#breakaway glass

[justanancientfangirl]

I need to buy breakaway glass. So I can give into the urge to BITE

[doctorwhoisadhd]

theres just so many interesting things you could do if you staged chimes of midnight tbh....

[rainybookshop]

NHL network you canNOT just post a stat like "teams are 206-4 when leading a series 3-0" like I can't think about the absolutely bonkers narrative of the Oilers this season without- OF FUCKING COURSE THEY SCORED AS I WAS WRITING THIS

[ringingbell1978]

The Island of Dr Moreau (1977)

[bluepines]

I want everyone to know when Bunting got his break away my first thought was "Dumo breakaway???" then I laughed and then I got sad

[boykisser4]

The Breakaway

pairing: Naoya Zenin x male reader

warnings: toxic & abusive relationship, things get physical, no nsfw

Naoya Zenin sat at the counter of his favorite coffee shop, the warm glow of the pendant lights reflecting off his glasses. He stared at the steaming cup of black coffee, his thoughts swirling like the milk in a latte art design. The scent of freshly ground beans filled the air, a comforting aroma that was a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. His thumb traced the edge of the worn book in front of him, a habit when he was deep in thought. The barista called out the next order with a cheerful tone that grated on his nerves, pulling him out of his introspection.

The door chimed as the m/n entered, the cool evening breeze bringing a hint of rain with it. He scanned the room, his eyes finally landing on Naoya. A flicker of something unreadable crossed Naoya's face before he forced a smile, beckoning him over. As m/n approached, Naoya took in his damp hair, the way his sweatshirt clung to his frame, and the faint scent of rain on his skin. He felt a pang of guilt, knowing that their relationship had been strained for months. m/n slid onto the stool, setting down his own book. They used to share a passion for reading, but lately, it felt like the only thing they had in common was the silence that stretched between them.

Naoya took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste doing little to warm his soul. "You picked a good night to come out," he said, trying to keep his voice light. m/n nodded, his eyes flitting to the book Naoya had been staring at. "What's new?" The question hung in the air, a loaded invitation to bridge the gap that had grown between them.

m/n hesitated, then slid his own book across the counter. "Just started this one. It's supposed to be a gripping thriller." Naoya recognized the title, a bestseller he had read last year. He nodded, searching for something to say that didn't involve the heavy weight of their reality. "I remember the plot twist at the end," he said, smiling faintly. "It's a real page-turner."

The silence grew heavier, each tick of the clock behind the counter echoing in the space between them. Naoya's stomach clenched as he considered the state of their relationship. It had started off with late-night study sessions and stolen kisses in quiet corners, evolving into something beautiful and full of promise. But somewhere along the line, it had turned toxic. Jealousy and accusations had seeped in, corroding the foundation they had built.

"Look, I know things have been... rough," Naoya began, his voice low and earnest. He reached out, placing his hand over the m/n's. It was cold from the rain outside, but the gesture was met with a tense stillness. "I just want to fix this, okay?"

m/n's eyes remained on their joined hands, his own grip tightening around his coffee cup. "I don't know if it's that simple, Naoya," he said, his voice laced with a weariness that hadn't been there before.

Naoya felt the temperature in the room drop as m/n's words settled over them. He withdrew his hand, the sudden absence of contact leaving his skin feeling cold. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice strained.

m/n sighed, his gaze finally meeting Naoya's. "I mean that maybe we can't just fix this with a conversation over coffee," he said, his voice steady but laced with sadness. "It's been going on for so long, and I've tried to ignore it, to believe it would get better, but..." He trailed off, taking a shaky breath.

Naoya's expression hardened, his grip on his mug tightening until his knuckles turned white. "What are you saying?" he demanded, his voice raising just a notch.

m/n's eyes widened at the sudden shift in Naoya's demeanor. He took a step back, the stool scraping against the tiles. "I'm saying we need a break," he clarified, his voice trembling slightly. "Some time apart to figure things out."

Naoya's jaw clenched as he processed the words. "A break?" he echoed, his voice a dangerous whisper. He stood up so abruptly that his chair toppled over, the clatter startling the nearby patrons. "Is that what you think this is? Just something to put on pause?"

m/n's eyes darted around the room, seeking an escape from the confrontation that was escalating rapidly. He took another step back, his hand hovering near his book as if it could serve as a shield. "Naoya, please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a murmur.

But Naoya didn't hear the desperation in his tone. The anger had taken over, turning his eyes a stormy shade of blue. He took a step closer, his fists clenching at his sides. "You think you can just walk away from this?" he spat, his voice a mix of fury and disbelief. "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

m/n heart raced, his eyes searching for any sign of the person he had once loved in the man before him. "Naoya, please," he said again, his voice shaking. "This isn't good for either of us. We both need some time to think."

