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light-yaers · 11 days

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Take Care: Chapter Fourteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: YEEE FUCKING HAW WE'RE BACK AND LONGER THAN EVER. FEAST, MY PRETTIES.

Word count: 10k+

Chapter Fourteen:

Well, Arlo. It seems the Greyhounds have actually… done something right?

I know, Chris. If you’d told me they’d be in this position, not even in the Premier League, yet through to the FA Cup final, then well! I’d have eaten my hat!

But Arlo, you don’t own any hats.

There’s lots that you don’t know about me, Chris.

Oh. Well, I’d like to find out more one day, Arlo.

Maybe one day, Chris. Maybe one day… But, moving forward– it seems AFC Richmond’s new coach, badboy Roy Kent, has well and truly shared the fabled ‘Roy Kent Effect’ once more.

That’s certainly true, Arlo! Kent and his teammates have never worked so well, even when he was on the pitch next to them. I think this is the start of a blossoming season for the Greyhounds.

I agree, Chris. So, you heard it here, folks. AFC Richmond are off to Wembley!

A few weeks after Roy’s return, you found yourself feeling the love. When you came to, you were screaming your head off. Everything was a giant blur of those familiar reds and blues, so you knew you were home. The locker room still looked the same as always, but the players within were so drastically separate from how they were a week ago that you could hardly fucking believe it.

AFC Richmond were going to Wembley for the FA Cup final. The only downside– they were against Manchester fucking City. You weren’t about to dampen their joy, though. You suspected they all knew exactly what was at stake, but they deserved this. They deserved to feel like winners.

Sam bound over to you as soon as he could. His embrace brought you back down to earth, and you hugged him back so tightly that it was a miracle neither of you passed out. “God, I am so proud of you,” you whispered into his shoulder.

He reciprocated by squeezing you once more, before you tugged apart. “You still bring us good luck. You are part of the reason we have come this far.” He spoke so earnestly that you couldn’t stop your throat from drying up.

You swallowed painfully, utterly overwhelmed. Sam went one step further, however, when he stepped onto one of the benches. “Hey, guys! Guys!” he yelled, bringing the sound in the room right down. Every player, and coach alike, turned to him and listened intently. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this position without the help of every single person in this room.” Sam looked down at you then, smiling like the golden sun. “Thank you, everyone! We’re Richmond till we die!”

The room erupted into roars that no jungle could replicate. You soaked up their cheers, their happiness, their togetherness, and as you did you sensed someone close by: Roy.

He stood in the doorway of the manager’s office, wearing a tracksuit that donned Richmond’s logo. He’d fallen into his coach position as if he’d always been here– assertively, strongly, respectfully. When you glanced around the room and saw him, you had to stop just for a moment to take him in. You smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you. When he eventually caught your eye, you quickly looked beyond him, acting as if you hadn’t been eyeing him up for the better half of a minute.

Roy liked it when you looked like this– happy, content, in the middle of a bustling and buzzing room yet perfectly fine with just existing and not speaking. You were good like that, good at listening and observing. You were also good at talking when you got to it, but Roy’s initial annoyance whenever you opened your mouth had quickly disappeared after a few weeks into your placement at the club. That sentiment had only grown over the past year and a half.

Jesus– eighteen months. It’d really gone fast, hadn’t it? Eighteen months, and you’d grown into your talent and only increased your work ethic (even if you secretly hated your current position). Eighteen months, and Roy had played his last game of football ever, but coached his first professional game since.

Roy leaned on the doorframe of the manager’s office and crossed his arms. Dani had his hands wrapped around your neck lovingly from behind. The two of you swayed back and forth as the team continued rejoicing. Slowly, you latched your fingers onto Dani’s forearms and held them tightly. Roy knew what that felt like, having you close. He’d been there with you once, when it was impossible to keep your hands off each other in a crowded room like this.

There was another thing that hadn’t happened in eighteen months. You and Roy. Roy and you. In truth, you’d thought about things more than he had. This was amongst one of the first times he’d allowed himself to think of you together, properly, and what it could have been like.

He thought back to November, almost six months ago now, when he’d told you that he had no intention of fucking things up. To do that, you and Roy couldn’t happen– wouldn’t happen.

Roy frowned when he thought about how awful he’d been, not even during that conversation, but afterwards. He hadn’t put up any boundaries, had continued acting the same as he always was around you. It wasn’t kind; he knew that as soon as he’d seen your face on Boxing Day, practically scrambling to get the fuck out of his house.

The bad thing was, however, that Roy didn’t want to stop. Sure, he’d said things would never happen, and you’d graciously accepted that fate and tried to move forward over these past few months like any respectful and decent person would. But, he hadn’t. He’d said the words, but not followed them.

Roy huffed to himself, only now realising– he was a fucking idiot.

This was Roy’s more prominent disease, it seemed: delayed on-set realisation of selfishness. DOROS for short. Maybe he’d always known, but had pushed it all away in favour of keeping you close. Maybe he’d always known, but innately knew that he had never wanted to cut things off with you, so simply acted like he’d never fucking said a thing.

Mentally, Roy added a new to-do box to his list.

Fix things with you.

He would. Oh, he would.

“Roy!” Ted’s familiar accent called from behind him. Roy turned around and looked down at his fellow coach, sat before him with his feet on his desk. Beard was the same, and the two of them looked like peas in a pod. “How’re your first few weeks going?”

Roy balled his fists instinctually. “Good. I think.”

“Well, you gosh darn thunk correctly!” Ted burst, jumping out of his chair in excitement. “And now, I need your help once again. This match next week, the big one.” He stopped directly in front of Roy, chin to chin. “How do we keep the guys like this?”

This meaning the ruckus behind him. Joyful, strong, ready to fight with all they’ve got even if the outcome isn’t in their favour. Roy knew that feeling well, having felt it too many times to count.

He sighed. “It’ll be tough. Come tomorrow, they’ll all start to spiral.”

“How so?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s the hope that kills you.”

Ted’s face soured immediately. “I don’t like your sayings over here.”

“Yeah, well…” Roy turned around to look at the guys. “It’s easier than being fucking disappointed.”

“Screw that!” Ted suddenly exploded. He grabbed Roy’s shoulders and urged him to look in his eyes. “We’re stopping that today. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at those guys right there, acting like that?” Ted asked.

Roy swivelled his head back around to look at them. “I… I dunno?” he said.

Ted squeezed his shoulders abruptly. “Yes, you do! Say it. Say it!”

“All-fucking-right!” Roy yelled. “Her!” He pointed at you without hesitating.

As if on cue, you laughed. You scrunched your eyes shut in happiness, giggling as Dani placed his chin atop your head. He squeezed you tighter, and you giggled even harder, gripping his arms stronger than before. Sam and Colin laughed opposite them, still overcome with the buzzing adrenaline of the win. They all were. You perpetuated that feeling, made the guys want it even more so you could join them at times like this.

Ted moved next to Roy, looking at the same scene. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ted whispered. “You’ve never been more right in your life.”

You had to suck in a deep breath as your laughter dissipated. Your lungs were empty of all reserves, but you’d never felt better about it. Dani gently removed himself from you to head towards Richard and Zoreaux. As he did, the most unexpected thing happened.

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned to greet them with a glowing smile, you stopped short. Jamie Tartt stood before you. “Hey,” he said.

You kept things light as you perked your brow at him quizzically. “Hi.” You smiled. “Congratulations.”

Jamie laughed awkwardly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much.” You’d never tire of his accent, secretly. You were fond of Mancunian. “Listen, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh– sure.”

“Privately,” he added.

You glanced around the locker room quickly, before nodding once. Jamie led you out to the corridor and beyond. He opened the door to the kit room and held it for you as you entered, then followed you inside and shut the door behind him.

You didn’t know where to place yourself. Stood in the centre of the room, overwhelmed by the scent of soggy feet, you turned to the striker and waited. Jamie stood opposite you with the same feeling of being utterly out of place.

“What can I do for you, Jamie?” you started, getting the ball rolling.

“I know we’re not really… er, close.” He clutched his hands together awkwardly, almost unable to meet your eye. “But I know how much you mean to the club and that.”

You huffed amusedly. “Sure,” you agreed.

“Which is why I know you won’t laugh at me when I ask you this.” Tartt finally met your eye, and you were taken aback. Whatever was on his mind you now knew was a big deal. I mean, it had to be for him to approach you like this, surely?

“Okay,” you said sturdily. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s Roy.” You held your breath as he said it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Jamie would come to you about a Roy problem, yet here he was. “He won’t coach me. Not like the others, you know. I know I was a dick in the past, for lack of a better word, and that Roy was on the receiving end sometimes–”

“All the time,” you said, matter of factly. Jamie subtly exploded.

“Okay, fine– all the fucking time– but I’m back now, and I need a fucking coach. I want him to teach me the same way he teaches Sam and Isaac and the rest.”

“But, you don’t know how to ask him,” you said your thoughts out loud.

Jamie nodded quickly, agreeing with you tenfold. “I know he’d tell me to fuck off.”

“Well, of course he’s going to do that.” You almost chuckled from how right he was in saying so. “But, I see where you’re coming from.” Your mind spiralled down different routes, unknowing of where you came into this equation. You could tell Jamie what to say, but you knew what Roy would reply simply because it was Tartt, not you. “Why come to me, though?”

Jamie’s face squished questioningly, like he couldn’t understand why you hadn’t put two and two together just yet. “Roy fucking listens to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh now. “Oh, please. Yeah, he listens. But whether or not he decides to do what I say is a completely different ball game.”

Jamie reached out to you suddenly and gripped your shoulders in desperation. “Please. I know I’m making up for lost time and bad behaviour and whatever else I did to the guys, or Lasso, or Roy, but I need to be useful here. I want to be useful here.”

You regarded him thoughtfully then. It was hard not to take him into account when he was like this, bearing his soul to a person who had never connected with him beforehand. Reaching out to you was a shot in the dark for him, but he’d done it anyway because he wanted to succeed. It was commendable, when you put it all into perspective.

You decided upon a middle ground. “I’ll plant the seed in his head to let you in, alright?”

Jamie let out a clear sigh of relief when you agreed. “Well, fuck– thank you.”

“But!” you continued. “You need to go to him yourself. You need to apologise, and tell him exactly what you said to me. It’s Roy, so he’ll make it a fucking nightmare and will probably be childish and petty and whatever fucking else that grown man is capable of…” As you rambled, the cogs in Jamie’s brain finally understood the whole story– you liked him, didn’t you? “...but he’ll do it eventually. He has to. He’s a coach now, and if you’re here, you deserve to be coached properly.”

Jamie squealed and smiled at the same time, his eyes ablaze with boyish resemblance. He squeezed your shoulders affectionately. “I knew coming to you would work out. I just knew it.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Don’t make it a regular thing,” you joked. “There are only so many strings I can pull with Roy.”

Jamie raised his brows assumptively. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean by that?” All your amusement reluctantly trailed off alongside your words.

“Well,” Jamie started. His grin dropped instantly. “I mean– don’t make me fucking say it. You already know, don’t you?”

“Know what?” you pressed.

“That Roy, y’know. That Roy–” Jamie flailed his arms around like a flapping seagull. “He– y’know…”

You squinted at him. “Are you speaking some kind of secret footballer language that common people like me don’t fucking understand?”

“He likes you!” Jamie finally let out.

“Oh.” You stepped back. Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides. “Stop fucking talking now.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t see it?” Jamie looked you dead in the eye, but all you were capable of doing was looking away from embarrassment. “Well, you’re more stupid than I fucking took you for.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “There’s no need for that shit when I’m digging you out of the mess you fucking made last season.”

He raised his arms up in understanding. “Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad.” You let out your own sigh of relief when you realised the conversation was over.

You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint.

You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen.

You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups.

God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never.

A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”

“Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.”

He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely?

The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately.

If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club.

“What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started.

“Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate.

“And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.”

“Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line.

“You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.”

Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.”

“Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time.

“Go on,” you urged him happily.

“You can’t come to Wembley.”

“What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.

Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly.

“You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated.

Those five words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t understand what he was saying, or what he meant. For a second, you thought he’d got his words mixed up, maybe, but even if they were un-muddled they wouldn’t make sense at all.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said smally, feeling multiple degrees of hurt even though you had no explanation.

“Okay,” Nate replied. “I’ll spell it out for you.” He raised his chin and sucked in a deep and confident breath, “You cannot come to Wembley for the FA Cup final.”

You still didn’t understand, but you understood Nate’s words fully. Why he was saying them, though, you had no idea. Perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted his patronising tone upon entering the room, but had picked it up perfectly. You didn’t know Nate enough to get mad– properly mad– but your blood boiled as you looked at him.

“Why not?” you asked, swallowing sullenly to try and keep the butterflies in your gut at bay.

Nate smiled. You hated that he smiled. It felt grimy and wrong. “Roy, Ted and Beard seem to think that you keep the team happy, and maybe you do. But, this is the fucking FA Cup final. They can’t afford any distractions, and you.” He looked you up and down like a blight. You’d never been looked at like that before in your life. “You are a distraction. You may think you’re helping, but the guys need clear minds and ready heads. You’re a distraction towards all of that.”

You laughed abruptly, at a loss for words. Nate’s smile turned to something much more condescending. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. You froze on the spot.

“It’s just better if you sit this one out, alright? Don’t worry, the guys won’t miss you too much.”

You opened your mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was air. Your lungs collapsed beneath your chest, your heart pumped blood uncomfortably and incredibly fast into your limbs, your organs, your gut. It hurt. It really hurt.

Nate squeezed your shoulder. You stiffened further. “Good talk. Let’s catch up after the final.” He removed his hand from you and left promptly, leaving you in the darkned seclusion of your old office.

Realisation hit you like a double-decker bus. Nate had always been like this a bit, hadn’t he? Not before he became a coach, but afterwards, certainly. A shift had cemented within him as soon as he’d donned the Richmond jacket and owned a desk spot next to Ted and Beard. The whistle around his neck clung to him like a trophy of his authority.

Nathan Shelley was not a nice coach. Good, smart, intelligent, but not nice.

You wondered if Ted knew. You wondered if Beard knew. You wondered if Roy knew. If they did, you knew they’d do something about it, so perhaps not. Innately, despite the weak way your chest scraped air through your crippled lungs, you hoped it was just you that he had gripes with. You hoped he wasn’t like this to any of the guys themselves. Just the thought alone made you angry beyond belief.

No one on the team deserved to be treated the way that Nate had just treated you.

You sucked in a sharp breath quickly, feeling the beginnings and endings of tears behind your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not for this. If you twisted this entire ordeal on its head then it was borderline comical. Not to toot your own horn, but you knew that if any of the guys in the locker room next door found out about this, then they’d take your side.

That was exactly why you couldn’t tell them. You weren’t about to be the reason that AFC Richmond’s managerial team broke apart. They’d come so far already after relegation. You couldn’t– wouldn’t– fuck that all up.

Quietly, you swallowed away your pride and your feelings and left your old office. Silently, you headed back to the locker room and entered timidly.

“There she is,” Roy muttered to Sam as you entered. As you approached him, you realised he’d picked up your bag and slung it over his shoulder to save you holding it yourself. “Ready to go?” he asked, face to face.

Your eyes hit his. You struggled to keep everything at bay, but brushed it off as best as you possibly could. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Here.” You gestured to your bag on his shoulder, but Roy twisted himself away from you.

“I’ve got it.” Roy frowned slowly, a sour feeling sprouted in his gut. “You alright?”

You waved him off. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel all that good, if I’m being honest.”

“Hm.” He reached out confidently and laid his knuckles against your forehead. Roy had done this to you many times. You were used to it, but still allowed yourself to silently indulge in his touch. Besides, you needed this. He didn’t know, but you needed him right now. “You do feel a bit hot, actually,” he said lowly. “Wanna skip the pub and go home?”

Gently, you nodded. Roy’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the same one that Nate had held just minutes before. Quickly, you placed your hand over his. “Yes, please.”

Roy stayed still. Something was wrong, he knew it. There was this look in your eye that coincided with you not feeling well, but that wasn’t all. The way you were standing; slumped, arms wrapped around yourself, as if you were desperately trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. The hand that rested atop his own didn’t feel strong. This wasn’t you, the real you.

Roy nodded at you in understanding. “Okay,” he whispered. Roy turned to the rest of the room and addressed the team. “You’ll have to catch us next week for drinks, boys.”

The collective groan that descended across the room made you feel awful, but there was nothing you could do about it.

Roy sensed your unease. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s fucking enough of that. Get some sleep after your well-deserved booze break, and I’ll see you all bright and early for practice on Monday!”

“Yes, coach!”

You and Roy drove home in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but Roy could tell something was on your mind. It was rare that either of you evaded the weird sixth sense you had about the other now. Roy could read you as clear as he’d read your article about him.

He stopped his Jeep outside your apartment building and killed the engine. You gathered your belongings and shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.” You went to leave.

“Wait.” In one click, Roy had locked your door from the driver’s side door. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not letting you out.”

You huffed, slumping back into your chair in acceptance. “Really?”

“Really,” Roy repeated.

“This is childish, Roy.”

“I don’t fucking care. One moment you were happy as a daisy, and the next you look like you’ve landed on death’s fucking door.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Roy twisted himself to face you more head on. He crossed his arms and waited patiently. “Go on.”

You rolled your eyes, wishing this to be over. “I’m on my period.”

Roy pointed at you quickly. “Don’t try and catch me out with a feminine problem that you assume men don’t want to hear about. I have a fucking sister, and I know all about how crazy her cycle made her. This isn’t that.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, raising your voice slightly. Your stress levels had grown exponentionally in the last minute and a half. You could feel your rapid heartbeat beneath your chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter, alright. If I wanted to talk about it then I would have told you by now.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “Is this about something football related, or something life related?”

“God!” you exploded finally. You wouldn’t mention Nate, but Roy’s incessant poking meant you had to say something real. Maybe this really was something you should have told him a while ago. “You really wanna know?” You turned towards him, eyes crazy and breathing erratic. “I hate my fucking job, okay. And everytime I go to the stadium for a game I’m reminded of everything I left behind and everything I continue to leave behind. The guys, Ted, Beard, you.”

For the first tme since the car stopped, Roy shut his mouth and listened.

“I– I wonder how much longer I can fucking do it. The commute every morning, the staleness of my work colleagues, the giant stack of papers and assignments that are always waiting on my desk to get done because no one else will fucking touch them. I don’t sleep at night properly, and I can’t even cook meals anymore. I feel like–” You sucked in a deep breath and finally looked Roy in the eye. “I feel like, even despite all of you including me in everything, I’m running on the spot behind you and will never be able to catch up. Like I’ll never be part of that world anymore. And it’s, it’s– breaking me.”

Roy leant towards you instinctually.

“Rebecca and Keeley know I hate it, but every time Rebecca talks about getting me a position at the club I freeze. It makes me feel sick that she’d so easily and without question hand me something because I don’t feel like I deserve it. And–!” Roy flicked his eyes over your face, at a loss of what to say. You laughed from a lack of what else to fucking do. “The game last weekend, when you showed up and finally realised your worth as a coach, I almost missed it because I couldn’t take being back there without thinking how much I fucking miss it all. I’m pathetic–”

“No, you’re not,” Roy interjected hoarsely.

You laughed again, on the brink of tears. “Yes, I am. Who does that? Who cries before a fucking game because they can’t handle being there? Me. I do that now, apparently.”

Silence descended inside the Jeep. You finally took a breath, and when you did you realised what you’d done. You leaned back in your seat and faced the windshield, utterly embarrassed that you’d burst at the seams.

“So,” you said smally. “That’s that.” You turned towards Roy again. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

Roy stayed as quiet as a mouse. That wasn’t his style. Glued to his spot, Roy kept his gaze on you thoughtfully. He regarded the look on your face and noticed the subtle embarrassment on your brow; you hadn’t expected to cave so easily when questioned about what was wrong.

He looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers shook subtly as they brushed across your knuckles in worry. Roy hated that you were worrying after being honest about something in your life. It was only him, he thought. Surely you should know that you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

“Sorry,” you blurted out.

Roy huffed, speechless. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fucking–” Roy moved closer to you. “Come here.”

His arms were around you in no time. You stayed stuck in place, stunned, for just a second, until you found yourself hugging him back so fiercely that you couldn’t have thougth of anything you needed more. It was funny. You could count on one hand how many times you and Roy had hugged, and none of them had been like this.

You’d been close before, sure, in proximity and in more. You were close even now, despite counting the conversation you’d both had in November. Everyone on the outside seemed to think of Roy as someone who wasn’t hands-on. He liked his space, he didn’t like to pry or poke, yet here you were– the air being squeezed from your lungs because he’d made you open up for your own good– because he couldn’t think of anything better to show that he cared than to embrace you.

Roy Kent cared so much that it was a wonder he had energy to do anything else.

When the two of you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh. You stayed close, foreheads almost touching. Roy smiled at you genuinely, fully, thoughtfully.

“No wonder you’re going mental,” he said lowly. “That’s a lot to hold onto without letting it out.”

That’s not even the half of it. You wanted to say, but you didn’t.

“You’re not running in place behind us,” Roy continued. “You’re what keeps us all together. You’re the reason I went back to Richmond.” You didn’t say anything, just took in his words. “I didn’t go back just for the game, or the guys– I went back because I knew you’d be in the box, looking down at me on the pitch again.”

Your throat closed slightly, as the urge to cry hit you. You swallowed it away, not wanting to burst again in such a short amount of time. “Well,” you whispered. “I’m glad.”

For a fraction of a second, Roy’s eyes dropped to your lips.

You’d been here before, you thought. You’d been here with him like this so many times that you couldn’t even count them off the top of your head. If you had time, a few minutes maybe, you’d be able to pinpoint every occasion where the word almost screeched within your mind.

