.

“See what?”

“This. This is th-the girl I fell in love with,” he stated matter of factly. “the one who likes t-to be comfortable, speaks her mind and prefers those jeans with th-the rip on the side. Not to mention those graphic t-shirts. Or cute pj's.”

Your breath caught a little at this confession. How could the smartest man in the universe adore an impertinent person like you? Maybe the same way you could love the smartest man; you just do. In your girlish voice, you said. “I only wanted you to be proud of me.”

Holding you a fraction tighter, he pressed a light kiss to your temple and chuckled sweetly. “Y-you already do princess. Today y-you made an effort for me, and that's impressive, but honestly, I want you t-t-to be comfortable and dress up how y-you like. You as yourself is what impresses me, because you have s-s-so much spirit, and I - that's what makes y-you gorgeous.”

This time you didn't even try to hide your blush.

“Oh Rick, hearing you say that really does make me feel silly. Why did I do this to myself? What was I thinking?”

“I believe y-you're still trying to figure it all out like the rest of us, and I can't get mad at you for th-that because you're wonderfully human. You had good intentions, and th-that's what counts.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“I al-already have.”

TBC

#doofus rick #doofus rick x reader #rick sanchez x reader #j19z7 #rick j19z7 #rnm fanfic #my writing #my works

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