But Naoya's anger was a living thing, coiling around them like smoke from an unseen fire. "Think about what?" he snarled, stepping closer still. "Think about how you can't trust me? How you think I'd ever hurt you?" His hand shot out, grabbing the reader's wrist, his grip painfully tight.

m/n flinched, trying to pull away, but Naoya's hold was like a vice. "Naoya, please," he gasped, his eyes wide with fear. "You are hurting me."

Naoya's eyes narrowed, his grip tightening. "You think I don't know what you've been thinking?" he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You've been pulling away for weeks. Do you have someone else?"

m/n's heart hammered in his chest, his mind racing to find the right words. "It's not about that," he said, his voice shaking. "It's about us, Naoya. We're not good for each other like this."

Naoya's grip on m/n's wrist tightened, his eyes flashing with rage. "Don't lie to me," he spat, leaning in so close that their noses almost touched. "You've been seeing someone else, haven't you?"

m/n's breath hitched in his throat, his eyes wide with shock and fear. He tried to shake his head, but Naoya's grip didn't allow it. "No, Naoya," he managed to choke out. "I haven't. Please, you're hurting me."

But Naoya was beyond the point of reason. His eyes searched m/n's face, desperation and anger melding into one volatile cocktail. Without warning, he yanked m/n closer, their bodies colliding. m/n stumbled, his mug of coffee slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. The sound of porcelain breaking seemed to echo through the room, the scalding liquid splattering across their shoes. The other patrons looked over, a mix of curiosity and alarm on their faces, but no one dared to interfere.

Naoya's hand was around m/n's throat now, his thumb pressing into the delicate skin. m/n's eyes watered as he struggled to breathe, his hands clawing at Naoya's wrist. "Tell me the truth," Nate growled, spittle flying from his lips. "Who is it?"

m/n's eyes searched the room, desperate for help, but the coffee shop patrons had retreated to their corners, their eyes averted from the scene unfolding before them. His vision began to blur, and he knew he had to act fast. He brought his knee up sharply, connecting with Naoya's groin. Naoya's grip loosened with a pained grunt, and m/n took the opportunity to wrench himself free, stumbling backward.

Naoya doubled over, clutching his crotch with a snarl of pain. "You fucking...," he managed, his voice strained. m/n took a step back, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath. "You think you can just leave me?" Naoya's voice was a mix of agony and rage as he straightened, his eyes never leaving the reader's.

m/n own anger began to boil over. "You're the one who's making this impossible," he shouted back, his voice echoing in the suddenly quiet coffee shop. "You're the one who can't control yourself. Who can't handle the truth!"

Naoya's hand shot out again, grabbing m/n's shirt and yanking him closer. m/n's eyes blazed with a mix of fear and determination as he shoved Naoya away with all his strength. Naoya staggered back, knocking over a nearby chair with a clatter. The barista called out a warning, but the two men were lost in their own tumultuous world.

"Don't touch me," m/n spat, his voice shaking. "You're not going to bully me into staying with you."

Naoya's face contorted into an ugly sneer, the rage in his eyes burning hotter than the coffee that now stained the floor. He took a step forward, his hands balled into fists. "You think you can just walk away?" he roared, his voice echoing through the coffee shop. The other patrons had gone silent, their conversations stilled by the explosive tension that hung in the air.

m/n took a step back, his own anger rising to meet Nate's. "I've had enough of this," he said, his voice firm. "I don't want to fix things if it means living in fear of your temper."

Naoya's eyes narrowed, his hand flexing into a fist. "You think you're so above this?" he sneered. "You think you can just leave me like I'm some sort of disposable toy?"

m/n felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he took another step back. "This isn't about pride, Naoya," he said, his voice shaking. "It's about respect. And right now, you're not showing any."

Naoya's face twisted into something almost feral, and m/n could see the muscles in his arms tensing. "You want respect?" he yelled, his fist slamming down onto the counter, making the coffee cups jump. "You'll get it when you admit you're mine!"

m/n's eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. This wasn't the Naoya he had fallen for, the sweet, gentle soul who had whispered poetry into his ear during those early morning study sessions. This was a monster, a shadow of the person he used to know. "Let go of me," he said, his voice low and firm.

[amethystfairy1]

"Everyone drink a glass of water and go to bed. Couch. Hammock. Whatever." -Doc, probably.

Breakaway Love chapter 3 is up! Please check it out!