Almost there. Almost on you.

Perhaps you’d never get beyond the proverbial almost, but this time felt different. Something had shifted recently. You felt it. Roy’s stares lingered for just a tad too long. Electricity buzzed between you even when you weren’t touching. The joy you’d felt when he’d arrived at the Dogtrack and finally caved in had been second to none. In hindsight, maybe jumping the wall of the home box and running down the steps in the stands to him had been too much.

Roy didn’t think so. He’d relished you being close. His stomach had somersaulted as soon as you’d yelled his name. Secretly, he’d hoped you’d react the exact way you did. He’d done it for you, had he not? He’d come back to Richmond for you.

Without realising, you and Roy had inched closer to each other so much that you both hovered over the centre console of his Jeep. Foreheads almost touching. Hearts almost caving.

You’d been here before so many times.

Roy swallowed without moving a muscle, ready to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Instantly, you crashed back down to earth. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened yourself, leaning back towards the passenger side window. You thought the worst. Was this an ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this’? It had to be, surely.

“Oh,” you let out, flustered. “Don’t apologise, don’t wo–”

“No,” Roy cut you off strongly, unexpectedly leaning closer. “I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot.”

Time stilled. That word– that almost– lingered in the air like dust in the desert. Heavy, dry, suffocatingly warm.

Roy’s expression grew to frustration as quickly as you’d both fallen to silence. “I thought I was doing the right fucking thing, stopping–” He gestured between you both, not able to find words. “I thought it would be better for you, to not get you mixed up in all my shit.”

The penny dropped. You squished your face into a hurt smile involuntarily. “It’s okay, Roy,” you said softly.

“And worse yet,” he continued. “I’ve been a… a fucking arse. Not changing how I acted around you, or what I said, or what I did. I must have made everything ten times fucking worse for you.”

You shook your head immediately. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roy replied instantly. “It does matter. I never wanted to play with your fucking feelings or make what I did more difficult for you, but that’s exactly what I did.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay,” you repeated, just for good measure.

Roy fell silent for a pause, taking in your words as if he really needed to hear them. In fact, you thought he really did need to hear them, straight from your mouth and no one elses.

“You’re sure?” he asked, checked, wanted to make extra fucking sure.

You nodded quickly. “I’m sure.” You smiled, trying desperately not to let the cropped up hurt on your face show through. That wasn’t on him; he hadn’t intended to damage you this way.

“Okay.” Roy breathed out deeply, leaning back into the driver’s seat like the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he whispered, before meeting your eye again. He smiled, accepting the silliness that one felt after being so vulnerable with someone else. “I really fucking need you, you know?”

You laughed first, wanting to say so do I. Instead, you differed your response. “Of course, you fucking do. Who else is going to tell you what to do with your life?”

Roy’s smile lit up all over his face. You remembered a time where you used to count how many times he looked at you like this; honest. Now, it was everyday.

“Exactly,” he said. Gently, he stuck his hand out and laid it upon your cheek. “Fucking exactly.” His thumb swiped across your face warmly. You shivered immensely, but tried desperately to hide it.

You glanced at the radio clock. Time ticked by, and you knew you had to leave this conversation soon. Innately, Roy knew it, too.

“My mum’s coming to Richmond tomorrow morning,” you said softly. Roy’s hand stayed put. You didn’t mind. “I need to go and clean my flat, or she’ll start washing up mugs against my will.”

Roy’s eyes flicked between your own. Affection seeped from within them, so far removed from when you’d first met. Slowly, he removed his hand from your cheek. His fingers skimmed your skin on the way back to his lap. “Okay,” he whispered; acceptance.

Almost would stay the same. Almost had gone the furthest it had ever been.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. Roy unlocked the passenger side door with one button click. You gripped the handle strongly, but paused before you left for good.

“Thank you for listening to me,” you said simply. “I mean– really listening to me.”

Roy stayed still, not leaving your gaze for a second. “Always,” he said lowly.

When the door to your building shut behind you, Roy was still reluctant to drive away. He watched as the light turned on from the window of your ground floor flat, saw your silhouette enter the living room– the room where he’d stood before a few times– and drop your bag to the floor in exhaustion.

Roy drove away when your silhouette disappeared, the feeling of you still present on his fingertips.

You didn’t tell anyone about Nate. You didn’t tell anyone that he’d warded you off or spoke ill of you supporting the team. Instead, you went to work. You encompassed yourself in your job, taking on extra responsibilities despite that being the one reason you felt spread thin.

By Thursday, you were ready to crash. Your bed had been calling you every day, as soon as you disembarked from the train at Richmond tube station. Intentionally, you ignored texts from Rebecca and Keeley about times to rendezvous at Wembley Stadium. If they ever asked, you’d blame it on having too much of a heavy work week. That would be your out.

Logically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to completely miss Richmond playing at Wembley. People would be expecting you there. The guys would be expecting you there. But, despite their cries and pleads for you to be present, you were prepared to keep them at arms length– for Nate’s sake.

When Saturday came, you knew it would be hard for you to avoid everyone at the club. By ten o’clock in the morning, Keeley had already called you twice. By half past the hour, Rebecca had called you three times.

On the fourth time she rang, you knew you had to pick up.

“Darling,” she said quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you said (you lied), secluded in your flat. “This week has been insane. I haven’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t Pluto Press related.”

Rebecca made a guttural sound in her throat. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “I’ll send a car. It can be there in twenty minutes if need be.”

“It’s okay. I can get the tube. Don’t worry–”

“Oh,” Rebecca cut you off. Her tone switched instantly. “Actually, don’t worry about a car. I think someone is waiting for you out front.”

As if on cue, the horn from Roy’s Jeep sounded from your living room window.

Quickly, you ran to the window. Between your sheer curtains, Roy’s obsidian black Jeep was stationed on the road by your front door. You couldn’t curse on your call with Rebecca, but by God– you wanted to.

“Is that the cavalry coming for me?” you said down the phone, peeved.

“Yes, it is,” Rebecca said smugly. “See you in an hour, darling.” She hung up the phone fast, so quick that you couldn’t give any excuse to get out of this match.

Quickly, you gathered a bag of belongings and left your flat. Reluctantly, you descended the steps of your building and pulled the handle of the passenger side door of Roy’s Jeep. You settled quickly, without fuss, but words dangled in the air as soon as silence descended within the car.

“Ready to go?” Roy said from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Roy didn’t push you, but he did push upon the accelerator and toward Wembley Stadium.

Roy parked in the car park beneath the stadium, only for players or coaches, and killed the engine.

You grabbed your bag quickly and left his Jeep, knowing what happens when you’re trapped inside with nowhere to go. The two of you made your way through the back entrance of the stadium. It was a miracle that Roy hadn’t asked what was wrong– you were being quiet and subdued, that was enough of a trigger for him to know something was up.

You wondered if Nate had eyes on you. You wondered if he was watching you traverse the inner sections of Wembley, if he saw you freak out when going past the locker room, if he saw you retreat into yourself past the press rooms.

Roy didn’t wonder. He kept his eyes on you through it all.

Silence hung in the air uncomfortably as you passed office after office. These were the inner workings of a stadium; a world that you knew well, but nothing like that of the Dogtrack.

You finally broke the air. “I should really get to Rebecca and Keeley,” you said.

“And you will,” Roy said. “There’s just one stop we have to take first.”

Your heart stilled as soon as he turned to the right, entering into the final office on the long corridor you’d traversed. You were hit with the nervous gazes of Ted and Beard immediately, but you didn’t care for the way their expressions faltered softly—

You cared for the way Nate’s eyes bored into you with no remorse. At the back of the room, he glared at you ten times worse than he’d done the week before at the Dogtrack.

“Writer!” Ted exclaimed, filling the tension in the air with his enthusiasm. “Oh, thank God,” he added in a whisper.

“Hi,” you said smally, accepting a hug from him suddenly.

You hated this. As you removed yourself from Ted’s grasp, you could feel the steely eyes of one Nathan Shelley staring you down, like a child did to an ant before he crushed it with his shoe.

After you left Ted’s embrace, you stepped back so quickly that you almost tripped over Roy’s feet. He steadied you instantly, keeping his hand at your lower back.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Ted said, gaining some colour back on his face.

You laughed nervously. “I should really go and find Rebecca and Keeley. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Poppycock!” Ted exclaimed. “You’re exactly what we needed. The guys are in the locker room just down there, why don’t you go and say—,”

“No!” you burst suddenly.

The room went quiet instantly. Beard looked at Ted quizzically. You could feel Roy’s stare on the back of your neck.

“They need to focus,” you stuttered. “I should just go and find my seat.”

Nate stepped forward a few paces, coming between Ted and Beard silently. “I think that’s a good idea. Let her go and find her girlfriends.”

You hated the way words fell from his mouth. You knew he had you exactly where he wanted you— uncomfortable, vulnerable, everything in between— but you were in no situation to open this can of worms with Ted, Beard and Roy.

You gripped your bag on your arm tightly and turned to Roy. “I’ll see you on the pitch,” you said timidly. Quickly, and without thinking, you pressed a chaste kiss on Roy’s cheek, and left promptly.

You had no idea where you were going, but knew that you couldn’t stop as you made your way down the inner corridors of Wembley.

All you knew was that you needed to be where Nate Shelley was not, as soon as humanly possible.

“Have a glass of wine,” Rebecca said sternly from the internal bar by the VIPs box.

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping yourself contained.

Her smile turned to a frown. Oh, she knew you far too well for you to get out of this one.

“Take the fucking wine glass, darling.”

“Okay.” You took the glass of wine instantly and downed one, two, three gulps. You breathed out. “Oh, that’s better.”

“Mhm,” she hummed, satisfied.

“Sorry,” you said between gulps and sips. “It’s just been a long week.”

“I can see that,” she said, looking you up and down. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your job?”

Shit. She knew something else was up. They all fucking did, and it drove you insane. Innately, you cursed yourself out for being so well-known, so well-loved. You were surrounded by the people who knew you most in this world, but also by the people that didn’t want you around. It was a double-edged sword of inescapable proportions, and you were tired.

“That’s all it is,” you said, trying to adopt as much sincerity as you possibly could.

Rebecca’s frown stayed put as her eyes roamed your face. Gently, she reached out her hand and ran her expensively manicured nails through your hair softly.

“You’d let us know, wouldn’t you?” she said, and you froze with your wine glass to your lips. “You’d let us know if it was something else, too?”

Keeley shoved a mini sausage roll in her mouth and approached you both quickly. “It’s Roy, isn’t it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not Roy,” you groaned.

“Then what is it!” Keeley exclaimed, launching pastry crumbs across the bar.

Before you could respond, applause broke out from the crowd immensely. You gulped down the rest of your wine quickly and dropped the empty glass on a side table by the door to the stands.

“That’s kick off,” you said, already on your way to take a seat.

The conversation went unfinished, as Rebecca and Keeley followed you out of the door towards the pitch. They didn’t attempt to pry during the game, too caught up in the song and dance of yelling chants for Richmond, of being present, of supporting.

You knew you’d dodged a bullet, as you screamed your lungs out from the stands. But, you knew your silence was on a time limit. If anyone would get something out of you, it was Rebecca and Keeley.

And you knew it would only be a matter of time before they broke your silence (for the better).

When the full-time whistle blew, you felt helpless. You could only imagine how the guys were feeling, knowing that they’d lost so spectacularly against none other than Manchester City.

The person who your heart went out to the most, however, was not normal. It wasn’t Roy, it wasn’t Ted, it wasn’t even Sam or Isaac or Colin— it was Jamie Tartt.

You knew he’d be hurting the most from this immense defeat. His old team, his past life, and at Wembley fucking stadium no less. He’d be in bits.

“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’s that, then.”

“The guys will be crushed,” Keeley said sadly.

“Jamie will be crushed.” The pair of them looked at you as you spoke. Their sombre faces were enough for you to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on.” Rebecca passed you and stepped out of the stands. “Let’s go and commiserate with them.”

You tensed instantly, watching silently as Keeley stood up and followed Rebecca. The two of them waited for you at the end of the row.

“I should really head home,” you said finally, trying to keep your expression neutral.

“What?” Keeley.

“Why on Earth do you need to leave now?” Rebecca.

“It’s just— I don’t want to crowd them, you know?” The pitch of your voice had risen. You sounded like a mouse, a lying, cheating mouse.

The two of them stared at you like you were mental. Neither said anything, their expressions spoke a thousand words for them— what the hell is up with you?

You faltered first. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh no, we absolutely will look at you like this,” Rebecca said threateningly. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You look like a labrador that’s shit all over the carpet!”

“I really hope you haven’t shat on someone’s carpet, but if you have, you can tell us.” Keeley leaned down and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I haven’t shat on a fucking carpet!”

“Then come on!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Your team needs you.” Her words stung you internally. “They need you.”

Rebecca’s commanding nature jumped out tenfold. You were stuck at an impasse, between a rock and a hard place, whatever other metaphor you could use for being trapped. One side of your brain projected a sad picture of the guys in the locker room, begging for a friendly face to come and lift them up; and the other— Nate was glaring at you like you’d just done something terribly wrong.

God, you hated this. No one knew the way he’d talked to you, or what he’d said. And the worst part was that you couldn’t tell them— wouldn’t— from how much drama it would create.

Football was supposed to be your safe space. Watching matches with your girls, cheering or crying in the locker room with the guys, urging Ted, Beard and Roy on whenever you could.

Nate had taken that all away after one simple conversation.

You didn’t know how to tell them no. If it was up to you, you would have sprung out of your seat and ran down to the locker rooms without any hesitation.

But, it wasn’t up to you. Nate’s words rattled around your mind like beads in a maraca.

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She leant down and grabbed your hand swiftly, warmly. “We’re here with you. Whatever you need, we’re always here. But, those boys need us the most right now. You know them better than I do—,”

“And me! You know them better than me, too!” Keeley joined in supportively.

“They don’t want us without you, and that’s a fact.”

You let out a shaking breath, then nodded quickly. Nate would have to move to the fucking side.

“Okay.” You nodded again, strongly. “Okay— let’s go see our boys.” You stood up quickly, not letting go of Rebecca’s hand.

“Your boys,” Rebecca said sternly. “They’re all yours.”

Navigating the lower levels of Wembley was nerve wracking, you couldn’t lie. Scenarios raced through your head of things going terribly wrong; Nate stopping you in the corridor; Nate forbidding you from entering the locker room; Nate this, Nate that.

Fuck this shit.

Rebecca was right. They were your boys, your team. You knew them on levels that didn’t revolve around football, you knew them as people. And by God, they needed that. This time, they needed someone to make them feel something other than defeated.

The corridors were clear when the three of you turned the corner to the locker rooms. Only a security guard stood at the door of Richmond, and he very easily let you all in when you approached.

You held your breath when you finally entered. The guys sat in their respective cubby holes sullenly, elbows on knees, heads in their hands.

You’d seen this before at Roy’s last game. Silence even deeper than when you both sat in the Dogtrack locker room alone littered the air at Wembley. You could only imagine what the guys were feeling, like history was repeating itself on so many levels for the team.

You caught eyes with Jamie first. He looked broken.

Rebecca and Keeley headed towards the coaches, but you felt stuck in place by the door, frozen by the sad atmosphere in the room.

Roy saw you before you saw him. He strolled over slowly and reached out to grab your forearm. “Hey,” he said softly.

You flashed back to reality and gazed up at him. “Hey.” Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly. He clutched you back strongly, and you knew that he’d been needing a hug with the same fervour as yours.

You didn’t need to say you were sorry. He’d probably heard it enough already. He knew you felt the sting of a loss this big just as much as he did.

When you went to pull away, he squeezed you tighter. Evidently, he wasn’t done just yet.

“Well, guys,” Ted said to the room. Roy finally tugged away, but he kept a firm grasp around your waist as the two of you turned to listen to Ted’s address. “We lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to say it, because the look on your faces says it all.” Ted’s southern drawl felt like therapy. Within seconds, the team felt acknowledged, and that was all that mattered. “We all knew this was going to be tough, and for just a moment I want you all to forget the score, forget the goals and whatever else, and just think of how you all played like a proper team.”

Ted had a way with words that you knew was the main reason his career was so vast. You didn’t know a thing about American football, but you knew that Ted was a stellar coach whether it was football or soccer in his eyes.

“You played as a team today,” Ted continued. “And sure, you’re allowed to be sad about the outcome, I’m not about to tell you you can’t feel that sting, but—.” Roy squeezed your waist. You wondered if he was doing it subconsciously. “But you all need to know that you were a unit today. One that has got us up through these ranks and back on the radar of the Premier League, even if the FA Cup wasn’t ours this time around.”

His words settled over the room and brought back a sense of self to all the players. Next to you, Roy breathed out softly and in understanding. You could feel the tension within him dissipate ever so slightly.

And then, that all went away.

“Knock knock!” a voice sounded from the door to the locker room. A second later, a face you didn’t recognise turned the corner and into the room. “Awh no, sorry for the loss, lads,” he said, as your eyes darted quickly around the room, trying to find any semblance of familiarity. You found it in Jamie’s eyes instantly. “Though, not fully sorry. Because Man City fuckin’ won!” His Mancunian accent reverberated throughout the room.

You understood immediately, as you watched Jamie’s hands ball into fists. The rest of the team stayed back, as if glued to their cubbies. This was Jamie’s father. It had to be.

Jamie’s dad pottered further into the room, towards his son. Jamie stood up as he did, sucking a deep breath into his tired lungs. “My boy, my boy. You bottled it didn’t ya?”

Your entire body tensed as everyone observed, not saying a word. Jamie’s dad only kept coming, not paying any mind to the other players in the room. Roy’s grip on your waist tightened suddenly, as if he could feel your anxiety rising. You could feel the same from him; every muscle in his body tried desperately to hold back.

Jamie’s father lunged towards his son’s face, so close that Jamie couldn’t look anywhere else. “You hear me, boy? You fuckin’ bottled it, didn’t ya?” he repeated.

“Don’t speak to me that way,” Jamie said quickly, seething.

“Wha?” his father faked not hearing him, getting even closer.

“Do not speak to me that way,” Jamie repeated. His father looked up to his face, catching his eye lethally.

Your gut lurched as his father kept going, kept repeating wha?, kept getting closer and closer to his boy’s face. This was vile, and you could hardly believe no one was doing anything.

“Wanna say that to me again, boy?”

Jamie stood his ground, puffing out his chest to be bigger, straightening out his spine to be taller, and better, and whatever else he hadn’t learned from his shit-bag of a father.

“Huh?” he said again, louder. “Huh!” he exclaimed. Alongside his voice, his hands bombarded into Jamie’s chest– hard.

Something within you snapped. Your chest compressed, your intestines warped, and your legs started moving. Roy’s grip disappeared from around your waist as you rushed forward, not giving a shit about the audience, or about the guys, or about Nate. Nate, who was standing behind Ted and Beard, saying and doing nothing.

Inside, you stopped caring. You didn’t give a fuck if he hated you being around, you didn’t give a fuck if you’d get in trouble from this outburst, but you had to do something– anything. Jamie Tartt was being publicly abused by his father in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t fucking stand it.

Maybe this is what Roy meant. You were the glue. You kept everyone together, you brought Roy back to the team. Maybe this is what you’d always been meant to do– protect these boys from whatever you fucking could, when they weren’t able to for themselves.

As Jamie recovered, ready to strike, you were already one step ahead. In a fraction of a second, you were already beside his father, fist raised. When your knuckles hit his skin, you finally came back into the room. There were two crashes; one from the impact of your fist on his father’s cheekbone; the second from him hitting the floor unceremoniously.

Quickly, Beard approached you and hoisted Jamie’s dad up by his armpits. The two of them backed out of the door, clambering over stray shoes and shirts and whatever else that lay on the floor. Without any warning, two large arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you off the ground. You knew it was Roy as soon as you smelled his cologne. You smiled inappropriately, and then you chuckled to yourself deviously.

You’d just punched Jamie’s piece of shit dad in the fucking face.

And it felt fantastic.

Clatters sounded from the outside corridor. Beard breathed heavily as he made his way back into the locker room, and the door slammed loudly behind him. The air felt heavy as eyes darted around the room. The guys looked at each other, then to Beard, then to you. Roy still held you tightly, dangling you above the ground as you tried your damned hardest not to burst into laughter.

You couldn’t feel your hand. Your knuckles were red when you dropped your gaze to look. Your hand shook, finger bones stuck in place as they contemplated what their owner had just done– thrown a punch for the first time in her fucking life, and very haphazardly at that.

When Jamie looked over to you, Roy finally dropped you to the floor. He leaned in close to your face, surveying your eyes suddenly. This was a look you’d never seen from him; fear. Roy Kent wasn’t one to be afraid, but the way his eyes poured into your own had your chest crumpling beneath your skin. He was worried– he was frightened– for you.

“You ok?” he whispered.

You nodded quickly. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that to.” Your gaze moved over to Jamie in a heartbeat.

Roy stood up straight once more, puffing out his chest as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He started walking without warning, fists balled, towards the Richmond striker. Everyone held their breath, knowing that him and Jamie together were not a good combination. You, however, smiled to yourself without question.

When Roy reached Jamie, he wrapped his arms around him immediately. Coach and player hugged in silence, as the gravity of what Jamie’s father had just done stuck to every wall in the room. He needed this– hands on help, a real show of love and affection.

You were happy that Roy was the one to breach contact. That’s exactly what Jamie had needed.

“You ok?” Roy asked him, pulling away from the embrace.

Jamie breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s not me you should be thanking,” Roy muttered.

Both men turned back to face you. You held your wrist with care, not wanting to jolt your now fucked up hand. You smiled at the two of them knowingly, as everything settled back into place.