[alchemistc]

okay….. can I ask about Buck in the hockey au?

Buck was a middling college player who got drafted in the third round after his team missed the Frozen Four, and he kind of labored in obscurity for a few years in the AHL before his current team picked him up trying to unload cap space to buy out a problem players contract.

Buck plays four regular season games with his new team before he gets sent back down. The company line is that he's just Not Ready but in actuality he's been hooking up with girls in visitor facilities and once in the team bus. His coach (the coach is Bobby I'm just still working out the details) tells him he sees a lot of potential in Buck, and he could make it if he could just find a way to get his head on straight.

Buck gets his head on straight. He kills it with the affiliate team, runs a point streak through twenty-three games as a defenseman, quarterbacks the power play to the point that fans of the NHL team are up in arms that he hasn't been called up.

They're playing with numbers, trying to give Buck as much ice time as possible while they lose the weight of one of their underperforming D-Men - the usual contract juggling. Then they call him up. He has a few good games, scores a few goals, has a wicked wrister from the blue line. He also scores an own goal against Chim his fourth game up and keeps taking stupid penalties. It's 2-4 penalty minutes a game for too many men or delay of game because he keeps getting too overexcited and slinging the puck over the glass instead of along the boards.

Abby works for TNT, and Buck catches her eye while she's between the pipes for a national broadcast game. She's got enough pull to get his number and they start up a phone based relationship.

Buck's team makes playoffs his first year, and gets slaughtered in the first round. Abby's mom dies and she takes a break from sports casting and Buck, not that she really lets him know that.

During the off-season Buck's team trades for a defenseman who's been in the KHL for a few years. His name is Eddie Diaz.

Buck hates him for about half a day. He feels like he's being replaced. He's worked so fucking hard to make it and now there's this guy who just gets a spot right away?

(They're best buds by the end of the week, and by the time the regular season starts they're playing 25 minutes a night as the top D-Pair)

Buck's career comes to a screeching halt in the second round of the playoffs that year when he gets tripped on a breakaway and slides awkwardly into the boards.

(No one makes the connection at the time, but the player who trips him is the same one one of their old wingers, Deluca, saved from the bottom of a dogpile years ago when a skate got way too close to his neck)

The injury isn't an easy one. There's no quick recovery time. Buck is just sort of stuck in limbo for a while. And then when he's cleared to return they find out there were complications. Coach Bobby benches Buck.

And Buck has been nothing but hockey for most of his life. It was the only way to get his parents to pay attention to him. The only outlet for all his anger. And he's good at it. He's the best. He could be the best, anyway.

Buck takes to twitter during his 'recovery' time. At first he's just posting stupid shit, but then people start paying attention to him. The PR dept does Not Like the way Buck calls out bullshit and trolls on Twitter. The GM gets involved, things blow up. Buck is reluctantly allowed back at practices and quickly jumps into game readiness.

And it's clear he's come back better.

The team toils for years in first and second round exits, and some of their stars are coming close to contract years, and they just can't break out. Buck places third for the Norris a few times, and he and Eddie are often talked about as one of the best Defensive pairings in the league, but their team is fast and light and they get beat to shit every time playoffs roll around. Eddie's feisty, he'll talk shit until the opposing bench is FUMING, he'll get scrappy along the boards, he'll duke it out when necessary, but he usually has to keep a lid on that because he can't let Buck down by getting injured.

At the end of year six for Buck, after a heartbreaking out, Buck's end of year presser goes viral when he talks about how he's been in the league for six years and hasn't won shit.

The fanbase panics because he's in his second to last contract year. If they can't contend, they're convinced he's gonna want out before the All-Star break. (None of them are aware that Buck would rather re-break his leg than leave this team he considers family, and his agent would like to keep it that way)

The team has a banner fucking year. They've got record game winning streaks and record point streaks and their aging goalie has never played better. He has four shutouts in the first half of the season. And Buck was never planning to leave so no one really broaches the contract thing. They'll figure it out in the off-season. Buck's got games to win.

With the trade deadline looming and Buck's team looking like a shoe-in for top of their conference, the front office makes a... strange move early in. They trade for Tommy Kinard. He's a bruiser, real old school type, skates like he's got bricks attached to his ankles but will knock a motherfucker down for looking sideways at his guys. He hasn't announced he's retiring at the end of the season, but he's planning to hang it up either way.

The team is hesitant about that, at first, once they know. He and Chim played together for a few years, and Chim welcomes him to the team by filling his car with golf balls. Pointed, maybe, but Tommy laughs it off, and retaliates, and the team starts to grow fond of him. BUCK starts to grow fond of him. Buck has a Cup run to worry about but Tommy is there, playing five minutes a night and knocking dudes on their ass that would normally be going for Buck and Eddie so consistently that Buck and Eddie feel a little invincible. People are second guessing whether or not they want to risk incurring the wrath of Kinard for a meaningless late March game.

And that is where I leave this because I'm actually seriously considering writing this fic now and that's about where I'd start it.

[xfilesinamajor]

Screaming "WHAT IF GLENN WAS THE FUCKING TARGET?!?" to myself through the entire episode.

He's the only one who took a direct shot in that attack. If not for the plate in his head, he'd be dead. If someone takes a direct shot to the head, that doesn't say bad aim to me, and the three Olivers weren't really identical.

As a stunt double, he could plausibly have known a film professor. In fact, Dudenoff having a false shoulder could mean he worked as a stunt double at one point in his life. (Yes, I know joint replacements aren't uncommon after a certain age, but it seems like quite the coincidence.)

Something weird was going on at that funeral in Concussions. Someone put a real bottle in with all those breakaways, and a full glass bottle to the skull of a man in his 70s could have been fatal. Maybe it was just an accident, but I keep thinking about it.

But mostly that first thing. So what I really want to know is--what does Glenn know that would make him a target?

[incorrectvtuberquotes]

Shiori: Rules are made to be broken!

Elizabeth: Rules are made to be followed. Nothing's made to be broken.

Nerissa: Glow sticks.

Fuwawa: Pinatas.

Mococo: Karate boards.

Bijou: The tape on finish lines.

Raora: Breakaway glass.

Cecilia: Toblerones.

Gigi: Rules.

[wilderbea]

Honestly the most expensive thing about hrt is all these breakaway glass flasks and the green smoke machine for my cackling silhouette to be projected onto

[ihaveforgortoomany]

Puppykeeper AU!

(Based on the ask by @little-bunny-with-purple-stinger initally answered by Comrade @the-blossica-fan )

Summary: Sonetto joins Vertin and the others in the Breakaway Incident but this time it's Sonetto the sole survivor - becoming the TimeKeeper!

Yes I thought about this AU, and Im bored waiting for 2.1 and 2.4 respectively so indulge in my suffering in grabbing the ball and chucking it into the next era.

Major Differences to Canon:

Her relationships to early game cast, espeically Regulus and Druvis is much rougher in canon - the story will have a focus on Sonetto attempting to build these connections over time. Team TK in this AU have alot of growing pains.

Sonetto even as TK is more sheltered, a "looking through the glass" perspective to the outside world in comparison to Vertin, she takes much longer to adapt to operating outside of direct orders of the Foundation.

Vertin being essentially dead in this AU, she gets to haunt the narrative this time :) (mostly)

Overhaul to Books 1/2 as seen in the previous post (look for the au tag idk to link in mobile):

Extended time in 1920s Chicago - from 33 hours to a week.

Schneider is more prominent in this AU, this is friends to enemies to reluctant partners to lover yuri! Yes Schnieder also survives the 1920s Storm in this AU. She will occupy Vertin's role as a spark of rebellion and insight for Sonetto into Italian culture!

Other differences:

As all ages are the same Matilda is not Sonetto's Chief Assistant: shes currently still in SPDM until 2.0 event story.

Main story differences in broad very broad ideas: @the-blossica-fan comrade feel free if u want to add anything:

Book 3/4

😅 Complete overhaul again, Schnieder barely survives the Storm and is rendered into a coma, immediately is taken by the Foundation and monitored (so again taking Vertin's place). Sonetto and the early TK Team is still separated and pressured into joining the Foundation. Sonetto does follow her canon arc in the story but with the added eventual goal to create a Bill that gives the people that she saves more freedom - cue Reformation Bill as part of the Chicago Branch trial. Over the course of the story Sonetto slowly learns why Vertin goes to such lengths to escape SPDM, the Bill as the first step.

(Btw Book 3 is not only flashbacks of the Breakaway but also more as well from Schneider as Mesmer is put in charge of her, as the request of Sonetto)

Book 5

💀 Aperion is my achilles heel in every sense, so heres the general idea of what I will alter:

Events more or more play out the same, differences being Schnieder's presence causing a strain in her and Sonetto's very rocky relationship so far, and greater emphasis and involvement of Sophia. Yes Sonetto will speak out in the Hall by attacking Arcana, yes she will be put on trial for her transgessions.

But how does she win the arguement? Well. She doesn't.