Behind you, Nathan Shelley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. On the way out of the locker room, he rushed past you harshly. You yelped to yourself as he pushed into you, jolting your wrist painfully. He stopped before you for just a second; he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Watch yourself there,” he said, in some kind of fake honey-toned pitch. Then, he turned on his heels and left the locker room as fast as he’d bumped into you.

Another threat. What a fucking joke.

Your face soured immediately, you couldn’t help it. Inside your head, you imagined a world where you’d told Roy all that Nate had put you through recently. You could see it clearly– his whole body would tense, his fists would ball, his nostrils would flare, and he’d yell I’ll show that little fucker!

Deeper within the indulgent part of your mind, he kissed you passionately before he went to confront Nate on your behalf. You swallowed quickly, trying to pat away those thoughts from the unexplored crevices of your mind. It was futile. Besides, you knew you still couldn’t tell Roy about Nate’s behaviour, for the sake of the team.

One day, rest assured, you would. When Nate left Richmond, or something else happened to change things around here, that’s when you’d lay it all out for him.

You were counting down the days.

“Hey,” Roy said, alerting you back into the room once more. Stood before you, he looked down at your hand. His brows furrowed. “Hm,” he growled gently.

“It’s fine,” you lied.

Softly, Roy laid his fingers atop your red knuckles. A sharp pain bombarded through your flesh instantly, forcing you to suck in a gasp. The pain spread to the rest of your hand, down your fingers, and twinged into your wrist. You couldn’t help it– you had to scream. “Motherfucker!”

“Just as I thought,” Roy said. “You’ve fractured the shit out of your hand.”

You squirmed on the spot, trying desperately to alleviate the pain you felt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rattled off, purely as a way to expel what you felt.

“Come on.” Roy bent down to the floor and picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the physio.” You hardly heard him, too focused on your hand. Roy gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “See you in a bit, lads!” he exclaimed to the room.

The two of you turned into the empty corridor ay Wembley, walking slowly as you tried to hold onto the last of your composure.

“God,” you hissed. “Why the fuck did I punch Jamie’s dad?”

“Because someone had to,” Roy replied. “And besides.” He glanced at you unknowingly, as you remained preoccupied on your self-inflicted injury. “It was fucking hot.”

You groaned immensely, dropping your head onto Roy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t fucking feel like it,” you whined. Roy couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh, believe me,” he said lowly, indulging in you being this close to him. “It was.”

Roy held you all the way to the physio. Secretly, he’d never been happier that you’d decided to be so reckless. Perhaps, he thought, he was rubbing off on you just as much as you’d changed him for the better.

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violetmuses · 2 months

Text

Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴❤️‍🩹🫂

Title: Safety Net - A. Aretas 🌴 ❤️‍🩹 🫂

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe

Character: Armando Aretas

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader

Main Storyline: When Armando Aretas leaves Mexico and faces Miami again, you change his life.

@nelo0wesker @nobodygetsza @yeahnohoneybye @sofia-da-1st @spaceacelover @btitannaaaaa

=====

Safety Net: Chapter 1

2024

The quiet departure from Mexico took so much planning, but Armando Aretas returned to Miami at last. Hiding would just stall reality this time.

His biological father, well-known Detective Mike Lowrey, pulled strings and “eased” the lifetime sentence, but Armando just needed more.

Waiting around between missions seemed pointless. If not useful, Armando might as well go back to prison and lock that damn cell forever.

Taking one rental car back to the small apartment from Lowrey, Armando didn't contact his father right away and took this much-needed shower before organizing just a few belongings here.

“I'm back.” Armando called Lowrey by the early afternoon.

“Hey, man. Really? Do you want me to pick you up from the airport?” Mike was a little surprised while answering the phone.

“Nah. Already settled here, but I'm just telling you.” Armando cleared his throat awkwardly

“You found the house? Cool. Glad you called me, too. Need anything?” Even Mike clipped words at this point.

“Maybe a side hustle?” Armando tried to frame the question easily. “I don't wanna stay around if you'll just call for work.”

“Right, I didn't think of that idea. My bad.” Mike almost whispered. “Let's see if I can help out a little bit.”

“Yeah, bye.” Armando hung up and left once more, hoping to run errands.

____

Many ran straight to the grocery store for various reasons, but Armando didn't need much, unlike other folks with children and more vacation plans.

Leaving the self-checkout, warm sunlight hit the parking lot as Armando reached that car and settled items, but one person caught his eye.

One door opens from another storefront in the shopping center.

“Thank you so much!” You beamed toward restaurant staff while carrying takeout and kept walking in the direction of your own vehicle.

To Armando, you looked cute and raved as sunlight heats up the state of Florida.

Though watching you from a distance, Armando found himself smiling in return, but pulled together and drove away, simply refusing to act weird.

Who are you? Aretas ponders during the commute back.

_____

Cooking and eating alone, gentle music played from his Bluetooth speaker. The device stood as his most expensive item beyond weapons or gear.

One call interrupted washing the dishes, but Armando picked up regardless.

“Hello?” Armando greeted the caller.

“Hey, it's me. Got something. Do you mind if we meet early tomorrow?” Mike Lowrey picked up this call again.

“No. What's going on?” The day would have Aretas occupied.

“This barbershop owner needs help.” Mike explained. “You'll get paid for basic upkeep over there. Nothing fancy.”

“Doesn't sound terrible.” Armando grounded his plans for the morning.

“Fair enough. See you tomorrow.” Mike ended the call this time.

Better than nothing. Armando thought, sleeping without dreams in preparation.

_____

“What's up?” Cruising with style, Mike Lowrey arrived while driving his classic Porsche the next day and greeted Aretas in this lot. “We'll meet that owner first.”

“Cool.” Armando repeated the note of his estranged father.

“How was your flight?” Mike tried offering small talk.

“Good. Still getting used to the house.” Armando told the truth.

“You'll be fine.” Mike went on. “My first place wasn't always dope.”

“Wait. Didn't you grow up with money?” Aretas squinted near his father. “That's what Marcus told me.”

“Well, yeah, but your mother knocked out riches. I stood undercover and worked as her driver before you were born.” Mike cleared his throat. “Let's go.”

____

“Morning, Detective.” The barbershop owner spoke up while addressing Mike Lowrey.

“Morning, Sir.” Mike offered respect to the older gentleman. “We shared our phone calls earlier, but this is my son Armando.”

“Hello.” Genuinely kind while speaking English, Aretas offered to shake hands with the owner right now.

“Heard about you, but we don’t have much time for questions. Let me show you around.” The older man continued speaking. Even Mike Lowrey stepped back, letting this moment between two different people for once.

Let him grow and learn. That’s the only way out of this problem. Lowrey thought, quietly watching his son understand this new environment.

_____

For Armando, three important rules grounded his place at the barbershop:

Aretas needed to show up every day now, arrive on time, and avoid drama. Constant structure keeps this guy from trouble in the first place.

Clients for the barbershop varied all week and Armando would remain observant every time someone opened that chiming front door.

Sooner than later, staff knew his name and everyone laughed sometimes, offering Aretas this comradery that didn't include heartbreak.

“Have you met Mike's partner yet?” One employee chuckled while cleaning his station.

“Marcus?” Sweeping, Armando immediately rolled his eyes and workers cracked up about Detective Marcus Burnett, Mike Lowrey's famous partner.

“Oh, no! Tell us.” The employee settled down and resumed working.

“I joined special operations at the police department, but this barbershop thing is a temporary job.” Armando played up his role a little bit. “One time, Marcus accidentally set our car on fire.”

“Woah!” Voices gasped through shock and even the owner tuned in.

“Marcus didn't know that windshield wiper fluid is flammable, so we jumped out right before everything burst into flames.” Aretas nearly cringed.

“Damn!” This story just pulled everyone's attention.

“We made it out alive, but moments like that really happen.” Armando shook his head and still cleaned when the front door chimed again.

“Hi! How's everybody doing?” One greeting brightened up the entire space. “I'm just here to bring Dad some lunch.”

You walked toward that barbershop owner with the biggest smile on your face, carrying takeout.

“Hey, Sweetheart. Thank you.” The owner gently raved while facing you, his daughter.

#safety net #armando aretas #slight angst #fluff #chapter 1 #armando aretas x reader #fanfiction #violetmuses #💜💜💜#jacob scipio #armando #bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #bad boys #movies

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕖 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 𝕟’𝕋𝕖𝕩𝕒𝕤 𝕕𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕞𝕤

𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟚

♡ 𓃗 ♡

Pre! Outbreak Joel x horseback riding instructor f!reader

A/N: I did not plan for this to be over 4k words. LOL enjoy ♡

~word count : 4.3k~

Summary: Joel Miller, single father; total soft dad has an astronomically enormous crush on you, his daughters horseback riding instructor.

Warnings: soft! Joel, shy! Joel, fluff, flirting, slow burn, eventual established relationship, single! Father Joel, protective! Joel, he’s so sweet your teeth will hurt! Joel, eventual smut, some angst, no y/n, +18 minors dni !

blue jeans playlist:

Austin, Texas

It was around 2:30 the next afternoon that Joel Miller had given you a ring. You were on your well deserved lunch break after Javi P put you through absolute hell. Why you thought it was going to be an easy hack session with him, was beyond you. Javi P never made anything easy, but you were determined to show this horse some good in his life. He’d been through hell in the racing industry, and it left a bad taste in your mouth just knowing how disposable he and his brother were to their old owners.

When your ringtone blared, you nearly lost hold of your sandwich as you grabbed your phone, answering it on the second ring.

“Hey darlin’ it’s Joel; Joel Miller. The uh–the guy who called ya yesterday about getting his daughter some ridin’ lessons?”

You honest to god thought it was fucking adorable that Joel even thought for a minute that you weren’t gonna remember him. You most definitely had not been thinking about this man all day after your phone call. No way, that definitely wasn’t you.

“Hey, Joel! I take it I left a good impression on you yesterday?”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he was parked in front of Sarah’s school, waiting for her. “Yeah, you uh–most definitely did. Anyway, i’m waitin’ to pick my daughter up and then we were gonna head over, if that still works for you?”

“Oh, perfect! Yeah, that still works for me! I’ll meet you out front when you get here, and then we’ll do the tour, sound good?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Just wanted to y’know check in and make sure that I wasn’t inconveniencing you or anythin’ like that.”

“Well, I appreciate you calling, but I hate to break it to you, I don’t do much around here for you to be inconveniencing me.”

“I’m sure that ain’t true. You seem to uh–really enjoy what you do, which is hard for a lot of folks to say. Don’t sell yourself short, and just from our conversation yesterday, can tell that you really care about the horses, even when you’re threatenin’ to turn one of ‘em into glue.”

You let out a light laugh, biting the tip of your nail because woo doggy, Joel Miller was a total fucking sweetheart in your books, and you still hadn’t met this man in person.

“Thanks, Joel. I appreciate you saying that. You’re not gonna let me live down the glue thing, huh?”

“Anytime, darlin’ and oh, no I will not be letting you live that one down.” He looked out the driver side window when he saw Sarah walking up and he reached over, unlocking the passenger side door for her. “Hey, Sarah just got outta school, S’okay that she’s not like in uh–proper ridin’ stuff?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine! Jeans and a t-shirt are the most comfortable option. We’ll get her fitted for a helmet as well, if you guys end up choosing our place that is.”

“Oh, sweet. Didn’t know if there was like a strict attire or anythin’ like that and I got a good feelin’ that we’re gonna be seein’ a lot more of each other.”

“Nah, we’re not like the hunter jumper barns. As long as she has closed-toed shoes, she’s good.” Your heart may or may not have skipped a beat when Joel Miller casually stated that he had a feeling you were going to see each other a lot more. Damn these southern charm Texas men.

“Alright, awesome. Pickin’ her up now, see ya in a bit!”

“See you in a bit, Joel!”

He hung up just as Sarah had climbed into the passenger seat and buckled herself in.

“Who were you on the phone with?” She took notice that her dad had a slight blush to his cheeks and she couldn’t help but grin and give him a little shoulder punch.

“Just got off the phone with your potential new ridin’ instructor. I think you’re really gonna like her, kiddo. She seems pretty cool.”

“You’re blushing dad, you know that? Right here!” She playfully poked his dimple.

“Am not! Just a little hot in here. Sweatin’ bullets.”

“Sureeeee it’s just the heat, you’re so right!”

He gave his daughter a playful warning look while he reached over and ruffled her head of curls.

“I ain’t blushin’ I don’t blush!”

“Okaaay dad, whatever you say!”

Joel Miller was not blushing. Like he said, he doesn’t blush. It was just the hot Texas air that had him feeling all flustered.

You quickly finished what was left of your sandwich, checking the time as you tidied up your desk. You grabbed your phone and slipped it back into your jeans pocket as you headed out of the makeshift office, and into the aisle way of the stalls.

“Listen up fellas, we have a potential new client coming through in about 20 minutes, and i’m expecting all of you to be on your very best behavior.” You looked directly at Javi P as you spoke. “Yeah bud, I'm talking to you specifically. We are NOT biting any kids today, alright?”

Javi P looked displeased, and if horses had hands, he would most definitely would be flipping you off right now.

You spent the next 20 minutes sweeping the aisle way, wanting everything to look presentable as possible. You heard the sound of truck tires under loose gravel and you just had a feeling it was Joel Miller.

“Alright boys, it's showtime!”

Sarah was telling her dad another horse fact from her book when they were getting out of his truck. “Dad, this one is super cool! Did you know that horse hooves are made from the same protein as human hair and fingernails? That’s one big finger nail!”

Joel had let out a laugh, his eyes crinkled up a bit in the corners as he shook his head. “Think that protein is called keratin? Sounds about right to me.”

“Keratin! Yeah, that’s what it's called!”

He observed the area then and took notice of the blooming flowers in the front of the stables, and the overall comforting vibe this place had. He could hear the familiar sound of a horse whinnying. The distinct barn smell didn’t even have him turning up his nose, and in a way, he found it oddly comforting.

His head turned in the direction of the door opening as you stepped outside. You were wearing light washed jeans that definitely were well worn, a loose graphic tee, Star Wars to be specific. The fabric was faded, but he could make out the image of two X-Wings. So, you were a nerd too, just another added bonus.

Your jeans were a bit dirty from your fall off of Javi P earlier, and you were certain that your hair probably looked insane, but Joel wasn’t expecting you to walk out in a mini skirt and stilettos, that was damn sure.

“Joel? Hey, nice to put a face to the name!” You held your hand out to him and he grasped it in his larger one. He had a firm grip, and his palms were well worn, a little calloused. Not that you were paying attention to those little details or anything.

He was undeniably handsome. A tall fucking glass of water, as you would describe him to your friends later over drinks. He had deep, warm, inviting brown eyes, a good structured jaw, and a killer smile. One that would definitely make any girl weak in the knees.

Joel already knew what you looked like from your bio on the website, but in person? You were even prettier. Joel had been so focused on his job, and caring for his daughter, that he never really saved any room for himself. He hadn’t gone on a proper date in god knows how long, but he just had a feeling that maybe you were gonna change that for him.

He smiled as you shook hands before he gestured to his daughter, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Hey, nice to meet ya! This is my daughter Sarah. Newly horse obsessed as you already know.”

Sarah swatted at her dad’s arm playfully and stuck her tongue out at him. “Dad, don’t embarrass me!”

You couldn't help but laugh as you watched their interaction. It was clear Joel and his daughter were very close. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about kiddo. I, too, am horse obsessed. Would even go as far to say that I am horse crazy.”

Sarah let out a huff, crossing her arms over her chest with a small smile. “Yeah, okay. Guess there is nothing to be embarrassed about. Horses are pretty freaking cool!”

You nodded. “They are super freaking cool! You guys wanna head in and I'll give you a tour?”

Sarah was already grabbing her dad’s hand as you led the dad daughter duo inside the main building.

“We’ve been in business for a little over a decade now. We’re family owned and a non-profit and all of the horses here were rescued from various situations. We focus heavily on good horsemanship skills, positivity and creating a safe, judgment free zone. We currently have 6 horses at our facility. All at different skill levels, but 5 out of the 6 are extremely beginner friendly.”

Joel had his hands shoved in his jean pockets as you spoke, he was attentively listening to everything you were saying.

“Did you rescue them all yourself?” He asked.

“Yep, every single one of them. Not all at once, but I'd get a tip from someone in the business about an upcoming auction, or abandoned barn, and I'd be there. I’ve traveled across the country for a couple of them, and I wish I could rescue every horse, but I do what I can y’know?”

“I understand. It’s great that you’ve given ‘em a second chance at life and a fresh start.”

You held the door open for them as you led them into the aisle way where the stalls were located. “Yeah, I agree with you. They deserve so much more than to just be thrown away like that. These boys are some of the luckier ones.”

All 6 of the horses had stuck their heads out of their stall doors to see who was coming and Sarah’s little heart was already melting.

“So like I was saying, we have 6 horses currently. Their names are Frankie, Dieter, Whiskey, Javi P, Javi G, and finally, Ezra.”

You brought them over to the first stall which was Frankies. He was a bay, tobiano paint. He had one blue eye, and one brown eye. You leaned against the side of his stall door as he peeked his head out over the side, nickering softly at you.

“This is Frankie, he’s our newest recruit. Just actually picked him up from Utah a little over a month ago.” You gave him a gentle pat on the neck. “He’s about 20 years old, in horse years and he’s a sweetheart. He was a little girl’s birthday present and he was well loved up until he spooked one day. She fell off and broke her arm and her parents deemed him to be ‘unsafe.’ He would have been on his way to Mexico if it wasn’t for me. I’m working on doing some desensitizing training with him as he doesn’t handle loud, sudden noises very well. He loves kids though.

Sarah frowned as she listened to you talk about Frankie and what would have almost happened to him.

“It wasn’t his fault that he spooked, right?”

“No kiddo. It’s never the horses fault and we gotta remember that their prey animals. If they feel like they’re in danger, or threatened, their natural instinct is to run.”

“Can I pet him?”

“Course you can. Here, he’ll love you forever if you give him one of these.” You reached into your pocket, pulling out a carrot and snapped it in half, handing her the one piece. “You’re gonna want to hold your hand out flat, tuck your thumb under your fingers cause you don’t want him accidentally biting them.”

Sarah nodded as she walked to his stall door, holding the carrot out to Frankie like you said and when he had licked her hand as he grabbed the carrot, she let out a soft giggle.

Joel had the softest fucking smile on his face just from seeing his baby girl happy like this.

“Next we have Dieter. This guy? He’s a little trickster and he’s pretty damn good at it. Loves to steal things out of your pockets if you’re not careful. I’ve caught him nearly escaping at least a dozen times. Had to really get creative with the locks on his stall. He used to be a lesson horse at a hunter jumper barn not far from here. The schooling shows really started to wear him down and they felt like he was useless after that.”

“Woah, he has a mohawk! That’s so cool! What kind of horse is he?” Sarah asked.

“He’s a Norwegian Fjord. He’s in between the size of a standard horse and a large pony. They typically have longer manes but due to the weather, we keep his trimmed so he doesn’t overheat. Plus, I think he enjoys having a mohawk, wouldn’t you say?”

Sarah didn’t hesitate to give Dieter a soft stroke on the side of his neck and she looked back at her dad with a small grin.

“I think he looks very punk rock, whad’ya think dad?”

“Very punk rock. He pulls it off pretty well I think.”

Whiskey, who’s stall was next to Dieter’s, was pawing impatiently at the ground.

“Ahh yes, good old Whiskey boy. He can be a bit of a handful at times, but he has a super smooth gait due to his breed.”

“When you talk about a horse's gait, are you uh–are you talkin’ about their movement? What makes him different from the rest?” Joel asked.

You looked over at him with a smile and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. Their gait is their natural movement. Whiskey is a Tennessee Walking Horse, and his natural gait differs between a flat walk, running walk, and a canter. He’s best suited for the trails and easy flat work. This guy was rescued from the ‘Big Lick’ industry. His gait is naturally high stepping but to enhance it for shows, trainers would use chains, heavy boots, and chemicals on his fetlocks in order to have him step higher. The practice is considered cruel, for obvious reasons, but people get away with it often. He went lame at one point and was thrown into auction.”

Joel had frowned as he listened to Whiskey’s story. It left a bad taste in his mouth that people could be so cruel to an animal like that.

“So, these guys really have been through hell, huh?”

“Unfortunately they have. Trust me, I get angry just thinking about what they went through.”

“Well, they’re certainly lucky that they have you, darlin. I like his coat color. That’s the proper term ain’t it?”

You almost felt a blush creep up your neck when he called you darlin again. At least you could blame it on the sweltering heat. Not because of Joel Miller and his smooth Texas drawl.

“Coat color is the correct term, yeah. He’s a dappled palomino. I call him honey sometimes because of his color, and because he’s as sweet as honey. A little bit of a flirt as well, a ladies man you might say.”

“He definitely gives off the ‘pretty’ boy vibes.” Joel said with a chuckle.

Before he, or Sarah could walk to the next stall, you put your arm out in front of them protectively, just as Javi P had lunged his head out, with his ears pinned back against his head, baring his teeth.

“I told him to be on his best behavior but I swear, this horse never listens.”

Joel was more focused on your soft grip on his bicep to even process the angry beast in front of them.

“Is this the horse you threatened to turn into glue yesterday?” Joel asked in a joking manner.

Sarah let out a shocked gasp.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I wasn’t actually gonna turn him into glue. He just isn’t the friendliest as you can see.” You gently released Joel’s bicep from your grip. “This is Javi P, he’s an OTTB, better known as an off the track thoroughbred. He was gonna make it big in Kentucky and would have sold for millions if it wasn’t for his accident. His jockey was well known for, to put it lightly, and please excuse my French, an asshole. This guy was too young to even be on the track. His bones weren’t even fully formed, nor able to withstand the pressure. He wiped out on a mud track a year ago, and knocked his jockey out. If they would have given him more time, and switched Jockey’s, he probably would have had a successful racing career.”