But someone does intervene to aid her, team TK wasn't the only visitors of the island at that point: a duo had appeared shortly before very did. One of them is claimed by 37 as a 0, their interference saves Sonetto's life.

Ok major divergence from Canon:

The presence of Urd and "Skuld":

(Very clunky naming system just playing with the Three Norns from Norse Mythology, Urd being fate and Skuld being present. Also because Verdandi is too much on the nose)

Turns out Vertin is very not dead! In the Breakaway Vertin does still have her immunity, Sonetto surviving may have been because of her (aka this is me telling you im leaving it ambiguous because i too dont know, im making it work in a narrative sense). Vertin unseen to Sonetto is miraculously picked up by Urd, so mother-daughter duo travelling the world and gaining insight and haunting the damn narrative as Urd already does but double the annoyance to people figuring out who is who.

So Vertin is a editor and photographer for UTTU alongside her mother, knowing the truth of the Storm and can only watch Sonetto from a distance, only interfering with necessary. Hence saving her in the trial. How does she not recognise Vertin? Through manipulation of the fog, we know on some level the Storm can infect memories so lets say the duo can similar to the immunity can obscure facts about themselves.

So anyways, Sonetto was tasked to find the pair (duo name TBA) similar to Vertin in canon on the Island. Tie it back to seeing the outside world promise Vertin gave her and boom, two motivations for Sonetto, fulfil the wish of an old friend and now seek the people that might have answers to the Storm especially the one that eerily reminds her of Vertin.

More or less everything plays out the same, Sonetto does get more involved with 37, again growing pains with Sonetto learning to be a more charismatic leader alongside Schneider giving tips.

In terms of events: more or less the same, where Vertin is replace with Sonetto (Uluru), for Greenlake sans Vertin replace with Schneider (general idea again I point to @schneiderenjoyer 's AU they did a Greenlake event with Schnieder, its more or less the idea here with ofc no Vertin).

Ok thats all for now folks! Feel free to change or add anything. Feel free to ask as well I like to feed the brainworms now and again

[lumosinlove]

a breakaway snoop if you please?? <3

!!!

Logan watched the way Finn pushed the new glasses up his nose. He was Finn. He would lose the self-consciousness in that gesture in no time at all. Soon it would become as poised and flawless as the rest of him.

“Hello?” Finn said.

Logan blinked and realized Finn was staring back at him, sun catching the tortoise shell frames.

“Quoi,” Logan said, and it came out raspy. He cleared his throat. “What?”

“I’m hungry?”

“Oh, yeah.” Logan stood up. He took his hat off, pushed his hair back, put it back on. “Yeah.”

“Yeah what?”

“What?”

Finn laughed. “Where do you want to go?”

“Did you ask me that?”

Finn titled his head back. “Yes.”

“Oh, oh.” Logan’s face felt hot. “Um—pizza?”

“Finally. God.” Finn tipped Logan’s hat down over his eyes as he swung himself up from his chair. “Let’s go.”

[truthwatcher-vez]

ask game: 9 with rlainarin? ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

For ash-sokia, for the write a kiss ask game #9: a kiss in public. 

Author's Note: This fic started out light-hearted and then took a more serious turn during the writing process.  Many, many thanks to cosmere-play, rysn and Priscellie for beta-reading!

Content warnings for classism, speciesism, prejudice

Renarin fidgeted nervously as he and Rlain neared their destination for the evening, a classy new winehouse that had just opened up in an upscale part of the Breakaway market.  It was similar to the establishment on the Shattered Plains where Adolin and Shallan had first gone out together.  When Renarin had heard about the winehouse, it had seemed like a good choice for their first public date.  …Well, a first date somewhere outside of the usual haunts frequented by the members of Bridge Four.  Renarin had heard that this winehouse was supposed to have a relaxing atmosphere and a truly impressive list of wines.

Rlain had initially seemed hesitant about the idea, but ultimately he had given in to Renarin’s enthusiasm, and had agreed they should give it a try.

Renarin was so caught up in his own nerves that he almost didn’t notice the odd look that the master-servant at the door gave him as she double-checked his reservation.  As they were being shown to a table, Renarin thought he could feel her staring at his back.  There were whispers at the tables surrounding them, and someone sniggered.  Renarin flushed and tried to ignore it.  He’d grown too comfortable in Adolin’s shadow when he was among other Alethi lighteyes, forgetting how much Adolin’s presence protected him from being targeted as the ‘strange Kholin’.

Renarin took his time reviewing the wine lists, which were written out in Alethi glyphs as well as women’s script.  Rlain professed that he found the number of choices overwhelming, and asked Renarin for advice.  Renarin gladly obliged.  As he began sharing his expertise regarding all of the different wines, something in him began to relax.  Rlain listened attentively, offering questions here or there, and eventually they settled on some specialty wines from northern Azir.  A glass of sapphire for Renarin and a red for Rlain.

The wine really was excellent, and the alcohol took the edge from Renarin’s nervousness.  As the two of them continued to make comfortable small talk, Rlain raised a hand in a tentative gesture to request a refill of his water goblet.  Renarin noticed immediately when the signal was overlooked by the winehouse staff.  He followed up by flagging a servant himself, and the man quickly came over with a pitcher and refilled their glasses.  A little while later, the same thing happened again.  Then Renarin ordered them another round of wine--orange this time in accordance with the Codes.  Another master-servant brought Renarin’s wine over quickly.  Rlain’s… didn’t arrive.

Oh.  What was happening finally began to sink in.  The looks and the whispers hadn’t been about him.  Or they hadn’t entirely been about him.  Rlain had known, or had suspected this would happen.  He’d expressed hesitancy when they’d first discussed the winehouse--pointing out that darkeyes typically wouldn’t be allowed into such a place, and singers had the darkest eyes of all.  Renarin had brushed off the concern at the time, responding that Rlain was a Knight Radiant now, and Radiants belonged to a class all their own.

Apparently, not everyone agreed with that sentiment.

He was suddenly deeply mortified, because he hadn’t really spared a second thought about the situation from Rlain’s perspective.  Renarin had wanted to go out so that they could have a good time together, but he had caused Rlain pain without meaning to. 

“I’m sorry,” Renarin said abruptly, with genuine remorse.  “I didn’t mean for our date to turn out like this.”  He reached across the table and took both of Rlain’s hands in his own.

Apparently, not everyone had heard the new gossip that Dalinar Kholin’s son and the listener from Bridge Four were openly courting, either.  A brightlady at a nearby table gasped and visibly recoiled from them, shockspren forming and breaking in the air around her head.  Behind her, a master-servant on the way to deliver wine to another patron forgot her training and nearly fumbled her tray as she stared.  And at yet another table, an elderly brightlord in Bethab colors muttered something harshly under his breath, his brows drawing downward as he attracted a bevy of aversionspren.

That was the very last straw.  Something in Renarin snapped, filling him with fury.  It didn’t often show itself, but he had his father’s temper.  Having to witness the insults to Rlain, and to the two of them together, was absolutely intolerable.

Renarin slid his chair out from the table with a long scraping sound that made conversations trail off and drew every eye in the winehouse.  Then he rose and walked around the side of the table to stand over Rlain, placing a hand firmly on the back of his chair.  He left a trail of bubbling angerspren in his wake.

The listener eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you…?”

Renarin drew in a deep breath as he scanned the entire room.  Then he attempted to channel his cousin Jasnah as he spoke out loudly, letting the tone of his voice drop to match the temperature of the snow caps outside the tower.

“The wine here is good, and the selection is excellent.  But the service is appalling, and the ambiance is even worse.  A brightlord’s guest is a brightlord’s guest, deserving to be treated with dignity and respect.  No one here is in any position to dare question whom a brightlord of the second dahn chooses to invite out for the evening.  Especially when that guest is a storming war hero and a Knight Radiant.”

Renarin looked down at Rlain’s upturned face, and raised his other hand to cup his cheek.  He spared a moment to hope that he wasn’t being too presumptuous, then he stooped down and firmly kissed him.

The kiss was chaste, determined, defiant.  He meant it to be a deliberate message to everyone else in the room.  You can’t ignore us and we’re not going anywhere.  This is something you’re just going to have to get used to.

Rlain went very still--not drawing away, but not exactly reciprocating either.  It caused a bit of Renarin’s anger to slide sideways.  You’re doing this wrong, he told himself critically.  He’d been attempting to help, but had just wound up messing things up, as always. 

Then the listener’s quiet humming changed subtly, shifting to something calmer.  Rlain leaned in and returned the kiss, and Renarin felt himself relax marginally.

When Renarin drew himself back up to his full height again, he quickly spotted the man whose clothing marked him as the head master-servant of the winehouse.  He glared and gestured pointedly down at Rlain’s wineglass, still sitting empty on the table.  The man got the message, and another master-servant quickly scurried over with the missing goblet of orange wine.    

Renarin returned to his seat, his anger slowly dissipating.  He felt the weight of Rlain’s gaze on him as the listener sipped at his wine, and it caused a flush to rise in his face.  “I’m sorry,” Renarin apologized again, as the ambient noise of the winehouse began to resume.  “I probably should have handled that differently.”