“I take it he doesn’t trust humans very well because of that? I mean, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“He’s incredibly weary of men especially. It’s really unfortunate because I know underneath all his meanness, there’s a really good horse. I’ve just been trying to chip away at his rough exterior, bit by bit. He threw me off earlier this morning, but it was my fault. Lost my footing in the stirrup and he flipped.”

“Jesus, are you alright?”

“Me? Oh, yeah I'm good. I’ve experienced a lot of falls in my life. Just comes with the job honestly.”

“Just about how many times have you fallen off? If ya don’t mind me askin’ that is.”

“Oh gosh, uhhh I'm not sure if I can count them on both hands. At least 20. Maybe a little less than 50. It happens but the main thing is, I've gotten back on everytime.”

“Woah, you’ve fallen off that many times and you aren’t scared or anything? Okay, my dad was totally right, you are so cool!”

Now you were actually feeling flustered, and Joel might have been as well but you couldn’t exactly tell. “I was definitely scared the first few times and I was afraid to get back on, but I pushed through it. What’s this about me being totally cool? Your dad is right on the money with that one, I am the coolest.”

Joel cleared his throat a little while he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright, I will admit that I told Sarah you were cool. I mean, you left an impression on me after our phone call, and you know so much about horses so yeah, I’d say you’re pretty cool.”

Sarah gave her dad a funny look then, only one that he could see.

“Is Javi G related to Javi P?” She asked, walking up to the other chestnut thoroughbred and he had lowered his head down towards her, brushing his soft, velvet nose against her palm.

“Yep, they’re brothers with totally opposite personalities. Javi G was let go because he was deemed to be too “sweet” for racing. He’s honestly a huge goober. If you give him kisses, he gives them right back.”

Sarah had given his nose a quick peck and he returned it against her palm, licking her hand.

“See? Told ya, he gives them right back!”

Sarah giggled as he licked her palm. “That tickles!” She wiped her wet palm on the side of her jeans. “I think I like him the most so far! Or Frankie, he was very sweet.”

“I think Whiskey is my favorite so far. I’m Jealous of how fantastic his hair looks.”

“Dad, it's not his hair, it's his mane!”

Joel held his hands up in defense with a small grin on his lips.

“Ohh, my bad for not gettin’ the term correct, my deepest apologies!”

“Yeah, Joel! Get with the program!” You chimed, your tone light and playful as you stopped at the last stall. Ezra was already nuzzling his nose into your shoulder, giving you an affectionate push.

“Oh, wow. He’s so pretty! It looks like he has a heart on his head, you see that dad?” Sarah pointed to the heart shaped star on Ezra’s forehead.

“Oh, yeah he does! Recognize him from the photo on the website.” ‘Yeah, the one that you have been staring at for the past 24 hours, Miller.’ He thought to himself.

“This is my boy, Ezra. He’s a 16 hand high Hanoverian and he was making it big in the hunter jumper world for a few years. He used to compete all through the country and was well on his way to competing in Europe.” You gave him a pat on his neck, pulled out the other half of the carrot and fed it to him. “Sometimes horses give you signs that they’re tired, that they don’t want to work anymore. Ezra was giving all those signs and his owner refused to see them until it was pretty much too late. He passed out during a show from exhaustion and being overworked. Now, he gets to live comfortably and he enjoys being ridden again.”

Joel could tell how much these horses truly meant to you, just by the way you spoke about all of them. He admired your passion for giving them a second chance at life. This just confirmed to him that he definitely would be seeing a lot more of you.

After the tour, Joel felt comfortable leaving Sarah to spend some time with Ezra while you and him talked over the logistics.

“I gotta say, you really sold this place for me darlin’ and I think Sarah would be absolutely lucky to be trained under you. Y’know I'm usually super critical over these things, for obvious reasons, but I trust you already and I know she’s in good hands.”

You were in disbelief as you walked alongside him.

“Really? Well, I gotta say, that's a relief. I got a little worried that maybe I was taking it too far with telling you guys about each of the horses stories but honestly, it's necessary. I can’t tell you how many potential clients have rolled through here and lasted maybe a day before switching to a hunter jumper barn. So I truly appreciate you saying that. I think Sarah is going to love it here, and I would be more than happy to be her instructor.”

“Honestly? I’m just relieved you didn’t try and sugar coat anythin’ I appreciate the fact that you didn’t try to make yourself, or this place sound like somethin’ it's not. If that makes any sense? You’re just, uh–very personable? I apologize if i’m oversteppin’ with ya darlin’ I don’t mean to ramble.”

You laughed as you looked over at him and nodded. “I totally understand what you’re trying to get at Joel. So basically, I’m not a snobby asshole that’s just in it for the money?”

“Well, that is one way to put it. I could also tell by your shirt that you weren’t gonna be the prissy type. Can’t stand those kinda girls honestly. You’re definitely in it for the horses, and the experience.”

You were feeling flustered by this man’s words, and there was no way you could hide it. “What about the shirt you gave me away? C’mon, I'm curious to know what your first impression of me really was.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it was the two X-Wings on your shirt? Just a simple observation. Gotta ask, what’s your favorite of the franchise thus far?”

“Damn X-Wings giving away all my deepest, darkest secrets. Oh man, probably the Empire Strikes back or Return of the Jedi. The new episodes have potential though. I do like the Pod racing in The Phantom Menace.”

“You walked right on into that one darlin,’ and those are pretty solid answers. Me personally? I like the Empire Strikes Back the most. Although, they’re all good.”

“I think I respect you just a tad bit more than I already did, Joel Miller.”

“Well, I must be doin’ somethin’ right huh?”

Oh, he has no idea.

“Anyway, let’s get you situated with the paperwork and figure out a good lesson schedule?”

Joel nodded and you left his side to go and grab the paper work, waiver and other forms along with a pen and after he signed everything, you went and retrieved Sarah, who was still loving on Ezra.

You stood just outside the door of the main building, waving to Joel and Sarah as he pulled out of the parking spot.

“Well, kiddo. Your first lesson this Saturday! Signed the paperwork and everything. You excited?”

Sarah looked over at her dad with a big smile as she buckled her seatbelt. “You like her, don’t you?”

Joel stumbled over his words as he looked over at his kid momentarily.

“Now what would make ya think that? Wait, was it that obvious? Shoot! You were not supposed to hear me say that. I don’t like your riding instructor sweet pea. I just think she is a cool person ,and she definitely knows her horse stuff.”

“I knew it! You do like her! Dad, you are terrible at making things not obvious! She’s like super pretty so I totally get it! I am going to tell uncle Tommy that you have a crush!” She giggled.

“Sarah–honey, are you feelin alright? The sun isn’t gettin’ to ya is it?” He looked absolutely mortified when she said that she was going to tell his brother. “Absolutely not, you do not speak of this to uncle Tommy, ever! I ain’t got a silly little crush, kiddo. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t say anything to uncle Tommy. I pinky promise! You do have a crush though dad. It’s okay, your secret is safe with me!” She held her pinky out to him.

“I ain’t got a crush. Silly talk, sweet pea. That’s all I'm hearin’ right now.” He linked his pinky with hers.

Alright, so Joel maybe had a teeny tiny crush on his daughter’s horseback riding instructor. Just a small innocent crush that would never turn into anything..right?

Part 3:

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katsu28 · 1 year

Note

Hi!! May I request a Roy Kent x Fem!reader with the Alstroemeria prompt as well as the “saying I love you in between kisses” from the physical intimacy prompts? Please & thank you!! 🤗

thank you so much for requesting and for allowing me my first attempt at writing roy! <3

alstroemeria: going to an event that the other person is interested in just to see them happy + saying i love you in between kisses, roy kent x fem!reader, swearing ofc (it's roy, what did we expect), 1.2k

Roy Kent had never looked as out of place somewhere as he did right now. Broad and tall, covered head to toe in black leather and denim, scowling at the world around him like he’d been personally wronged by it, he proved a stark contrast to the quaint little farmers’ market you'd dragged him to.

The market itself had been popping up near your place every weekend and you’d been hinting at wanting to go with Roy, but he never wanted to. Going by yourself was always a choice, but there was something about roaming the cobbled streets browsing for fruits and veggies and other cute trinkets with your lovely (albeit perpetually grumpy) boyfriend that just seemed so…domestic.

You’d recently moved in together and this was the perfect way to jumpstart your lives with each other. Maybe you’d get some fun knick knacks for your shelves, or a painting for your walls.

He’d said no to going the first few times, but once he caught sight of your sad little frown he caved instantly, promising the two of you would go this coming Saturday. That was today, and you were beyond excited.

You made sure to get there early so you could have the best pick of everything, and to avoid the crowd—another reason you suspected Roy kept turning down your invitations. He was a private guy, so purposely going someplace where he would be recognized almost immediately wasn’t really his cup of tea. Most Richmond fans were fine, but with social media nowadays, some always meant more, and more often than not that always led to the two of you being swarmed and having to go home before you could do whatever you’d left the house for.

But until that happened, you could just enjoy this time you had with your boyfriend, walking hand in hand through the area. Rows and rows of stalls with fresh fruits and veggies, bunches of flowers bursting with vibrant colors, baked goods alongside jars of jams and honey. It was overwhelming in the best possible way. You didn’t know where to start, so you went everywhere, milling around aimlessly, perusing the tables and chatting with folks along the way.

Roy grunted his approval at some things, raising a brow at others that had you putting it down. If he really liked it, he would nod, and you picked up a little something. Ingredients for this week’s dinners, a still warm loaf of crusty sourdough with a jar of orange marmalade to go with that you were looking forward to enjoying when you got home, a beautiful set of handmade earrings for Keeley’s upcoming birthday—even a mug with a coffee pun on the side of it for Ted that Roy snorted at.

Had you been paying a little bit more attention to Roy, you would've seen him almost, almost smiling as he watched you scurry from tent to tent to explore. You were enjoying yourself, and that was all he could ever ask for.

You were less than halfway through the market when you spotted the cutest little flower tent off to the side.

“Roy, look! Flowers!” You exclaimed, practically skipping over to one stand with the prettiest arrangements you’d ever seen. Roy trailed behind you like a stoic shadow, looking half nauseated by the bright colors.

Wandering a little further into the tent, you grew more and more in awe at the sheer beauty of each bundle of flowers. They were perfect, each bud and leaf handpicked to create a masterpiece, but one bunch in particular caught your eye.

Gorgeous pale pink alstroemeria surrounded by hyacinth in the lightest of yellows, tiny daisies paired with another tiny white flower you didn’t recognize dotting the dark green leaves. It was a simple arrangement, but still beautiful in an effortless kind of way.

You’d never been more obsessed with anything in your life (except for maybe Roy).

“They’re nice.” He observed with a sharp nod, but he was more focused on the way your face had lit up when you’d spotted the flowers.

You turned to him, beaming. “Should we get some? We can put them on the table in the breakfast nook, maybe brighten up the place a little bit.”

“Brighten up the place? There’s a window, I think it’s fucking bright enough.” He grumbled, but he just looked mildly amused. “Besides, I have allergies.”

“Yeah, to rabbits, not flowers.” You reasoned, giving him a teasing nudge with your elbow.

“Same fucking thing!”

“It’s really not.”

You ended up leaving the tent without the flowers, opting to forgo them in favor of possibly picking up some other things whilst you continued your market explorations. You’d been a little sad, but Roy kissed your temple and laced his fingers through yours and everything was fine again. They were just flowers after all.

Roy stopped in his tracks a few stands later, digging his buzzing phone out of his pocket. “You go ahead, I’ve gotta take this call. It’s Ted.”

You hummed in agreement, giving his hand a squeeze before moving to walk ahead. “Tell Ted I said cheers!” Roy grunted again, stepping off to the side to speak in hushed tones.

As a result of leaving Roy to his own devices, you actually lost him for a while, but you assumed your grump of a boyfriend would find his way back to you eventually. He always found you. You stopped for a second to readjust the produce in your tote, and when you looked up there he was, wading through the crowd a head above the rest, searching for you with a bouquet of the flowers you’d been eyeing earlier clutched in his fist.

He reached you quickly, thrusting the flowers out towards you. “For brightness in the fucking breakfast nook.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“They made you happy.”

“You’re just a big softie, aren’t you, Roy Kent?” You were all smiles again, reaching out to pat his stubbled cheek.

Roy rolled his eyes, but there was still a whisper of a smile gracing his lips. “Yeah, yeah, don’t fucking tell anyone.”

You stifled a giggle, grabbing him by the front of his jacket and pulling him in for a kiss. His free hand instantly came up to loop around your waist, thumbing at the strip of bare skin between your shirt and jeans.

“I love you,” You mumbled against his lips, pulling back for just a second to admire his softened features. The hard line of his brow was relaxed for once, his usual angry scowl nowhere to be found. He was looking down at you like the two of you were the only ones in the world right now, already leaning back in for another kiss that you gladly went along with, sliding your hand around the back of his neck. “God, I fucking love you. You’re perfect. How are you so perfect?”

“Could be asking you the same fucking thing, can’t I?” He grumbled, looking a tad annoyed that you’d suddenly grown talkative in the middle of a makeout sesh. Part of you felt guilty because Roy didn’t usually enjoy this much PDA when you were out and about, so maybe you should’ve been taking advantage of it.

“I asked first.”

“I’m not perfect. But I love you, and that seems pretty fucking perfect to me.”

“Who are you and what’ve you done with the real Roy Kent?” You gasped playfully, drawing yet another eye roll from him. He kissed you one more time for good measure, short and sweet, before easing the heavy tote from your shoulder and hiking it onto his.

“Let’s fucking go home now. I wanna try some of that bread you got earlier while it’s still fresh.”

“And so you can pick out the biggest piece from the middle? Fucking heathen.”

“I’m the heathen? You like the fucking ends! Who the fuck likes eating the bread’s ass?”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x y/n #roy kent x you #roy kent fluff #roy kent one shot #roy kent imagine #roy kent fic #ted lasso

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twig-tea · 2 months

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Getting feelings about Cher in Wandee Goodday Ep 10 Off My Chest

I know that there's a million other things airing right now, but I couldn't stop thinking about this, so. Fair warning that I'm going to be talking negatively about Wandee Goodday in this post. I have been thinking a lot about Cher, and in particular how Cher's place in the story has changed from the start of the show to now (as of ep10).

When the series started, I was so excited about what it was doing with Oyei and Cher, and with Cher in particular. Yei and Cher were an established couple functioning as semi-parental figures for Yak. They were open about their relationship with Yak, and showed affection in front of him. They had good communication, they were mutually supportive, and they felt balanced--Cher was clearly an established and important presence at the gym, making business decisions. He had a distinct relationship with Yak that was separate and distinct from Yak's relationship with Yei. Even though he was a side character, and characterized as a bottom/uke in terms of stereotypical presentation, in the first few episodes it was clear that he was a core part of the story. And while he was hesitant about affection at the gym, the story was clear that he desired and enjoyed sex with Yei and missed it when they went without. In other words, he presented in a stereotypical character archetype way, but his character was being used in the story in ways that stretched beyond that stereotype, and I loved it.

But in this last episode [which had other problems, but other folks have talked about rushing through the family trauma narrative (e.g. this post by @pigglepiephi and this one by @lurkingshan) so I won't re-tread], Cher has been pushed to the background and his agency removed. Just in the last episode, there was a moment where Sasaki asked to join the Phadetseuk gym and Yei and Yak turned to Cher for his nod before agreeing. That was a great moment validating Cher's role in the lives of these men! In this episode, in contrast, in ep10 Yei and Yak make decisions about the fight match-ups and only ask Cher to validate their position rather than ask for his opinion or rely on his expertise. Similarly, in an earlier episode, when Yak and Yei could not agree on something, Cher had them fight it out in the ring and explained calmly to Dee that this was the way these two always got through disagreements. In this episode, Cher seemed to stand worriedly by while their estranged father had the relationship-bridging idea to have them exchange punches instead. While at the start of the series Cher offered to borrow from his parents if necessary and this was dismissed as an unacceptable solution, in this episode Yei's estranged father's new wife is offering a deed to be able to secure a loan against it and apparently this is fine.

Once all is revealed, even though Cher has been insisting that Yei keep him in the loop on their financial situation, has been trying to help solve this problem with e.g. selling one on one training sessions and livestreams of the fights, and has just found out that his home and livelihood has been threatened because his partner made decisions without him and refused his help, he isn't given any time to emotionally react at all to this news or this situation.

Instead, he has a high heat moment with Yei (which, don't get me wrong, was the best part of the episode). And yes, he was also included in the family photos with Dee [...don't get me started on Dee being in the family photo but still insisting they're not dating, I cannot], but that felt so perfunctory compared to the actual agency and contributions that other characters had this episode, all of which were things his character was perfectly set up to have and which were written not to have in this episode. It feels like Cher's characterization was sacrificed for the sake of justifying the family reunion.

This is really a micro-example of what's so grating for me about this show as a whole. The elements are here for an incredible show, I can almost taste it. But it's not the show we're getting. What we're getting is a vehicle for specific moments, whether or not they make sense in the context of the story as a whole. And in the case of Cher's character, it's particularly frustrating because at the start of the show his characterization broke the mould, but by ep10 he's squeezed right back into it. And his relationship with Yei has gone from mutual respect and equal partnership to the more typical heterosexual role split reinforced and validated by the narrative. I'm disappointed.

#wandee goodday #bl meta #typed so that i can stop thinking it

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sehtoast · 3 months

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Tender Threads CH2 ( Homelander x OC )

chapter two: signed and sealed

chapter directory | slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, spidersona as original character, original trans male character, smut, sublander

summary: benjamin knows full well he's out there, watching and waiting, even doing a little breaking and entering. homelander is simply biding his time until he gets his way.

Benjamin’s personal life had always been a simple one. With little to no time to truly be, there wasn’t much drama to get mixed up in– well, there used to be. Back when he tried to have the best of both worlds, there was… a lot. Failed relationships, friends walking out on him, family shunning him for his absences, unreliability, and perceived short temper that was truly just pure exhaustion. It was one hell of a cocktail, but sometimes the loneliness was worse. It was hard to see the few people who still talked to him, and harder still to make time to call his folks, but somehow those relationships survived.

Worse yet was his track record with jobs. Delivery boy was optimal given his particular skill set, but showing up on time with every little disturbance was beyond difficult. Table waiting jobs were even worse, and he’d lost a fair few. These days he supplements income with side photography while primarily working an IT job at a small tech firm that he probably wouldn’t have gotten without a friend putting in a good word.

Moving to New York with his best friend from college was a decision he wouldn’t undo, but it wasn’t without its strife. If not for his friend, good ol’ Jason Ortega, Ben would’ve fallen through the cracks so many times. Eventually they split from their cozy roommate situation after Jase got a girlfriend, but there were no hard feelings. In fact, he was the only person in the world who knew about Ben’s little secret.

The two worlds of Benjamin's life were starting to collide bit by bit.

“You met Homelander!"

“Shh! Not so loud!” Ben stresses, eyes wide. They’re on their first coinciding lunch break in a while, and they'd decided to pop a few blocks down to a sub shop for their first hangout in damn near three weeks. “Yeah, just–”

“And you worked with him, right?” Jason asks, leaning forward eagerly, food all but totally forgotten. “That’s what all the articles are saying.”

“No, I–” Benjamin releases a heavy sigh. He knows about those. It’d been two weeks since Homelander propositioned him, and… well.

It had been an interesting two weeks.

“It wasn’t like that.” Ben says, mind wandering back…

Bodega Burglary Botched! Spidey and Homelander Team Up, had been Vought News Network’s big headline of the day the morning after the confrontation in the alley. Ben pretty much choked on his bowl of Maeve-O’s when the segment ran on his TV.

“Boy, I’ll tell ya,” Homelander said, smiling perfectly for the camera. “That Spider-Man is exactly what we need in The Seven. After last night, I really do see why people say he looks out for the little guy.”

Ben must have looked quite the sight standing there in his boxers, spoon dangling from his mouth. Did he have bedhead or was his hair just showing how absolutely fucking insane he felt in the moment?

“I can’t think of anyone better to fill Translucent’s shoes. So, Spidey, if you’re seeing this: you’ve got my vote buddy!”

“You mother fucker…” Ben murmured. This was a power play unlike anything he could’ve imagined. This wasn’t just for PR– though it definitely was. This was a way to turn the public onto the idea. To make sure the wall crawler would be reminded of the offer everywhere he went.

Which is precisely what happened. And now it was happening in his personal life, which was even worse. Not that Jase knew the fine details of what had happened, but…

“Man, Vought’s been hounding me for a while now.” He explains. “And now they sent the big dog.”

Ben takes a moment, voice hushed, to tell Jason about all that had happened. About how intimidating the whole thing was, how Homelander practically looked right through him, how he fucking name-dropped him despite every length the bug has gone to keep his identity a secret.

“You wanna know what else?” Ben asks, glancing from side to side. “I think he’s fucking stalking me.”

“Dude…”

“Yeah, so get this…”

He spares no details.

It started off small. Simple fly-by’s, flickers of red, white, and blue in the sky zipping by at the most random of times. At first, it seemed like something weird in his peripherals, but then Benjamin learned to look up. He made eye contact three days after first noticing his stalker while walking into work, and he’s not sure if that made Homelander more bold but he definitely did get worse.

Benjamin could’ve coped with the stalking. In fact, he was almost getting used to it, but then he went for the newly bought jug of milk in the fridge and found the seal cracked and roughly a quarter of the contents missing.

The lack of cup in the sink had him pouring the contents down the drain because that bastard clearly drank from the jug. After that, subtlety went clear out the fucking door.