“Probably,” Rlain agreed mildly.  The cadence of the word was unfamiliar, and Renarin wished he understood enough about the rhythms to know which one Rlain was attuning right now.  “Still, you chose to speak up, to a room full of lighteyes.  I…no one’s ever really done that for me before.”  Slowly, he extended a hand across the table.  Renarin reached out and took it, twining their fingers together.

Renarin had acted out of anger in the moment, drawing everyone’s attention to them without even asking Rlain what he wanted.  That had been a mistake.  They were courting now, and situations like this would almost certainly happen again.  Moving forward, he resolved to do better.

As they continued to drink their wine in silence, Rlain spoke again.  “In my experience, people don’t change unless they’re given a reason.  I love Bridge Four, but they never would have let me carry a spear if I hadn’t made a point of asking first.”  He looked up and met Renarin’s eyes.  “So yes, I’m willing to make lighteyes uncomfortable if it causes some of them to confront their own perceptions of the singers.  If there’s a chance that it results in one tiny step towards singers being more accepted at Urithiru.”

Renarin nodded thoughtfully. Then he smiled at Rlain.  “Making lighteyes uncomfortable is kind of my specialty.”

Rlain smiled back at him.  “I appreciate that. Now why don't we take a look at the wine list again.  I’d be interested in trying that vintage from Tu Bayla….”

[mikedfaist]

I know you mentioned reader stumbling/tripping on stage, but how does mike deal with her getting seriously hurt? whether that be at a show, doing her own stunt on set (I’m working on a set rn and the scenes I’m doing are veryyyy stunt heavy so it made me think of this scenario) or just a silly accident?

It’s not uncommon for her to get hit with objects on stage, though thankfully, it’s mostly flowers, or plushies, or bras. This instance happened one summer, when someone threw a phone and it hit in her in the eye. Mike was not in attendance at this show, and she’s almost grateful he wasn’t. She was transported to the hospital and had to get stiches, but not before finishing the last song with blood all down her face. (The now iconic photo of her became the cover of Rolling Stone the following month labeling her one of the most badass woman in music, though she commented on it saying she wasn’t going to leave early when everyone paid money to see her, but she digresses.)

She called him from the ER, praying she would get to him before he heard from anyone else. (He was sleeping; it went to voicemail. She curses at the time zones).

An hour later, he wakes up and realizes what’s happened. He too curses himself, because of course this is the one show he doesn’t attend. He feels awful, and angry, and threatens to get on a plane to come see her, but she pushes him down.

“Just a few stitches—not losing an eye over this.”

“Okay, but you could have—”

“But I didn’t.”

When they are reunited a couple days later, her demeanor has changed, and she’s a lot less apathetic towards the entire ordeal. She’s sullen, and clings onto him in the entryway to his hotel.

“I need a break.” She’s tired, and her eye is nearly engulfed in purple and black. The world wouldn’t see her for nearly a year after this.

As for an injury on set, there’s a scene she does where she jumps out of a window, and it’s only like a 3 feet fall, and she nailed all of the rehearsals, so she wasn’t really worried, but during what ended up being the final take, she lands awkwardly and feels two separate pops in her ankle. She finishes the take, but the pain is borderline unbearable. Come to find out, she tore two ligaments, and had to be in a boot for several weeks. She was not thrilled, especially so, since she was attending a wedding with Mike only a couple weeks later, and, “This boot does not go with this dress.”

Luckly for her, that’s the worst injury she’s ever gotten. She did have to get stiches in her hand once when she punched a mirror that turned out to not be breakaway glass. There’s a whole thing about it in Watch Mojo’s Top 20 Actor Injuries You ACTUALLY See in the Movie. It also helped she got an Oscar for that role, and that scene is the most talked about.

[bordysbae]

52. “i want this to be real, not fake anymore” with Brendan brisson ☺️

“fake dating”

brendan brisson x f!reader

not proof read!!

wc: 1.0k

you and brendan met a little less than a year ago when he moved to vegas for hockey. you guys live in the same apartment complex, so it all started with the casual ‘morning!’ and ‘has the mailman come yet?’ type of greetings. thankfully, you both grew close over the first two months of brendan being in vegas, and now you two are closer than ever.

it’s strictly platonic though. especially since you see how many girls brendan invites over after going out clubbing. but it doesn’t bother you since you’re basically doing the same with other guys, but you can’t from having slight feelings for him. he’s exactly your type, he has brown fluffy hair, a nice build, he’s taller than you, a sweet smile, he’s funny, and the list goes on.

one day as brendan is sitting on your couch, watching a basketball game on television with you, he says something that catches you off guard.

“i need you to pretend to be my girlfriend,” he blurts out, making your eyes go wide.

“excuse me what?” you say, almost choking on air.

“i accidentally told my mom i have a girlfriend since she was pestering me, and my parents are coming to town next weekend for the game. so can you just pretend to be my girlfriend? i mean they already have an idea of who you are, so it wouldn’t be suspicious. all you need to do is sit with them at the game in my jersey, and have dinner with them for the couple of days that they’re in town,” brendan grins, trying to convince you to say yes.

“that’s all i have to do?”

“well, there is one more thing,” he says bashfully

“and that is…?”

“you need to spend the night at my apartment, for two nights in a row,” he chuckles awkwardly, afraid of what you’ll say.

“brendan brisson! i am not sharing a bed with you!” you exclaim

“cmon please! i’ll pay you if you really want me to. i just need my mom to hop off my ass about getting a girlfriend!” he pleads.

“fine, i’ll do it. you owe me fifty.”

“deal, thank you so much y/n!” he says, as he sits up off of the couch to hug you, but you shrug him off jokingly.

—

the weekend you’ve been dreading is finally here. you’re currently sat right by the ice next to brendan’s parents, in the brisson jersey you purchased in the gift shop only three days before this.

“go brendan honey!” his mom yells as he’s skating down the ice. he almost makes it in, but the shot gets blocked by calgary’s goalie. at first you don’t really care to yell out to brendan, but you realize it looks bad as his “girlfriend,” so you begin to do it despite the awkwardness you feel. but as soon as brendan is on the breakaway, skating closer and closer to the goal, the words “go bren, you got this babe!” flow smoothly out of your mouth like it’s something you’ve said a million times before.

as the little black puck goes straight into the goal, you immediately shoot out of your seat and start cheering as loud as possible. his mother turns to you with a big smile on her face, both of you incredibly proud of brendan. brendan is slammed into the glass by his teammates as a congratulations, coincidentally right in front of you and his parents. he turns around to face you guys, and gives you an extra big smile, and a look of ‘thank you for doing this.’

—

later that night you all go out for drinks and food. you and brendan are squished in the booth next to each other, sat across from his parents who are now asking you a multitude of personal questions.

“so, how did you and brendan meet again?” his father asks. all of these questions are slightly sticking up your anxiety, and brendan notices. out of the corner of his eyes he sees you picking at your fingers and bouncing your knee, so he gently takes your right hand in his left one, and places your guys’ entangled hands on your thigh.

the comfort of brendan touching you soothes your worries, and you’re able to answer the question with ease. “we met in the apartment complex! i live a few doors down from him, so we sort of saw each other a lot. one thing lead to another, and now we’re here!” you smile, looking over at brendan who’s already looking at you.

“aww that’s too cute! reminds me of us, and how we met!” his mom says, turning to her husband.

once you all finish dinner and drinks, you head back to brendan’s apartment. there’s the final period of one last game on television, so him and his father are watching that intently as you get to know his mother better. you’re tucked under brendan’s arm, sharing a blanket with him. before you even realize it, you’re dozing off. you’re awoken as brendan is placing you gently on his bed, pulling the covers above your body.

“mm, brendan thank you,” you groggily mumble out.

“of course y/n, goodnight,” he says as he turns off the bedroom light.

“where are you going?” you ask

“oh i’m gonna sleep on the floor”

“what?” you say, immediately sitting up to see that he’s made himself a little bed on the floor. you gasp at the sight, “are you crazy?! get into the bed! it’s cold, and this is your bed brendan!” you whisper yell at him, making him chuckle. he crawls into bed next to you, and you snuggle into the warmth radiating off of his bare body, but still being careful not to touch him.

“hey y/n?” he mutters, staring at the ceiling.

“yeah?” you say softly, turning on your other side to face him.

“i want this to be real, not fake anymore. i hate having to pretend when i know that i wish it wasn’t fake. i’ve wanted to ask you out for awhile now, but i never had the courage,” he admits, making your heart flutter.

“really? like this isn’t some sick joke?”

“yeah, why would it be a joke?”

“i don’t know brendan, but i feel the same way,” you admit shyly

“really? you do?” he asks softly, as he turns his head to look down at you.

“yup,” you smile, as brendan does the same. he pulls your closer into his body and gently kisses your lips. you’re both very tired, but still manage to enjoy the sweet and intimate moment. you both close your eyes to rest for the night, embracing each others warmth.