Ben’s apartment isn’t the neatest thing on planet Earth, but he prides himself on keeping up with his laundry. His closet was organized, shoes kicked into a slobbishly-neat pile in said closet, and his underwear drawer was folded to perfection.

So why in the world were his boxer briefs unrolled from their tight, military-esque fold? Why is his acoustic guitar on the stand where the electric normally sits?

And why the fuck is the bed he made that morning now unmade and very obviously laid in?

Homelander had crossed a line. This wasn't just some light stalking and intimidation, this was a Goldy Locks level violation of his privacy and space, and Ben didn’t know if it was going to end up so bad someday that he'd wake up to the fucker standing in the corner like some patriotic version of the hat man.

“And it’s still happening,” he tells Jason. His best friend stares at him wide eyed with his mouth parted in disbelief.

“Man, I hope you changed your toothbrush…” He says.

“Fuck… No, but I will later, I–”

A ringing from Jason’s phone breaks their banter and signals the end of their break. Ben takes the opportunity to grab his own phone and type a message to him. Eyes up when we leave. Don’t react to this.

They pay and leave. Sure as the sun rises in the morning, on the edge of the roof across the street stands Homelander, who smirks down at them, clearly having used that super hearing of his to listen in.

“Woah…” Jase utters.

Ben simply keeps his eyes up, watching closely as the star spangled supe gives an informal salute and takes off.

“Dude…” Jason says. “That’s fucked.”

Yeah, Ben thinks to himself. I’m fucked.

By the end of the third week, Ben’s absolutely had it. He can feel Homelander’s eyes piercing through the walls of his apartment building. In fact, Benjamin knows right where he’s sitting. He’d been laying in bed relaxing before his usual run through the city.

He hates to admit it, but… he’s given some thought to the offer. Moral objections aside, he could make a real difference at Vought. Plus, there’s the opportunity to try to change it from the inside out. Maybe leak some information here or there…

Nothing he’s vocalized, of course. He’d never risk Homelander hearing something and come barreling through the wall to laser him in two for even considering it.

But enough was enough. These little interferences in his life weren’t going to stop, it seemed, unless he did something about it. Ben swings his legs off the side of the bed and stares down at where his suit lays in a pile on the floor. There was no sense in even putting the fucking mask on. Homelander can see through it anyway. He knows who he is, where he lives… The jig is up as far as secrecy with Homelander goes, if there was even any to begin with.

Ben walks to the window and peers out. Just as he predicted, Homelander is stood on the building across the street, looking almost amused at the bug’s knowledge of his location.

“Get over here,” Ben says. He knows Homelander can hear it. “For once, you’re being invited inside.” With that, he opens the window.

What the fuck am I doing, Ben thinks to himself. Fuck, I should’ve gone out, not let him in. Fuck, fuck fuck…

It’s a curious thing to watch Homelander float through the window perfectly horizontal. It never occurred to Ben that flying supes could do that so easily…

“Benjamin,” Homelander greets. “Nice of you to finally extend the offer.”

The bug plops down on the edge of his bed, gesturing to his desk chair for Homelander to sit. It’s almost comedic to watch him swish his cape out of the way to do so.

“Y’know, I can cope with you stalking me,” Ben says, getting right to the point. “But rifling through my drawers is overdoing it.”

Homelander smiles, and it��s almost scary to see him so close in such an intimate environment. Outside, he’s practically god. In here he’s… scary in a different way. Especially when Ben notices just how sharp his canines are.

“Couldn’t help it, Benny. Besides, you’ve got some interesting things.” Homelander turns in the chair just slightly to rap his gloved knuckles against the top drawer of Ben’s nightstand. “Especially in here, you dirty boy.”

Ben’s cheeks flare red immediately. Fuck, he hadn’t even considered–

“You are interesting, I’ll tell ya.” Homelander continues. “You’re so fucking ordinary, and yet you’re about to be in The Seven. Nothin’ to you besides that do-good moral compass of yours and some spandex.”

“What do you mean, ‘about to,’” Ben asks incredulously. “I haven’t agreed to anything.”

Homelander gives him a smile so sinister that it practically takes a bite out of his resolve. “Oh, I know. But you’re going to once we’re done here, trust me.”

Ben cocks a brow. “... explain.”

“Not yet.”

Homelander leans to the side and snags one of those guitars he was clearly very familiar with. “You’re a peculiar little thing, you know that?” He says, finger plucking awkwardly at a nylon string that damn near snaps under his strength. It makes Ben cringe a little. “You’re so full of anxiety I can practically smell it on you, but you still have the balls to tell me no. You’re pretty much a shut in as...” Homelander gestures vaguely to Ben to describe his secret identity. “But then you’re such a social butterfly. Thought you might’ve just had a thing for being stared at in spandex, but you’re quite the little ray of sunshine in the leotard.”

“I–”

Homelander holds up a finger.

“And you’re so fucking sad, little Benjamin.”

What..?

“You’re lonely. Just that one buddy of yours and that strained relationship with good ol’ mom and dad… plus that cousin or whatever the boy is.” Homelander plucks the lowest string, a deep open note reverberating through the body of the instrument. “But you’re so sad, crying at night like you do.”

But I haven’t–

“I can tell what you’re thinking… You haven’t had a bad night in a few weeks.” Homelander says nonchalantly. “What, you think I wasn’t scoping you out before that night in the alley? Please. I know you down to the fucking lube you use at this rate.”

“What the f–”

“Astroglide, by the way.” He says, wiggling his brows. “You want that spider-high you get when you’re swinging around to be permanent? Quit your little desk job, stop being a pussy, and join my team. Go have time to live your personal life– I don’t fucking care– just do the right thing.”

Ben’s gaze falls and he picks at his fingers. Fucker found the sore spot and was using it to his full advantage.

“Don’t look so sad, Benny boy. I’m offering you the relief you’ve been looking for, aren’t I?” Homelander smiles almost genuinely. “So exhausted all the time, too. When was the last time you got eight hours, huh? I’ve seen the way that little tingle in your head wakes you up all the time. Plus all those late nights… you must be so burnt out.”

“Shut up…” Ben tries, but it comes out more sad than he means for it to. He hates how fucking right Homelander is.

“Friends, family, rest… No more rent struggles…” Homelander sets the instrument down and turns toward Ben. “You know what else?” He asks, voice almost sweet. When Ben looks at him, he grins. “Ma and Pa will thank you when I don’t drop an oil tanker on them from orbit.”

Ben’s blood runs cold.

“Yeah, I flew by a day ago. Nice little suburban house in Annville, right? Pops has a nice red truck.”

No, no, no– fuck–

“Be a shame if they had to suffer because of you, wouldn’t it?”

Benjamin sits stock still, his only movements being shakes of fear and anger. How fucking dare he? How dare he hold something so–

“Like I said, you will be joining The Seven. And, if you do, no harm will come to mom and pop– I promise.”

He knows he has no choice now.

“So, little Benjamin,” Homelander says, rising from the chair. “What’ll it be?”

As if he has any choice.

“Fine…”

“Oh,” Homelander cocks a brow. “What was that? I think I need you to be a little louder.”

“Fine,” Ben says, more conviction in his voice this time.

“Say it. The whole thing.” Homelander demands, smile growing even wider. “You’re gonna join The Seven.”

“I’m…” Ben sighs. “I’m going to join The Seven.”

“Attaboy!” Homelander chirps, clapping his gloved hands together. “Alright, buddy, get some shoes on and let's get you to the tower for your big signing day! Did I mention you get a sign-on bonus? Pretty killer, right?”

Dejectedly, Ben stands from the bed and slips his shoes on.

He supposes he’ll be signing his contract in his pajamas.

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader #the boys #antony starr #tender threads #the benlander agenda #the boys tv

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 9 months

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AITA for kicking my little brother out after a fight?

yes, the title is catching, so bare with me please.

my family and I (19NB) live like cottage core folks. we have separate sheds here and there that are modified to be tiny houses, whilst there are actually 3 houses placed and modified on our land. I switched many houses to find the most comfortable one, and that I have. Our aunt (M, dunno her age) is visiting us currently, and because we have no proper space for her to sleep, she's sleeping with my mother (R, mid 50s) as her husband (C, late 50s - early 60s) is forced to sleep at my house for the time being. There are many reasons as to why I'm uncomfy with this choice, a lot of them are personal, but one that stands out the most is that I'm uncomfortable with sleeping together with other folks, unless I trust them the most. I took some of my belongings to another house, along with one of the wifi motors we use (we have two) and tried to sleep in a house that my brother (N, 18) occasionally visits to cook his food. The first night was doing fine, until the second night kind of got worse, and where I would be called the asshole.

N has level 3 autism, as I have level 2. he doesn't understand not like change, and so do I. I was invading his space where he should be cooking, yet I try not to get into the middle of his process. he noticed I slept there now and decided to force me to cook for him, and I simply calmly told him he could do it himself. that part, I know he can understand, but he chooses not to do so for some benign reason. after trying to bother me several times, he decided to grab my stuff and use them without my knowledge, which quickly made me furious and aggressively told him to get back to whatever he's doing. that wasn't the right thing to do, admittedly, which resulted to throwing a Yeti stainless cup at my head and computer. that was where I drew the line entirely and have forcefully kicked him out of the house where he was cooking, all because he wanted to be rude and abusive towards me.

I called C to handle him momentarily as N was beating on the windows and yelling bloody murder, we were lucky that we didn't live in an urban neighborhood. C accused me for starting all of it when I calmly explained what was happening, and he kindly took it and left me be. on the other hand, R barged in and yelled at me for 1. taking the wifi motor to another house and 2. kicking N out. I was already exhausted and told her the same thing that happened, yet she refused to listen and still has blamed me for the troubles that happened. I told her why I was here, that was not relevant for her at all. I told her I needed space and a place to sleep since the other houses were not best suited for me, that was not relevant either as she looked at me stupid since her two options were let C sleep in her house with M and have R sleep in her car, or have C sleep at my house whilst M and R continue their shenanigans late at night.

not that this is too relevant, but to add damage to the situation is that this has been an occurring thing with how R treats N and I, with no little respect or freedom at all. every boundary that has been established has been either bent far beyond repair or blatantly crossed and ignored selfishly. This is not the first time she's acted this way towards us, and will probably never be her last. Instead of working through the situations that are brought up, she refuses to take accountability and let everything fall into her own hands, which never really works out at the end for everyone.

After the argument, I slept at an old house that was completely trashed, absolutely stunk, and did not feel comfortable at all. I do not have enough spoons to handle this on my own, and I refuse to help my family through the mess to avoid unnecessary consulting and other comments.

I will admit fault about not thinking through this situation, but I still need an opinion on this.

AITA for kicking my brother out for throwing a cup at my head? AITA for trying to find a place to sleep peacefully at my own comfort place?

(paws, in case something happens)

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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geddy-leesbian · 6 months

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a while back @highball66 made a post about Leon being a nerd that would probably play MTG, and apparently the concept got lodged in my brain so here's a drabble of Leon and Luis meeting at an MTG prerelease because those two are def nerds like that

I had their twink era RE2 era in mind when writing this, but not sure how much it actually matters

Leon had been apprehensive about coming here, expecting the crowd to be the stereotypical basement dwellers with noticeably bad hygiene. But he still came, because he's brand new to this city and didn't know anyone, or have any other ideas for how to meet people. Well, that's not entirely true. He knows some people, his coworkers. The problem is just that his naive belief that cops are morally upstanding folks that help people has been shattered beyond repair, and he has zero desire to spend any time with them outside of work. (He doesn't want to go to work with them either, but he has to, until he gets another job lined up.)

So it wasn't like Leon had anything to lose coming here, just a faint possibility to gain something.

There were a few of the basement dwellers Leon expected, but there was also something he absolutely did not expect: A very gorgeous man with tan skin, soft gray eyes, and a smile that's just about blinding. He's sitting across the room, and Leon keeps stealing glances at him. He’s clearly very experienced, with how fast he sorts his cards into his piles. Leon looks down at his own cards to sort and when he looks back up the man is already done with his own deck, counting to make sure he had the right amount, quickly sleeving it, and then scooping up the cards he wasn't playing to put them away.

He stands up and starts striding across the room, and Leon has to make a conscious effort to not stare and drool at the man. He's taller than Leon thought. He's got long, lean legs and the most perfect hips Leon has ever seen. And then somehow he's talking to Leon.

“Mind if I sit here?” He has an accent. It's hot. Leon had set his bag on the chair next to him, but moves it so the ridiculously hot stranger can take a seat. “This is your first time coming here? First time playing..?”

“Do I stick out that bad?”

“Not really. It's just that I know I would have recognized you if you'd been here before. I could never forget such a pretty face,” Did this guy seriously just call Leon pretty? In a warm, genuine tone, like it's actually a compliment? Leon is quite used to comments like that, but in a derogatory manner. "Compliments" hurled at him in mocking tones. “But I will admit, you do look a little lost. Do you want help building your deck?”

“Yeah, sure. I've played before, back in high school, but never made any decks. Just played with decks my friends would let me borrow. I wanted to have my own, but my foster parents thought the game was basically devil worship and would've been dragging my ass to the pastor if they ever found cards under their roof.”

Leon worries that might have been a little too personal too fast, but he's not sure Tall Hot Guy was even listening. He doesn't say anything, and seems laser focused on Leon's cards.

“Off to a good start, with your sorting,” In the time Tall Hot Guy made a deck, all Leon managed to do was open all his packs and sort them by color. Tall Hot Guy starts going through the piles, picking out some cards to set aside. “Prereleases are good for beginners. New cards, new mechanics, so even people with experience won't know everything. Besides, you're not even the only new player here. Now, I think you have enough for mono red, so we keep it simple and do that, if there isn't anything else you'd rather do?”

“That's fine, whatever you think is good. You're the expert.”

The “help” is less help and more just him doing everything. But he does talk as he goes through cards and starts laying them out. Leon is fine with the situation.

“Mana curve, it's important. This is your deck laid out from lowest to highest mana cost,” So there is a method to the madness. He figured there was a reason they were laid out the way they were, but hadn't figured it out. “You want variety, because you want to be doing things every turn. You need big win condition cards, but you don't want to just be sitting by idly waiting several turns to get enough mana for them, you need small things too. Of course you can get unlucky enough to not draw your lower cards early, but at least the odds are better if you have a good mix of low and high cards.”

Tall Hot Guy finishes the spells in Leon's deck and gets up to fetch the basic lands it will need from the shop's communal land station, and grabs something out of his bag too. He needs to stop standing up, because every time Leon really struggles to not ogle him. Curse those stupid skintight jeans.

Leon puts away the unused cards, except for one stack Tall Hot Guy made for reasons Leon really can't figure out. It seems so random, cards from every color.

“Hey, what's this stack of cards next to the deck?”

“Oh, those are just cards that I think will maybe be worth something,” After putting the lands on top of Leon’s deck, Tall Hot Guy starts putting the other stack in card sleeves. “These are extra sleeves you can have, to keep these in good shape in case you do want to sell them at some point.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?”

“I've already told you that you have a pretty face, right? I'm a sucker for a pretty face. I want you to have fun playing here, so you come back. Now, let me give you some pointers on what your deck wants to do!”

Leon hadn't expected this guy to actually stay and keep talking. He said Leon wasn't the only new player, so he figured once he got Leon's deck together he'd go over and help out the other newbies. But no. The only thing that Tall Hot Guy seems interested in is just talking Leon's ear off. This isn't a general newbie thing, there's something about Leon specifically. He barely absorbs a word he's saying, he's too busy staring at his stupid perfect face and messy curly hair he wants to touch.

Leon jumps up the second a game store employee calls out that deck building time is up and pairings are ready, because he really needs to get the hell away from this guy that's making him feel things his recent ex-girlfriend never could. He gets a slip of paper with his name and the name of his opponent: Dr. Lewis Serra. He looks around, totally lost, because he doesn't know anyone. Of course, Tall Hot Guy approaches him again.

“Do you need help finding your opponent?”

“First my deck, now helping me find someone, you're a real knight in shining armor, aren't you?” Was that flirty? Doesn't knight in shining armor usually have some romantic connotations? Did Leon actually just flirt with this guy? He's pretty sure he did. Christ. “You know who, uh, Dr. Lewis Serra is?”

“You're looking at him. Your knight just so happens to be your first opponent too. Guess it's just you and me, pretty boy,” The words make Leon's face heat up, but thankfully Lewis turns his back to Leon quickly, to lead him to a table. He just hopes and prays the blushing will have subsided before he sits down and faces Lewis. “By the way, the name is actually Luis Serra. The name on the slip is a stupid nickname that just won't die.”

“There a story behind it?”

“I suppose, depending on how you want to define story. Some idiot I played once thought that my name was pronounced like Lewis, and everyone else thought it was really funny. That's it. Like I said, stupid.”

“What about the Dr. part?”

“Oh, that, ah, that actually isn't a nickname. To toot my own horn, I was a real child prodigy. I got my PhD in biology when I was 16,” Oh great. This guy is tall, hot, and insanely smart. Be still Leon's beating heart. “Normally I'm humble and never introduce myself with the title, I don't want to seem pretentious. And I like to keep my work and personal life separate. It being on the slip is not my choice. I've asked them to stop putting it here, but of course they just think it's funny that it annoys me!”

“Well, there are worse nicknames. My coworkers call me Leon Stupid Kennedy.”

“Wow. Okay. You win, yanqui, I have no right to complain about being Dr. Lewis,” Luis lifts his life die up. “High roll? Or I can just let you go first, since you're a beginner?”

“Such a gentleman, guess I'll just go first.”

Leon's deck is as straightforward as Luis promised. He plays mountains. He taps mountains and casts creature spells that he attacks with. There are some instant and sorcery spells in there too, but not a lot and they're pretty simple, mostly just kill spells.

Luis's deck is complicated, which is no surprise. Just about every single card he plays triggers some combo on cards he already has out, and he's constantly drawing cards, scrying, tapping and untapping things, putting counters on shit… It's impossible for Leon to keep up with. But he doesn't really need to. It doesn't matter what Luis is up to, his deck is meant to just keep attacking regardless of what his opponent is doing. And it… Actually works? He thought he was going to get his ass handed to him, but then he gets Luis down to 5 life…

“You got me. There's no way I can win now,” Luis says, scooping his board up and starting to shuffle his deck. “Game two!”

“Oye, earth to Leon, you in there?” Jesus Christ. Luis played a card that required him to shuffle his library and Leon completely zoned out staring at Luis's hands. At first he was just looking at his rings, but then he was just watching his hands shuffling his deck, thinking about what else those fingers could do… What the hell is wrong with Leon? “It's your turn!”

“Right. Sorry. Just zoned out.”

Game two does go to Luis. Quite possibly because Leon kept swooning over him and getting distracted.

But somehow Leon gets his shit together enough to win game three. Luis goes up to report the result of their match, and then the other players that are done gather around and give Luis some shit for losing to a beginner. Leon's anxiety suddenly kicks into overdrive and he gets hit with a vision of Luis throwing him under the bus to protect his own reputation, saying something about how Leon sucks and Luis could have crushed him if he tried, but he went easy on him, and Leon would spend the rest of the night questioning if he actually knows how to play. Being an outcast among other outcasts would be a new low for him.

It doesn't happen. Luis doesn't even dignify the comments with a response, just wanders away from them to glance at the ongoing matches. Leon is both relieved and disappointed that Luis doesn't try to talk to him again. Not until the end of the night, after prize packs are being handed out.

“So… Will I be seeing your pretty face around here again? You won three packs, you could save them for a Friday Night Magic draft for free?”

“Yeah. Think I will.”

Leon isn't sure what exactly a Friday Night Magic draft is, but he'll figure it out.

#luis absolutely did make mistakes on purpose so leon would win the first game. but it's a secret he'll take to his grave #he just wanted to give him a lil confidence booster so he wouldn't be intimidated against other opponents #and would feel confident playing super aggressive the rest of the night #serennedy #serrennedy #luis serra #leon kennedy

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pxnsneverland · 1 year

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Beauty and the Boss | austin!elvis x oc (part 9)

plot summary: Laura Jean Walker is the daughter to Louisiana’s most powerful mafia boss, but to her, he’s just her jail warden. When she sneaks out to the Louisiana Hayride with her friend she sees Elvis Presley perform and instantly knows something is special about this boy. Especially when he saves her from being assaulted by a townie. She thinks she’s on cloud 9 until she gets kidnapped in the middle of the night by the Memphis Mafia led by Elvis himself. Will Laura Jean try to free herself or will something hold her back from finding her way home?

pairings: austin!elvis x oc

word count: 1845

warnings/notes: Hey guys! Sorry it's been so long since I posted a part, but I finally got some time today :)

Chapter 9

The funeral of Gladys passed in a blur, and before we knew it, the wake was upon us. A steady stream of visitors flowed in and out of the house, all eager to pay their respects to the departed soul lying in the casket. It was a somber sight, made all the more poignant by the fact that it now occupied the very spot where Elvis's grand piano once stood. Beyond the threshold, amidst the ebb and flow of visitors, a throng of journalists and the flicker of camera bulbs stood poised, anticipating Elvis' emergence and any utterance he might offer. The dogs were ravenous, and they seemed intent on exploiting his grief. In the interim, Elvis had not crossed my path since our return from the church. He vanished up the stairs, never to return. I empathized with the agony he was experiencing and yearned to offer solace with my words. However, I was aware that words would be futile in this situation. The death of my mother continued to linger in my mind even after all these years, and it was not an unexpected heart attack like Ms. Gladys.

Perched upon the plush velvet carpeting of the steps, I observed the bustling crowd from a safe vantage point. I was disinclined to respond to inquiries or receive expressions of sympathy that were rightfully intended for Elvis. The memory of Mama's funeral flooded back to me, overwhelming my senses. Hollow utterances emanating from individuals who lacked sincerity in their speech. It was precisely the phrase one utters to console those who have suffered the loss of a cherished person. Their assistance fell short of your expectations. With a firm grasp on the hem of my black dress, I attempted to free myself from the labyrinth of my own thoughts. I found myself being pulled into a recollection that I had no desire to revisit. I felt a sense of gratitude as Colonel descended the stairs, his expression conveying more than just dissatisfaction.

The Colonel grumbled, “He won’t come out of that closet.” Though he averted his gaze, I sensed that his words were directed towards me. He leaned against the wall adjacent to my position. “There are some fine folks from the press waiting outside. A few questions, pictures, and they will leave us alone.”

With a cool gaze, I observed him closely, and his subtle response indicated that he was aware of my piercing stare. “You want him to go talk to the reporters? After his Mama just died? The person he was closest to in the world?”

“I know, I know.” The insincere tone of his voice sent shivers down my spine. “He trusted her like nobody else, and now she’s gone and who does he have now?” He finally looked at me.

“You’ve picked the wrong person for an ally, Colonel. I ain’t forcin’ him to go talk to nobody.”

“No, no. That’s not…that’s not what I meant. I care about my boy whether you believe that or not, Ms. Walker. I tried talking to him but it’s really not my place. You, however, have his heart perhaps just as much as his dear Mama did. He trusts you. Despite our differences, you and I, we have one thing in common. We want what is best for that boy. And today, you are what is best.”

The art of deception is often employed by conmen, who skillfully blend elements of truth with their own ulterior motives. The art of perception was a skill passed on by my father, and it allowed me to easily discern the true intentions of the Colonel. Perhaps his interest in Elvis was genuine, but it was overshadowed by his preoccupation with his own celebrity and public persona. As the reporters continued to exploit Elvis's sorrow, the Colonel's pockets grew increasingly lined with cash. Despite the presence of the man standing next to me, my adoration for Elvis remained paramount. I rose to my feet, delicately smoothing out the fabric of my skirt.

“I’m not makin’ him come down if he don’t want to,” I declared, preceding my ascent up the stairs towards the room that was once occupied by Gladys.

Not a single thing had been disturbed since her passing. The room appeared to be suspended in time, a poignant tribute to a person who would never again occupy its space. The faint sound of Elvis's subdued weeping emanated from the depths of her closet. I advanced cautiously, mindful of the potential for startling him. My trepidation stemmed from a fear that he might bolt from my presence, much like a skittish cat. The door of the closet was slightly ajar, allowing a breath of fresh air to seep through. With a hesitant hand, I gradually pushed the closet door ajar. Inside, I was met with a heart-wrenching sight - Elvis was seated on the floor, his thin frame huddled amidst his Mama's dresses. Tears streamed down his face, his sobs wracking his entire body with each passing moment. He stole a quick glance in my direction before turning away, pressing his cheek against the soft fabric of a dress.

I lowered myself onto the ground, maintaining a safe distance from him, as I positioned myself directly in front of him. “Hi, baby.”

“She’s gone…”

“I know. But all your friends and family…they’re wonderin’ where you are.”

A deep sob escaped his lips. “I can’t go out there, Laura Jean. I can’t. I just want to stay in here forever.” Tears streamed down his face as he buried it into the soft fabric of the dress's skirt.

My heart shattered into even smaller pieces for him than it had for myself when I experienced the same misfortune. With a deep breath, I closed the distance between us and enveloped him in a warm embrace, my arms encircling his broad shoulders. He maintained his grip on the garments, yet refrained from deterring me. “I know how you feel. When my Mama died, all I wanted to do was crawl into the ground with her. I felt like my whole world was in pieces and the person who usually picked them up wasn’t there anymore.” I gently massaged his back. “No one could ever replace her. Why, Ms. Gladys was a one-of-a-kind woman who raised a one-of-a-kind son. I wish I could be half as strong as she was some day.”

Elvis buried his head in my shoulder and embraced me with such force that it became difficult to catch my breath. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do without her. She was everythin’. All this…all this was for her.”

My fingers glided through his hair. “You cry now. You cry your little heart out for as long as you need to. And day by day, you just keep on movin’, keep on livin’. Cause that’s what your Mama would have wanted. For you to live your life as fully and as happily as you can.” I gently pressed my lips against his forehead. “And I’ll be here for you, too. Whenever you need me. I’ll work and I’ll worry in your Mama’s place. Okay?” With a nod, he buried his face deeper into my shoulder. To hold him felt like I was holding a baby who was twice my size. Gradually, I rose to my feet, pulling him up alongside me until we were both standing upright. With a gentle touch, I wiped away the tears that had gathered on his face, my fingers softly caressing his cheek. “Now we’re gonna go downstairs and you’re gonna go say goodbye to your Mama.”

With a sniffle, Elvis enfolded me in a warm embrace, pressing my head against his chest. He clasped my head firmly, as if he feared that I might vanish into thin air. All the while, I listened intently to the rhythmic thumping of his heart. “I ain’t never gonna let anyone take you away from me, you hear? Not your Daddy, not the Colonel, no one. I don’t care about money or stupid mafia business. I just care about you.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I vowed.

With tears streaming down his face, he whispered, “I love you, Laura Jean.”

“I love you too.” I grasped his hand firmly and led him out of the bedroom, descending the stairs in unison. Silence fell over the room as Elvis made his way towards the open casket of Gladys. No expense had been spared for her funeral, from the casket to the flower arrangements and every detail in between. As I gazed upon her, she appeared serene and undisturbed, nestled within the soft and luxurious velvet that lined the interior of the casket. Elvis gazed intently at her, his grip on my hand unyielding. He parted his lips, as if to utter words to her, but they were abruptly stifled by a wrenching sob. I rested my head upon his shoulder.

The Colonel shuffled up behind us and placed a hand on Elvis's shoulder. “I can’t even begin to understand what you are going through, my boy. But you have comforted your friend and your family. You need to go comfort your fans too, hmm? They are worried about you. And if you don’t go do that all that your mama sacrificed for you will be for nothing.”

The desire to expel acid from my mouth consumed me. Using Elvis at this time? How could he? He was in no position to have a conversation with anyone. He needed the freedom to simply exist as a young man who had suffered the loss of his mother, rather than being burdened with the weighty expectations of embodying the iconic figure of Elvis Presley. In spite of my innermost insults directed towards Colonel Parker, Elvis gravitated towards him and sought solace in his embrace, shedding tears upon his shoulder. I yearned to persuade him that the presence of the elderly gentleman was superfluous. The Colonel hesitantly rubbed Elvis's back.

“You stay with my through thick and thin, okay?” he asked, his eyes searching for reassurance. Elvis expressed, “You’re like a father to me.”

My eyes locked onto the Colonel's, and he met my gaze with a smug expression that made me itch to wipe it off his face. Despite my constant challenges, he relished the sense of power he wielded over Elvis. I persisted in my efforts to liberate Elvis from the clutches of the snowman, refusing to give up until my mission was accomplished. As Elvis withdrew, the Colonel offered a reassuring pat on his shoulder. “Just a few questions and some photos and we will be done.”

“C-Can Laura Jean come with me?” Elvis sniffled.

The Colonel's gaze met mine, but I refused to back down, my expression daring him to confront me. I was determined not to leave Elvis, even if he forbade my presence. He let out a deep sigh and replied, “Of course. You need her now.”

With a nod, I followed Elvis as he led me through the throng of microphones and cameras outside.

Stay tuned for part 10!! Click HERE to view!

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cmrosens · 1 year

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Fantasy Castle Thoughts

Wandering around castle ruins on the weekend while thinking about my fantasy WIP had me thinking about more worldbuilding stuff in fantasy (the obvious ones being covered by others, such as, where does the shit go? How do they get water? How do they not poison themselves while answering Qu 1?):

That film where they erased the entire town and the castle was sat there for no reason (meant to be Rochester) - look, even if your castle is a strategic fortress in the back of beyond, it will have some kind of nearby settlement. Because: who is building it and how long does it take and where do they all live while they're constructing it? Where do they go afterwards? How do the garrison get food (easier to grow crops and raise livestock nearby than have vulnerable wagons bringing it in and being ambushed).

A lot of castles were not built by locals, because you can't trust the fucking locals, that's (usually) why the castle is THERE. If you don't need a defensive structure you build a manor or a stately home. If you're building a castle, it's usually to subdue the population or to defend against the neighbours, but either way, what often happens is that the king or whoever will round up people from his patrimony he knows he's already whipped into shape and can trust, then force-marches them across country and re-settles them in the area the castle is meant to be. They are the ones who then farm and raise livestock, and push out the locals to do so. Over time, you get some intermingling and after a few gens it's a very different demographic, but you have a story of settlement going on with tensions bubbling under the surface. See also: William Rufus wanting to subdue the North of England, forcibly uprooting his tenants in the South of England and making them build and settle in Carlisle, where he built his castle (11thC); the Earl of Lincoln dragging a load of Yorkshire and Lancashire and Lincolnshire men to re-settle his newly bestowed North Welsh lordships, pushing the Welsh into the uplands while the settlers took over the lowlands (12th-13thC).

The settlers around castles bring their own forms of folk religion, superstition, folklore, dialect, and naming patterns, which are specific to their original region. These may be very similar to the ones where they've been settled. What does that look like? Is the culture of particular villages and settlements a little bit different or maybe strikingly so the closer you get to the castles in your world because of this? What are the issues faced by settlers and by local people, how do they get resolved (or do they)? You'd imagine settlers are favoured in court disputes, but depending on the politics, they may actually be overlooked in efforts to appease the locals, leading to some lords really upsetting the very people they took for granted that they could trust. What's going on with all this local level stuff? By the way:: 21stC "my religion is better than yours" is so fucking boring and overdone imo from Western fantasy. Not every fantasy people has to have a US Evangelical approach to faith. Maybe they just don't care, or as soon as they hear something new they're like oooh this is interesting let's incorporate that! And they do. And it's fine. And that's a normal attitude to have. That might be a lot more fun, because then you get multiple variations on a theme, which create lots of little layers and nuance to your world, rather than a very one-dimensional impression of "homogeneity" with the danger of slipping into ye olde "X Bad, Y Good" dichotomy.

Technology and adapting tech: building castles requires tech, and once you know how long something took to build, you know what the tech was and can work out how it may have developed since then. Also think about how it can be adapted. If you've got a world where castles are required because fighting happens, you have a world full of disabled people. War causes disability. Even tournaments were EXCEEDINGLY dangerous. Henry VIII got permanent brain damage at one. Other knights were left paralysed, many died, some were amputees as a result. People get their legs hacked off due to gangrene from wounds. People get arrows lodged in their spines. People get sick from malnutrition and develop conditions like osteoarthritis, osteoporosis, etc. Picture this: your lord gets severely injured and may never walk again just by falling from his horse (common). Unfortunately, the castle steps are DESIGNED to be difficult to get up and down, because it's a defensive structure, and you DO NOT want to make it easy for enemies to just stroll up to the upper levels which are the most defensible. Bear in mind that the majority of a castle is empty space: the ward. The domestic quarters are built into the walls, usually the inner walls of a concentric castle. Your lord had an upper floor room. In a castle, space is at a premium. You need all the space on the ground floor and it's already occupied. What do you do? Well - you remember that pulley system for heaving big tons of dressed stone up to the top of the scaffolding when constructing the tower? Yeah. Yeah you're going to use that. And if your lord is now permanently disabled and cannot use the stairs, you can work out how to refine that. But right now, you need to get him into bed so the physician can look him over, because if he dies right now this would be terribly politically inconvenient . Even if this hasn't happened in your current story right now, if this was the case for the lord or two BEFORE, the equipment may all still be there, and still be in place.

Anyway if you like this, you might like my newsletter and podcast, and the books I write.

#world building #fantasy castle #things i think about #worldbuilding #writblr #indie writers #writeblr #creative writing

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pliablehead · 1 year

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I guess if I want to write a travelogue/write up post about my 4-stop journey following the first chunk of Everything Everything's 2023 US tour then I have to just... do it!! If this is of interest to anyone other than me then GREAT and if not then it's still special to me to try to write down and remember everything I can uwu

FIRST STOP WASHINGTO-- wait, no, actually, first stop, on my way out of town, the local donut shop in my neighborhood, a place that I absolutely adore and patronize all the time with staff who mostly know me by now/some of whom are my instagram friends/etc. i'd checked with the Pittsburgh venue ahead of time to see if it was okay to send in outside food as a gift to the band even though they have a cafe/bar in their own right, and whoever I corresponded with said it would be totally fine, so I talked to the donut shop manager and set up a delivery of a dozen for the lads for Saturday before their show here. advance paid for that, as well as getting my own breakfast and coffee hehe, and then hit the road. OKAY FOR REAL FIRST STOP WASHINGTON DC!!! This was the second-longest leg of my Car Driving and it was definitely a wee bit exhausting but I had a podcast or two and a ton of E E on shuffle to bolster me through and I made it to my mom's friends' house, where I was staying, with relative ease. The venue was within a not-too-unreasonable walking distance too so after a change of clothes (I had very distinct and deliberate Show Outfits for each night that were fully separate from my travelin' clothes) and a bunch of fussing with the bracelets™ I headed over!! stopped for empanadas and a smoothie on the way and then queued up!!

aaaaahh this was such a nice fun queue. I was maybe about a dozen-ish people back from the front, down about half a block, and once I finished scarfing down my food this was my first real experience with doling out the bracelets. so fun! I'm glad it was basically an instant hit! AND I even got a few trades in this queue--one person gave me a Man Alive / Tin / E E bracelet with teeny tiny beads, super fun, and one person with a SHITTON of kandi stuff gave me one that had the name of a flower genus on it?? i think they said it was?? I love the colors on this one! And one person traded me a Blow Pop. lmao. I should eat that before it sits in my fanny pack for too long. I also really enjoyed chatting with the two guys right in front of me (Nick and Alex?), who were from south-central PA and had a couple other fandom touchstones in common with me (mcelroys/dnd/BDG! I love this Venn diagram!!) as well as a big love for E E. We didn't really see much of each other beyond the point of getting inside but I liked y'all a lot!! Hope you had as great a time as I did!!

Black Cat is where I saw E E the first time I EVER SAW THEM, which was almost exactly six years ago from this gig, which is insaaaane. The space is kind of narrow so there's not a huge amount of stage barrier space right at the front, so Becky and I ended up pretty much at the front but almost aa-all the way stage left/Jeremy-side. coulda been worse hehehe. We kind of loitered and chatted with nearby folks, I think maybe becky checked out merch ahead of the show ? but I kind of just held down the fort, enjoying setup stuff, pete running around etc hehe. getting BLASTED by the AC, which was nice.

the ummmm the opener! our first experience with Pierre! I gotta say his general style is not for me, despite the fact that I do think he's very talented and good at the thing he's doing. this first night especially he was SO sweaty and I felt bad for him lmao, you could like see it dripping off him. i am so curious as to why/how he got paired with the boys for this tour, like, what aligned in such a way that this match was made, because my general vibe on the crowd/his audience/etc was that we the fans of the nerdy white english mathy rocker guys were not exactly his demo LOL. BUT i will say in DC I do think he had one little pocket of strong-contingency fans because I kept hearing big whoops and cheers coming from one specific audience spot and I loved that for him lmao. for some reason i cannot explain I actually almost found his backing/support musician guy (the guy who was basically his version of peter) more compelling. I wanna know THAT dude's story lol.

so when he finished up we had a little interlude aaaannndd the setlist appeared... hehe. I could def have peered up to look at it from where I was, but I was telling myself I wanted to be surprised, and was deliberately looking away........ until suddenly everyone around me was gasping and going HOLY SHIT and I was like, ugghhh okay, I will check JUST enough to figure out what that's all about, and what that was all about was immediately apparent because smack in the middle of the set were a Man Alive track (which we never get in the states bar MY KZ) and something that just said "New Song." AND LIKE, OKAY, THAT'S A JUSTIFIED HOLY SHIT. new song????? so now we had THAT to contend with coming up, and aaaaaaah. ahh. yeah holy shit indeed.

it's also while we're standing there that AG pops into view, (or maybe I first spotted him during Pierre's set? Chronology is irrelevant), back off behind Becky from me in the other direction, and we waved over at him to say hi and he says to us, "All four of them are bleached blond." And my gut instinct was to be like, I DON'T BELIEVE YOU, but also the truth in my heart was that there was absolutely no justification for not believing them, because of course they would, and sure enough these bozos roll out onto the stage and they are all four draco malfoy-ass bleach blond. God it looks a mess on Jeremy LOL and while the color/dye job wasn't bad on Alex, it was clear his finer hair wasn't holding up as well against the chemicals because it was just a fluffy riot mess. BUT GOD IT WAS REALLY SO INCREDIBLY STRIKING OF A VISUAL for them to be all be wearing all pure white/beige clothes and then to have this bleach-white hair and all of it catching and glowing under the stage lights... god... clearly the effect they were going for and it WORKED, IT REALLY DID. I think it looks so damn goofy (mostly on jez) out of context but it's ABSOLUTELY nailing the Everything Everything Gig Costumes energy/uniform thing that I felt like they'd drifted away from a little the past couple tour cycles, I'm so incredibly here for it

The set!!!! The gig!!!!!!! it wasn't a wildly different set from what we'd seen in CA last year, obviously RDF-heavy supplemented with a heaping helping of singles from the other albums too, but I remember thinking Leviathan and Pizza Boy were especially excellent aaaah. And Schoolin'! And the NEW SONG! The two pieces of it I IMMEDIATELY absorbed and retained were 'the image of a little yellow face to tell you that I'm sorry' and 'I love you like an atom bomb,' and I was spouting those two pieces back to anyone who wanted to talk to me about it for the rest of the night. I'm so lyrics-pilled/vocalist-biased. Which was.... Unfortunate, for this DC gig, because I do think the audio mix was pretty rough - at least from where we were standing so close to the front, I wonder if it was at least a tiny bit better further back into the crowd in the area the sound system was probably primarily calibrated for - and we were REALLY losing Jon in the mix, especially underneath how enthusiastically the crowd was singing along a lot of the time. We were on Jeremy's side of the stage and we were really just getting a LOT of Jeremy. (Which, the bass did sound absolutely fantastic, so hard to complain about that, at least, but still.) I was very thankful to be going to a few more gigs beyond this one so that this wasn't my only experience with it, especially New Song!!! Plus there were a bunch of other little tech difficulties too? Near the beginning of the new song, Jon's guitar strap came detached and wouldn't reconnect, and after struggling a bit with that he decided to just drift back and pass it off the stage to their tech guy--but he was still kind of singing/holding the mic, so as he moved on stage, the mic cable yanked the microphone stand straight over, too. Then the rest of the night that stand was pretty precarious and nearly fell two other times, only caught at the last minute by a true homie who was standing directly in front of it in the audience lmao. I think Becky yelled HIRE HIM! at one point. Annnnd also for like a whole verse of NOTLK jez's bass boards just kind of Gave Up. He tried switching to his other instrument but that wasn't working either, and then finally it all sort of came back online, so he played a little stretch with the wrong bass and then was able to switch back to the right bass when there was a lull in his part. SHAMBLES. lmfao. god it was a great gig though. SO FUCKING GOOD TO BE BACK I LOVE BAND UWAAAAAHH I WAS SO SWEATY AND HAPPY

afterrrr da gig, we needed very badly to drink water and so we managed to do that I believe, and we kind of loitered in the Merch Line Situation trying to figure out what was going on. I had kind of resolved not to buy merch until at least NY, part because I really didn't want to be lugging anything around with me for too much of my trip (esp on this night where I walked) and part because I'd read a post that Irving Plaza was among the venues who'd committed to not taking a cut of band merch sales and letting them keep it all, and I was like, well obvi that's where I want to spend my money. Plus it was cash only in DC and since I'd kind of told myself NY I didn't even have cash out, so it was nothing. BUT!!! homie Adrian whomst I had met at the DC Foals show last December had been there, a few people ahead of me in the queue and also rocking out yaayyy, and he was trying to get merch but the ATM inside the venue literally did not have any more cash left inside it to dispense because everyone was taking out so much of it to buy merch AAAH. so he reached out to me like 'you're going to more shows than just this one right?' and asked if I'd pick him up the stuff he wanted later and then mail it to him so he didn't have to contend with international shipping and I was like aaaah absolutely! yay gig comradeship!

so I think becky finally committed to getting in the merch line and I was mostly just waiting With Becky and there weren't a ton of people left because the venue was trying to clear out, but the handful of us who were still there, a wild Alex Robertshaw appeared up near the stage/bar. we vibed out whether he was receptive to Fan Bothering at this time but it seemed legit, so a bunch of us went over and socialized with him and took some pics, got some signatures, etc, woooo. We tried to vibe out from him also if the other guys were gonna be coming out, and when and where, but y'all know Alex is the awkwardest member of this band by a country mile and we didn't really have too coherent of a discourse at this point in time lmao. Not sure who talked to him about what at this point as I was just trying to hold down the fort and be Normal. I was able to give Alex the bracelet I'd made for him at this point (he was so cute studying on it and reading it ahaha - "rave-- kevin-- kevins rave KEVIN'S RAVE" and he smiled and I felt cool), and also meanwhile Pete was still running around stage doing roadietech type stuff and I sort of politely flagged him down like "do what you need to do if you need to do it but also: Hi lol" and I got to give him his bracelet as well! yay ♥. He complimented my shirt--I'd been getting a lot of compliments on it honestly, it's their Yellow Bird Project shirt that Jon designed some time ago, only I replaced the plain white sleeves of the original unisex tee with some sort of vermilion "girly fit" sleeves that are more comfy to me and kind of give the shirt a different look haha--and I sort of joked on that, said as much, oh, I swapped the sleeves out, "It's to cover up how sweaty I get." and Pete gave me a deadpan look and went "You don't even want to go there with me" and I was like "YEP I FEEL MUCH THE SAME" and I think we both enjoyed a moment of feeling very Seen about the sweatiness hehehehehe. I love Pete he is my heckin Friend With no additional merch purchases (merchases) (hm, no) the venue was finally for realsies ejecting us so we drifted back out into the streets and just like... okay... now what........ this was the point at which I think our Band Groupie-ing Crew became me, Becky, Danielle in the fox ears/tail, and a lanky youth named S.P. whom I'd talked to in line earlier while doling out bracelets (he had the good E E baseball cap; he asked for an Arc bracelet and I commended him for being an Arc fan, since I feel like they are a dwindling/rarer breed, and then I offered up my hot take that Violent Sun is just the second coming and second pass at Duet, which he thought was spicy, and then he asked for my most controversial E E take and I told him that I don't really like Tin very much and he told me he doesn't really like Shark Week very much and we agreed to disagree and have a good night LOL) (anyway I digress !). It was a warm enough night and none of us really had places to be so we didn't mind just loitering and trying to suss out some more Guys other than just Alex and Pete, but slowly but surely we became basically the only fans left sticking it out. so we stuck together! We split up to try to find if there was a rear stage door at the back and SP and I went one way (the long way RIP) and Becky and Danielle went the other way and it turns out the way that SP and I went was an alleyway just FULL of rats. Too many rats in DC!! People like to talk about rats in NYC but I saw WAY more in Washington just vibing out on the sidewalks and eating trash. I'm not anti-rat, they live there and deserve to live, but oh man it was just. I did not especially want a rat encounter LOL. The rat alley DID actually lead us to where the bus was though!!, but there was also a venue security guy there who was immediately like "Nope, back up, leave, bye" and we were like. understood have a nice day, and doubled around a different way to meet back up with the other two. wwwwelp.

We loitered a bunch more and eventually saw Alex and his homies like, AT LEAST two more times, but we ultimately never saw anyone else. They p much confirmed for us that because this was the first night of the tour, they had a really intense load-out, and everyone was jetlagged to all fuck, that they probably wouldn't ever make it out, even though at least once Alex had said something ambiguous/optimistic enough to imply that they might yet, but really it just got SO late that we couldn't justify still being there for nothing instead of being like. asleep. lol. SP and Danielle got rideshares, Becky and I walked back as far as her hotel together, and then I hiked the rest of my way back too and went the fuck to SLEEP!!! FIRST GIG IN THE BOOKS!! WHAT A LOVELY NIGHT GOD IT WAS JUST SO BEAUTIFUL TO BE SEEING THEM AGAIN ngl I think the blond is really attractive on Mike with his darker brows/beard and I'm always a sl*t for jonathan so like. beautiful. finally some delicious fucking food

it was super nice of my mom's friend to let me stay with him!!! I was so delighted to see his cats again, I remembered them from the last time I was there like six or so years ago, they're sooooo floofy and beautiful aahh. he also provided me with a white noise fan without me even asking which was SO choice. zzzzz. My plan was to get up in the morning, get coffee someplace nearby at wherever he recommended, and then hit the road forrrr... Philadelphia!!! Night two!!!! I got some breakfast tacos at a hella legit place, messed up my coffee/milk/sugar ratio ever so slightly but not in an undrinkable way, and then frickin. autobot rolled out. This drive was not bad at ALL, I timed it pretty much exactly like I planned it to, which was to: get to my friend's place where I was crashing in philly with, ideally, enough time to take a small nap before I had to do anything else, because, god, despite being pretty exhausted and sleeping okay on the nice guest bed in DC, I had BARELY slept the night before I left just from Travel Antsiness and from both staying up way later and waking up way earlier than I meant to unintentionally, and a second little recharge zzz before I went and did it all over again really hit the spot.

It was soooo nice to see Mads again and to see Mr. Angus and also meet BENNY!! More host cats!! They are suuuch silly good little lads, Mads and I had a ton of Kitty Chat and just vibing out and talking about concerts and fandom and stuff, I was so thankful she let me stay with her and getting to hang out was icing on the cake of this trip! She pointed me toward the trolley I'd need to take to get to the venue, and after my baby snzzz and drinking a ton of water and suiting up in my Arc-inspired look (literally just a sweatshirt dress I bought specifically because it was color-blocked very very much like the jackets/outfits they toured Arc in, I saw it and bought it immediately lmfao) I journeyed into the city, hoping to just find a place to eat in the vicinity of the gig! I was way closer up in the queue this time, the people in front of me were really just like.... the usual suspects, Annika+squad and David+squad (incl. Becky, who'd apparently already been there when I got there but wasn't there when I arrived), and also a super-nice woman immediately in front of me named Robin who I MEGA hit it off with!!! Hanging out with her was such an awesome part of my experience at this gig!!! she's COMPLETELY Offline which is so powerful for her but I hope there's some capacity in which we can continue to be friends because she ruled.

There was a Dominican(? I think) place like one block down from the venue where a couple in front of me had gotten some stuff and so I ran down there to snag food too and holy shit this man gave me so much goddamn food. Just a HUGE pile of rice and beans and some pork ribs, and I got a pineapple fanta, and I just popped a squat on the sidewalk and ate as much of it as I could which was probably not even half of what he gave me but it wasn't even that expensive so god bless. Once I wasn't dealing with my food sitch any more I was freed up to pass out a bunch of bracelets again, and I even got a couple more trades, one that was just a bunch of black beads and a bunch of Xs and one that says 'BUSSY' which I am elated about, thank you so fucking much lmao. Also someone offered to trade me an ibuprofen LOL and I was like no that's fine the bracelet can be free... for now, but I will keep that in mind if I change my mind later LOL aaahhh i was just so excited to give the bracelets out it was such a good vector for socializing and making Friends and Gig Buddies. I did learn p quickly at Philly that I should have made way more Man Alive, GTH, and Raw Data feel bracelets because those were basically the first to go every night and then I got stuck with just sad unloved Re-Animators and AFDs :( I was trying to like! do equal amounts of everything to give everything the love because I love them all! but people got favorites out there damn lmao. I was happy to be able to give Robin the MY KZ one because she said that's the first song she ever heard by them and it's special to her because of that (and then also it's been in the touring set and she got to hear them perform it too yay!!! I don't remember if she said she'd seen them before but it had just been a very very long time, or what, idk, aaaah).

We were R I G H T on the stage at this venue, slightly more to Alex's side this time, and the lip/rise of the stage was not very high at ALL and it felt almost like... intimidating, or like it shouldn't have been ALLOWED, for us to be that close to the stage. :flushed emoji: jeez lmao. I didn't fuck w merch here either but some people around me did I think and I held their spots, and a nice kid from right behind me in the queue brought me a Liquid Death which was so incredibly sweet. Pierre's set passed much as it had in DC, lmao; his other musician guy had a sweet fit on, though, this like two-piece set that was a really really dark/muted camo, a blazer over a black top and then matching like athleisure-fit pants and black boots, it was a fuckin look. They had a song at the very end of Pierre's Philly set that I don't think they'd done in DC (and that I didn't get in PGH either, it turned out), and ironically that was actually probably far and away the song of his I enjoyed the most, so I got kind of into it there at the end! but MAN was I ready to see the boys instead. hnnnn.

LADS SO CLOSE TO ME. JUST RIGHT THERE AND SINGING AND ROCKING. the set was aaaalmost exactly the same as DC, but in Philly they shifted Bad Friday up out of the encore and back into the set proper, and then replaced it in the encore with Violent Sun, which I admit I'd been bummed to not see in DC because I think the Violent Sun/No Reptiles encore double whammy is so incredibly crucial to the vibe. Warmed me to have it back in. Obviously Pittsburgh had so many other contributing factors that put it over the edge, but if it weren't for all of those, I think Philly would've been my favorite/best experience of these four gigs. Jon was spicy (he sang so many of the Original Rejected naughty lyrics, this is where we got 'he's a vegetable now' for the first and only time and also the only gig of the four where he leaned into the 'Arch Jeremy' gag in Arch Enemy, hehehehe, plus also motherfuckin' distant past which is not uncommon), and we got way more of the New Song-- through the whisper network of Becky, AG, David, etc., etc., we'd pieced together enough info to know by now that apparently the title of the song was in the lyrics of the chorus, and so I think it was in Philly that we all pretty much determined/decided that this was Cold Reactor. I love you like an atom bomb and I've become a cold reactor. I wasn't diving as DEEP into SONG DECIPHERING as some other folks were, but I did like kind of working on it at my own pace and absorbing it into my heart and my understanding of the band and what they're about to start doing, and so this was really great, for me, here, beautiful, beautiful. I took almost NO pics and vids at this one because my phone was kind of dying but also mostly just because I was honestly having such an enormously great time and I didn't feel the need to try to do anything other than be present in my body at the gig and experience it live. you KNOW?? LIKE!! MUSIC. man. EDIT TO ADD: I forgot to mention a small tech flub that was actually so charming, where near the very end of Arch Enemy jon seemed to be having trouble with his guitar board in the front, and he spent so long in the outro squinting down at it and trying to resolve the issue that he didn't fully come in on the It's time to show your face! bit at the proper time, and he ended up just saying "It's time to show your face." right into the mic very unaffected and straight-up in his regular speaking voice at the very, very end when the song was basically over. lol. he is cute. everyone is cute.

(I WILL ALSO SAY I got the giggles SO BAD at david and amanda's gudetama they slipped onto the stage, oh my god--I was going to take a joke video just dramatically zooming in on it, as one does, except right when I went to do that it got caught up in jon's mic cable and just TUMBLED AND JOSTLED ALL OVER THE PLACE and that fucking GOT me and I was DYING and it was right at like. the serious, heartstring-tugging, fuck-yeah parts of No Reptiles where I'm supposed to be at CHURCH and instead I'm losing my shit into hysterics over this poor gudetama just rolling everywhere alksdhjglaksd, I had to bury my face in Becky's shoulder for a measure or more and try to recover, oh my godddd. EGGS!) -- (OH ALSO I LMAO I HAVE SEVERAL AUDIENCE MEMBER ~BITS THAT I AM DOING just like, clapping here or there, participating actively in certain parts of things, and one that I kept doing for some asshole clown reason was singing along with/lampshading Alex's quick backing vox on the second verse of Spring Sun Winter Dread-- Philly was probably the place where I was the most prominent/obvious/easy to see doing it, and it made both him and Jeremy REALLY snicker, ahahaha I'm sorryyyyyyy for being obnoxioussssss)

The merch/loitering sitch was sli-iiightly more locked down, in here; there was only so long Marty and I could pretend to be thinking about merch/hanging out with people who were actually in line but not actually being in line before they really truly wanted us to leave, and they were pretty pissed that I even left the venue with an empty/ice-only water cup, never mind any dreams of re-entry. The militant energy of the security at this venue compared to how relatively chill and normal DC had been (for two venues I would say of comparable size/seriousness) was def my least favorite part of the Philly experience. I was outside, finishing my water and chitchatting with some artsy youths who were also unimpressed with security, and Becky's messaging me like "they're in here!" and I'm like "well I'm not and I can't come back so you gotta tell them to come out here!" lmao. But they did!!! All the guys came out before too long and I very delightfully got to talk to everyone. I gave Mike and Jeremy the bracelets I'd made for them - THEY both apologized to ME outright for not coming out to chat the night before?? like hello you’re the band we’re the fans you don’t owe us anything - they kind of came toward my side of the door first, and talked and chatted some, vs Jon sort of peeling the other way to the other half of the loiterers - I honestly have lost track of the sequence of events here and what happened when, but it was largely unimportant hehe. (Gosh, but then I keep randomly remembering other unrelated details. Like, for example, Black Cat gave me their big ol' signature black cat hand stamp, and I'd been thinking, oh this will be fun to watch my four hand stamps stack from these four gigs, the way I got two together from The Altogether/Matt Duncan double feature back in July, and then Underground Arts put theirs on the INSIDE OF MY WRIST and not the back of my hand, and both Irving and T-Bird just did wristbands. BUMMER.) But mostly just Seeing Band, Talking To Band. This was when I overheard Alex definitely confirm to someone that the new song is called Cold Reactor, and he sort of half-seriously half-not said they just didn't call it that on the setlist in case there was another "New Song" they might want to decide to start playing there instead at the last minute, even though the longer this goes on the more confident we are that they're not going to do that and that Cold Reactor is gonna be a new single that probably drops once this tour is over <___< eyes emoji. Also, between Wednesday and Thursday we also knew that the bleach-blond hair is for Lore Reasons, which we assume are to do with Cold Reactor and the album it will be on, because of course it is. stupid. jonathan higgs I want to crawl inside your deranged pisces mind and meld with it vulcan style.

anyway, as far as my short term memory can be relied upon/will tell me is the truth, I think Jon was actually the last person I ended up in contact with on this night; I was drifting over toward him but someone else was still engaged in an active conversation with him, so I was like, well obviously I will wait my turn and let other people have jonathan time even though I'm the biggest jonathan girlie, I can just hang and go in when he frees up, and so I was turned slightly away from him listening in on other convos and talking to Becky and maybe Annika or a couple other people, and then suddenly there's a delicate hand on the back of my shoulder and Jon's right in my fucking ear ominously going "hello." askdjhgka. He was soooo cute and nice, I gave him the bracelet I made him as well (which was "I wanna be there" from Violent Sun and shades of re-animator orange) and he was immediately like Oh, of course you, are the bracelet distributor, and I was like hehehe yes, and he asked if I also had to do with the gudetama and I was like absolutely not I have no idea what is going on there lmfao. and I think amanda and david did take credit for it at that time of course so yes hehe. Ended up in a fun casual chitchat with Jon and Becky for most of the rest of the time here, with her trying to squeeze him for info about the new song and album and lore hehehe and him being his typical cryptic trolly cagey Jon, and it was all in incredibly good fun; he noticed her bracelet too, and she pointed it out like Yes I got the one that says This Is The Prophecy from big climb because it hearkens back to that bit they were doing on twitter from way before that song even came out so I gave her that one on purpose duh lol, and Jon says "Oooh yep I forgot about that. .. Album..." and mimed swiping his hair back like whoopsie lmao and it was such a silly little half-self-neg on Re-Animator lol, and so I said "WELP too bad! because the one I made from you is one of those too haha!" and he took another look at it as if to remind himself about it and then went "Well yeah that one's good" with a wryer wickeder laugh and I was like lmao tell us how you really feel. But like he's right violent sun is perfect and I actually labored so long over what I was going to have jon's say because he was the only person I didn't have a really solid concrete idea of what to make for and ALSO he was the only one I REALLY wanted to get PERFECT because it's important to me and yeah. so it was. reassuring for him to like the violent sun one. idk anyway.

The woman we'd seen running around doing a lot for them, including merch, who recognized us from DC the night before and was fun and glib about it, and who turns out to be: Tour Manager Sam, finally had enough of our fucking about and started very efficiently organizing us all into "everyone who wants a pic with themself + all four guys come get in Now and I'm gonna play photographer and then we all gotta go the fuck home" and I respected it SO much lmao, so we had sort of a rotating queue of group picture taking and then the guys all went back inside the venue (I kind of fingerguns'd Jon like "New York :D?" and he looked at me just SO Put Out and just deadpanned "Of course you're going to be there." of course!! lmfao) and we started talking amongst ourselves just out of reluctance to let the night end/social energy we still wanted to wallow in and that was cute and nice. I said goodbye to some folks who weren't going any further on the tour. I had such a wonderful night. Then, lo and behold, we turn around and Jeremy's up on the stoop of the venue, and he's like, I think I've locked myself out. I am locked out and I also don't have my phone on me. lmfao jez. he goes "I am going to blame jonathan" and we allowed him that. I was like, do you want me to TWEET AT SOMEONE LOL and he was like good god no they'll come back for me eventually, and then yes they did, and THEN we all left hahahaha. becky insisted on sticking with me part of the way to the trolley but I was like, it is coming in 14 minutes and it says it's gonna take me 12 minutes to get there I gotta GO!, and I freaking missed it anyway!!! and then I had to wait like OVER HALF AN HOUR MORE for the next one and i didn't even get ON the trolley till like 12:50 and it was soooo late before I was back at mads's place aiyaa. But, all in all, TRULY SUCH A GOOD NIGHT I JUST LOVE BEING IN AN ACTIVE BUZZY FANDOM SPACE AND MEETING FANS AND PARASOCIALING AND DANCING AND SINGING AND DOING ARTS N CRAFTS. you KNOW?? you know. you're on tumblr you get it.

The Philly to Jersey (pre-NYC) leg of my road tripping was set to be Thee shortest drive I had to make the whole time, so I let myself have time in the morning to keep snoozing and fucking about, even though I once again woke up way earlier than I'd hoped to and didn't ever make it back to sleep after that. But the tradeoff was still super nice and relaxing vibing with Madeline--I offered to buy her breakfast in exchange for the couch-crashin' and we got hella bagel sandwiches and cold brew from a place real close by her apartment, and scarfed 'em down while watching the most recent ep of Make Some Noise and just shooting the shit (again, largely about either fandom or kitty cats. We are simple folk). My sandwich contained salmon, a fried egg, and the most incredible sloppy caramelized onions, what a banger. The last truly good food I truly enjoyed before my mega super Travel Tummy set in and wrecked my whole shop metabolically speaking, rip. I took a little rinsy-rinse shower at her place too, and then finally made myself get up and Go to do the runaround silly business of driving to and parking in NJ, taking the ferry in to Manhattan, and then taking the subway to Allegra's place for NIGHT THREE IN NEW YORK CITY WOOOOO. I LOVE going to E E with Allegra!!!!! Once again I used her place primarily as a spot to change out of my car clothes and into my gig clothes (it's RDF night; I wore an oversized pale beige button-up shirt, actually left over from my Foals Antidotes costume from last halloween hahaha, gussied up with E E pins and jewelry) and to fuck about with bracelets. I made Allegra a special In Birdsong bracelet, the only one I did from that song :) because allegra is my special E E friend!! and she needs one of her special song!!! Fandom... is good. Allegra also had a kickass outfit. We stopped in at a tex-mex place she really wanted to try that was nearby the venue, and i got pretty nervous that it was gonna be a little late before doors for us to be hitting a sit-down dinner spot, but we rushed it along pretty well on the food and got our slice of dessert cake to go in a box and everything was A-OK. And I had time to hit a bodega for merch cash from the ATM and a pineapple soda for fortitude! let's GOOO irving plaza.

God, Irving was kind of a shitshow when it came to queuing and security though. There were a fair few people in line ahead of us, maybe just as many or slightly more than what I'd had in DC (definitely further back than Philly, although in line near us were the same also-eating-Dominican-food couple from the Philly gig, and I recognized them and was glad to see them again-- I FULLY DO NOT REMEMBER/DID NOT CATCH Y'ALL'S NAMES, AND I FEEL TERRIBLE BECAUSE WE HUNG OUT AND WORKED TOGETHER SO MUCH, i am so sorryyyyy), but then because it's not a sweet local friendly indie venue but is in fact Livenation As Hell, there's some person affiliated with the venue wandering up front offering some sort of VIP/fast pass line experience where you can just cough up some extra cash and get in your own special line and get to go in first regardless of how long other people have been queuing--you know the deal. Wack as hell. I think David and Amanda opted for this in some capacity, so I was happy for them about it, but a lot of the other people who ended up doing it had kind of rancid vibes of just like "concert-going" and not the very lovely communal sardine megafan energy everyone else had had thusfar. Also it put us where we were at in the queue standing in a place that just had a really terrible smell of sewage, which persisted almost the entire time we were there only to suddenly be replaced by a very powerful smell of bleach, as if whatever it was was suddenly being cleaned/sanitized. ICKY!! Annika was enough further ahead of us in line that I thought it might have only been over where we were but she said no she was definitely getting it too. new york city babey

Bracelet distribution got a little silly here, too, since the queue was wrapping SO far back and was being policed a little more stringently, but I had kind of figured I may need some kind of additional plan, especially since I'd decided not to wear my fanny pack (bum bag--fanny pack, says Jonathan Higgs in a derisive American accent, even as he's telling me he likes mine a lot, skdjshgalkj smh) since my shorts under my shirt had really capacious pockets and that just made for one less thing to worry about--I snagged a sheet of paper at Allegra's place, along with a gallon-size ziploc bag, and I put all the bracelets in there with a note that said to just take one if you wanted one and pass it back through the queue while we waited. It was kind of a crapshoot how effective I thought this was going to be, especially since I had to kind of wait to deploy it once there was a substantial queue BUT by the time there was a big queue it meant that I couldn't see exactly HOW big from where I was near-ish enough to the front, so I didn't know how far the bag was going to make it, if someone was going to end up stuck with my whole big bag at the back of the line (esp since I had a fair number of extra Philly bracelets left over that I lumped in with the NYC ones just because I still Had them).... whew...! BUT by the time Marty was there, he was further enough back from me that I asked him to kind of check up on it when it made it to him and keep passing it; and, by the time we were going inside, I could see zero sign of the bag itself but I DID catch a lot of people milling around me wearing bracelets, and one or two of them did stop me to thank me (since I'd indicated on my note in the bag that I was the person with green hair hahaha), and then I never saw 'em again, so I guess it was a relative success!! Yayyyyy!! WAY less conducive to making New Line Friends than the DC/Philly setup had been, but incredibly effective at making sure that all my bracelets found new homes rather than me having to take a huge handful home with me again and them just sitting in my house forever LOL. success! :)

tl;dr about the bracelets. not important compared to concert and band. WE GO INSIDE!! They have such dumb security/bag check. a gender-split process where the men get patted down by a dude guard and the women get patted down by a lady guard? In TYOOL 2023? you hate to see it. She felt the Sharpie in my back pocket and made me take it out and surrender it???? MY METALLIC BRONZE SHARPIE ? ? no sharpies in the venue I guess. Talked to at least one other person who got sharpie-confiscated too, but also at least two people who fully didn't and still had markers just fine. Absolute shenanigans. Allegra and I didn't quite get barrier due in part to fastpass line nonsense but we did end up right exactly behind Annika &co. with perfect sightlines, once again stage-left/Jeremy-ward-of-center. we don't hate it! my Philly pals to my left with David, Becky et al in front of them. Me fully surrounded by redheads. LOL.

this was the laaaatest show of my whole run, a whole lot of standing around just waiting for Band, and also definitely the energy of "trying to politely vibe to pierre kwenders's set because he can clearly see me and look straight at me even though I would much rather just skip to the bit I actually came for and don't necessarily need to see his set" just slowly increasing every night RIP lol. BUT WE MADE IT! ohhhh new york. EXACT same set as Philly but I couldn't even be mad about it because I was still so grateful to get a Man Alive song that wasn't just MY KZ (not that I don't love my kz obviously, but it HAS been in the set literally all eight times that I have seen E E live as of this Irving Plaza gig, and something else from that album is fun fresh delicious) (OH, SWEET THREEP OF FRIDAY EVENING, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW) and to be getting COLD REACTOR again, especially becaussseee by this point I knew just enough of the lyrics that I felt confident singing/mouthing along conspicuously with the parts that I Did know, aka I See You Sir I'm Doing The Thing Just Watch Me, god I wish I knew how to be not so fucking extra but then again no I don't. we did get saddled with some Rather Annoying audience members in our near vicinity--a couple I'd spotted in the fastpass line earlier wedged themselves hard between me and my tall redhead/mask-wearing homie from Philly, all like "ummm we're short :)" because they. were, but that didn't give them a right to be pushy and rude, and their vibes were kind of shit because the sense I got was they were mostly there because the girl really loved the band and the dude didn't know much about them at all, and also they were already drunk so early on in the set, and they were talking loudly with some other fans they'd just met and getting Lore™ explained to them and it was just a lot of. loud talking and shoving. in my vicinity. when I would have preferred for there to. not be. BUT Also materializing behind me was someone who said "I saw your bracelets on twitter do you still have any!!" and I had to be like UHHHH FUCK, NO, I turned them loose into the queue, did they not make it as far as you..?? and she sadly said no, and I was like, well the only one I have left is this one I just left on for tradesies/advertising purposes, and it says "akon in the butterfly house" so that's kind of a deep cut, if you're familiar-- and she went WAIT REALLY and seemed SUPER jazzed to get a Dave Sardine-ass bracelet and I was like OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT, GOOD, ACTUALLY, because I'd made four of these and I knew they were going to be the deepest cut/hardest sell and I was really really hoping that whoever ended up with them would actually get and appreciate them. so thank you, andrea, for being that person, and for appearing exactly when the bracelet needed it most. so glad to have hung with you this night. sorry that you too found yourself among the ranks of the sharpie-confiscatees.

ANYWAY, OTHER THAN THAT, THIS AUDIENCE WAS FIRE AND THIS GIG SLAPPED. We were finally in a space and an environment that REALLY lent itself to the crowd actually full on bouncing/dancing instead of just kind of wobbling and vibing and everyone in my immediate zone was really going hard. I LOVE this fucking BAND. I love every song by this band. I love when Jon just points the mic at the crowd and the entire crowd sings the whole song word for word and note for note. I love that Jon was still desperately trying to cram the name of the host city into the start of My Kz, despite the fact that "Washington" subs for "Lucifer" perfectly (he has done this both times I've seen them in DC lol) but "Philadelphia" is WAY too stupid long and "New York City," while a syllable shorter, scans metrically in an extremely busted way and you could have just said EN WHY CEE or. y'know. lucifer. but okay man you do you. Jon was just as rowdy as the rest of us lmfao. he was like, climbing up and down off Mike's riser, he was finding people who were taking photos/videos and staring directly into their cameras (me fucking included--I'm sorry, Jon, you can't make eye contact with me while singing the "When I saw you, I fell in love" part of Leviathan, I am pretty sure that is illegal and a crime against my humanity), and basically all the tracks from Get To Heaven (plus like, Cough Cough and NOTLK) blew the fucking roof off the place. I think he donked some My Kz lyrics hehehe he just skipped to the alt lyrics of the chorus too early without completing the standard chorus first at the end, and a little flubbo in NOTLK and a tiny stutter in No Reptiles too, everyone was just TOO ROWDY and he's THROWN LOOPY and man did we not care. I said multiple times to people on this tour that pretty much the closest things I've ever experienced to true Religion are a) being in an E E audience for No Reptiles and b) being in a Hedwig audience for Midnight Radio. they're the same spiritually in my heart and also like do people who love Jesus feel this way and is this why. insane. the cult leader imagery was Not Wrong!!!!!

I wanna MERCH! I got in the line not too long after the show wrapped, but true to reports I'd heard about the pre-show merch line, it was moving verrryy slowly, with just one guy manning it who was not exactly quick and a card reader that seemed pretty chuggy too (but hey, at least NY was taking card). I'd known I wanted the poster--it's got my favorite neon orange on it, it really really slaps, and I wanted something to get signed--but I let myself talk myself into a t-shirt too, mostly because I was REALLY excited to buy E E merch apparel that wasn't black or white. Yellow!! a really freaking good yellow!! I wish the yellow ones had actually had the tour dates on them like the black and white ones did but the yellow branding has been pretty exclusive to this leg of tour (i.e. vs the red branding of the west coast one last year) and it looks soooo good with my hair that I don't especially mind. I also knew that Adrian wanted a copy of Caps Lock On, but that he also wanted a shirt, but I hadn't heard back from him about which shirt or what size so I just got the book and my stuff and then bounced. Communique from outside was that Alex had surfaced but no one else, but that Alex had promised appearances by the rest of them, but that also Alex was already gone and unlikely to return by the time I made it outside. I posted up with all my friends from inside, god this was SUCH a good sardine squad this night, and it took some waiting but eventually the promises came true! All the other boys surfaced and we had some REALLY great fan chats and mingling this tiimmmmee. oh my gosh. A guy came with a Modern Bison CD that Jon and Jeremy were really truly overjoyed to see and to sign and take pictures with; I talked to Jeremy about the bracelets some more because he'd been wearing the one I gave him the WHOLE GIG IN NEW YORK SO LIKE THAT'S GONNA BE IN ANY PHOTOS THAT WERE TAKEN PROFESSIONALLY SPEAKING, oh my gosshhh, he was so nice about it and enjoyed that his Arch Jeremy matched my Arch Emily, the vibes were impeccable; and then I got everyone to sign my poster, but of course Alex was gone already, so Jon offers to forge Alex's signature and goes "look it's like this" and draws some loopy scribble on there and I'm like, lmao, sure.

thing was... I had absolutely heard Jeremy signing something for someone else the night before talking about how he was getting really good at forging Alex's signature for him, since I guess it's normal for him to be the one that disappears the sneakiest (god he really is just the Justin Craig of this band, it's 1:1, huh), and so when I told Jeremy this, he was like "I'll do it" and I was like "no Jon did already do it" and he was going to just leave it then, like, oh, well, okay, but then he saw the mess Jon had made and he was like "--that's quite dreadful actually-- the trick is to not overthink it--" and so now my poster has two forged Alex Robertshaw signatures and zero authentic ones. l m f a o. (To be fair, I do have other things they've all four signed, and Jeremy's fake Alex is at least passable, and Jon's fake Alex is Absolute Dogshit Nothing. I am obsessed.) I even got Peter to sign! He was talking with another fan about a gift she'd given them in the past that had sadly been part of what they lost in their studio fire, it was really heartbreaking to hear. He also thanked me again for his bracelet and told me he planned to give it to his daughter and that she would love it. We took a pic together! Pete the GOAT.

While I was making the rounds with the other boys and other fans, Allegra mostly in tow, swapping sharpies among those of us who still had them, Becky was back with Jon, taking a couple videos for people who weren't there in NY to talk about stuff that they were curious about--I think in the context of Maria, Becky said something like, she thinks the hair is crazy, and Jon said into the camera something like, "If you think it's crazy Now, give it like two or three more weeks, and you're really gonna think it's crazy." SIR WHAT. If the blond is a precursor to something else happening I'm gonna be so the opposite of normal about it, and if the bleach is a stepping stone toward the boys dyeing their hair Other colors I am going to be PROFOUNDLY NOT NORMAL ABOUT IT, AND IF ANY MEMBER OF THE MANCUNIAN ROCK BAND EVERYTHING EVERYTHING HAS THEIR HAIR DYED GREEN ANY TIME IN THE NEAR FUTURE I AM GOING TO BE ABSOLUTELY COMPLETELY INSUFFERABLE. tyler the creator unfollow me right now etc. etc. etc. The more I've thought about it I don't THINK this is what's up--my sense is that any Cold Reactor music video is probably already filmed and ready to drop alongside the single pretty quick after the tour ends, rather than being something they're going to film/put together entirely post-tour, so they probably needed the bleachblond for some energy similar to how I felt about them when they first walked on stage in DC, but Oh man...... OH MAN............ I digress. anyway.

following up from that, Allegra (I think? Or maybe still Becky and allegra was just Present) addressed the notion of the hair being related to the Lore, and like, did that mean lore for the single/the upcoming album ? ? which was what we were assuming, and Jon said some demented and ominous and extremely exciting phrase like, "The lore for this one is.... b o t t o m l e s s" in his always-startling real deep Jon voice, and that was the fucking sound bite of the evening, folks. FOLKS. ALLEGRA AND I WENT ALL THE WAY BACK TO HER APARTMENT JUST CONTINUALLY SAYING "THE LORE IS BOTTOMLESS!" my body is so god damn ready.

We bid farewells to all our friends for whom NYC was their final stop on this tour!! SAD!!!!!! Going to miss all the homies T___T it's not fair that we're not just all going to every single stop on this tour I don't think? it should actually be illegal for us not to be present when the band is performing?? the hugest RIP. Hugs exchanged all around. Me trying to say bye to Jon but he's engaged with someone else so I think I just awkwardly said "See you tomorrow" twice and then we left. becky maaaybe trying to last minute scramble to also come to pgh now despite not really having accounted for it in her plans originally ? ? I was not certain what she intended here but I supported her. yes. me, annika and AG for sure being there at least. we ride. Back to allegra's where I did, unfortunately, sleep ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLY/BASICALLY NOT AT ALL due to being so hot and stuffy in my little nest on the floor that it was making me nauseated, I think I got maybe 2.5 hours tops, but I didn't really have a choice because if I wanted to be back home in time to do ANYTHING other than just rock straight over to the queue for Thunderbird then I knew I was going to have to leave so GOD DAMN early in the morning to haul ass back to where my car was and then drive the seven hours to pgh. But I did exactly that!!!! bitch!!!!! Other than some issues like, managing to make a timely pit stop for gas/potty/coffee, I endured the miserable long roadtrip despite myself, raging my way through the poconos, downing the largest cold brew Wawa would sell me, having a truly tragic car vs quesadilla incident, etc. My BFF Francis even got on the phone with me for the last hour or so and we chatted and I got to give them the whole update on the tour thus far, so fun! They MIGHT try to go to the Chicago stop next week!!! if they feel like they can swing it, and I was like ok no pressure but also it's been an extraordinary experience for me thusfar and I highly recommend. So if you see Francis at E E Chicago please holler at them kindly from me!!! :) But at the very least they said they did want a T-shirt and venmo'd me money to buy them one, since I was already still gonna have to get one for Adrian. woooooo

I got home with, yeah, basically exactly enough time to shower, get my outfit together, and regroup before heading to the venue !!! I JUST BARELY missed the bus that would've gotten me there the most promptly, largely due to not being able to find another fucking Sharpie since irving plaza took my first one lmfao, and it ended up being quicker to walk there than to wait the 36 minutes it would've been for another bus or whatever. I still had MEGA travel tummy so I just snagged an apple and scarfed it down on the walk over. Annika was already there queuing! so we hung out in line together and waited and drank the waters we had definitely brought in from outside the bar and just vibed lol. and she was like, I heard them checking two new songs that haven't been in the setlist yet, and I was like ha ha lol like what, and she said, kevin's car and leave the engine room.

and listen, I was optimistic. that my social media obnoxiousness and well-known, easily observable public desires might yet sway them, because come on it's my hometown and it's the last show i'm gonna see on this tour and I sent them donuts, and those were MEANT as a KINDNESS and an ENTHUSIASM FOR DONUTS and not as a bribe, but if anyone wanted to interpret them as a bribe anyway whomst was I to say no, but like. just because I want the band i like to do a thing absolutely does not mean that they have to fucking do it. I want to be crystal clear that i have never at any point EXPECTED them to do this. i just. hoped. yearned in my heart of hearts. and also had very sound rationale for how possible/likely it was. Here's How Engie Room Can Still Win. yfm. but the soundcheck all but confirmed it in my soul for me. and I was like... glad, that she'd been there and caught it and could tell me about it, because it gave me time to like, come to terms with the reality of it, emotionally. AAH. AAAAAHHH, OKAY. BITCH, PLIABLE HEAD, IT'S ALL HAPPENING.

we lingered and watched the queue form behind us-- I spotted a kid I'd seen at the Philly show, god bless. Everywhere we turn, repeat customers. I was telling my work friend today, I feel like the US fanbase for E E is significantly smaller than the UK audience, but we make up for it in that we go fucking hard. Every US fan is a superfan. there are no half-assed american sardines. and that has been so BEAUTIFUL and means the WORLD to me to be sharing it with the other ones of you. Bracelet sharing rocked at this gig!! I had exactly as many as I'd set aside for Pittsburgh and no more, since all my spares had evaporated up at Irving, A new person ALSO HAD BRACELETS!!! LIKE, for realsies Made For Trading At This Show Specifically bracelets, it was suuuuch a delight, so in addition to my eclectic collection from the previous gigs I now also have one that says RAW DATA FEEL with some truly choice glow in the dark bric-a-brac on there as well, and my heart was so warm aaaaaah. fwiendship :) Also spotted in the pre-doors queue were the Pizza Boy costumed guy and a woman I met at Foals in 2019?? who I guess automatically recognizes me because of the green hair, but just. omg. the community!!!! I'm dying!!!!!!

There was a slight will-call kerfuffle that nevertheless did not stop me from being dead center dead at the front right in front of where jonathan's mic was destined to be, and I was like. god. here we go. the home stretch. This was ABSOLUTELY the WORST place to be to be pretending to be interested in pierre's set, because he kept looking straight at me and dog I gotta admit four shows in I was feeling pretty tired. like, the energy of E E Itself was going to fully reinvigorate me, but nearly everything else on the planet was like totally disinteresting and I wasn't really up for it, especially when it's my semi-sex-repulsed ace-spectrum ass being just really put off by the suggestive gyrations of a performer that is not to my tastes. UM SORRY BYE HAHA. they didn't even play the one song I kind of liked. I managed to miss like two and a half songs of his set being still locked in the merch line at least lmao. literally WHILE I WAS STANDING IN THE MERCH LINE they sold out of the yellow shirt and I couldn't get me and francis matchies so I had to get them the black instead :( but thankfully they still had the one Adrian wanted because idk what I would have done if I had to scramble for a plan B with him on short notice haha. and I had EXACTLY enough cash for the two shirts left from the day before and I was paying Tour Manager Sam with it like oh my gosh I'm so sorry this is like my sweaty pocket cash from last night this is kinda gross and she was just like, No actually that's honestly exactly how I've been rolling as well and it is kind of gross so like agreed hahaha. She's the best. Idk how long she'll be tenured to them but I'd love to see her continue to exist in like their coterie moving forward. impeccable vibes.

also used merch waiting as a way to distribute more bracelets and get a drink of water! WOOHOO NOW I AM READY TO RECEIVE MY COMMUNION THANK YOU. they put the setlists down and there was a very small fraction of me that wanted to avert my eyes but like I. I had to know. and annika said yes there are new songs in the list. and I peered into the list and my song was there.

hey guys. hey guys? look, this was for me. I have to be honest with you. i manifested this. by being annoying on twitter. by being god's specialest costume-making donut-gifting bracelet-slinging weirdo. I'm owning it and it's mine. I was exactly EXACTLY right with "well, if they put Engine Room in they'll probably take Leviathan out, because they'd kind of fill the same role of slow moody song in the set, and then they'll probably swap in a different non-Man Alive song to compensate for Engine Room being there instead," and this is exactly what happened, and so then not only did I get Engine Room but I also got REGRET, WHICH IS ALSO AN EMILY THREEPWILLOW PLIABLE HEAD SONG, BECAUSE HERE THESE NERDLORD KINGSHIT BANDBOYS ARE IN MY GODDAMN BACK YARD, they're in my house and god it took me the whole fucking set up to then to just prepare, like I had to try not to think about it so I could enjoy what was right in front of me. God it was so fucking, fucking good. our position along the stage had Alex's stuff REALLY forward in the mix which was kind of new for me, but jon was just right there and every time I lifted my hands to dance and to yearn it was like, the only thing stopping me from touching you is my own sense of propriety and not any kind of physical barrier or distance, and the person immediately behind me was seeing the band for the first time and felt similarly about NOTLK as I did to Engine Room and those two songs were literally back to back in the set so we kind of screamed and cried and died together, I gave her a huge hug, and LOL SORRY NOT SORRY THAT I GOT MY KZ AND LEVIATHAN TAKEN OUT OF THE SETLIST FOR Y'ALL, PITTSBURGH, I DO FEEL KIND OF BAD BUT THIS WAS UMMM IMPORTANT TO ME, THANK YOU, goodbye. goodbye I left the planet. I thought I was going to cry and I nearly did but I didn't, but I did actually maybe start hyperventilating. like I'm glad I knew it was coming ahead of time because if it had been a full surprise I think whatever was happening to my lungs would have been exponentially worse and I may have even fainted.

(which, btw: jonathan. jon. when he came out on stage, he almost immediately got his mic cable caught on the edge of where his setlist was taped down, and in jerking it around, he whipped the setlist up off the floor and way upstage toward where Pete was; when he finally put it to rights and taped it back down, he just left it where it was at, far enough away from me that I definitely could not read it anymore; and like DID YOU DO THAT ON PURPOSE? TO MOVE IT OUT OF MY LINE OF SIGHT, TO MAYBE KEEP ME FROM READING IT? SURELY YOU HAVE TO KNOW THAT I'D ALREADY SEEN IT LIKE 15 MINUTES AGO. NICE TRY BUT IT'S TOO LATE I SAW EVERYTHING. i love him. i'm in physical pain.)

knowing this was my final one, I went so, so, incredibly hard, I let myself dance and mosh and scream and take way more pics and videos than I had before, I leaned on the lip of the stage, I had an absolute fucking blast. When the set was over a few other people who were more strategically positioned (i.e. people who had not had their most easily accessible setlists unceremoniously yoinked several feet away) snatched up the closest ones way quick; there was a general tension in the crowd at being able to see jon's, but it being further away out of reach, and one ballsy-ass kid (the "Kevin" person who'd accompanied the pizza boy person) actually clambored up onto the stage and ninja'd over and took it for himself, which inspired two copycats to do the same for some discarded guitar picks (and all of which definitely provoked a very loud, unimpressed, authoritative barking of "HEY!!!" from some security somewhere, like, they definitely shouldn't have done that!! yikes!!!!). I, instead, very patiently waited for an opportune moment to get the attention of their short king guitar tech as he was running around doing teardown, and someone else flagged him first and got pete's setlist, and in my final moments I got him to get me mike's. Gang, I'm gonna be real with you, I was not leaving my Pittsburgh hometown show in which they played Leave The fucking Engine Room without a setlist. there would've been blood or at the very least tears. so like. thank god lmao. Satisfied, we got some water and then headed out!!!

It was a long, chilly wait for the boys outside--god, the chilliness was REFRESHING, though, it's October for crying out loud, and DC and Philly and NY had all been muggy sweaty hot with no need for even long pants, much less a jacket, but I was glad I'd had the forethought to wear my flannel around my waist to cover up the YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT printed around the ass of my shorts on my walk over to deter questions, lmfao. We easily identified the spot on the side of the venue where we assumed the guys were coming out, it was all just a matter of time. (AG and I getting some confusing-to-parse messages from Becky? Idk my phone was SUPER dying so I was trying to leave it on airplane as much as possible, I didn't even make it to the end of the night, RIP needing to use my map all day in the car and even with it plugged in spending more than I was juicing of the battery. Listen i needed PICS and VIDEOS!!) I saw Jon first, and he almost looked past me before spotting me there because I was pretty close to the corner of the block, and I just stared at him, and said, May I hug you. and he said, of course! and I hugged him so long and so hard just like, thank you, I was extremely emotional then and I'm also getting extremely emotional now just typing about it, and he was like omg haha what for? Coming to your town? and I was like coming to my town and playing my SONG!!! And then he said something with the tone of a snarky teasy joke but that was like flusteringly truthful underneath about them legitimately rearranging the set quite a lot for me, and I have not stopped screaming internally since then, and Jeremy joked that I'd just seen the exact same set three times and they felt they ought to give me at least something new ha ha ha but like it wasn't entirely a joke, and I just don't even know how to process this. i am perishèd in the soil. anyhow.

I wanted both my setlist and my Supernormal EP vinyl signed by all the boys, and I managed this with relatively little doing ("A deep cut!" jeremy remarks of the supernormal, haha), but I didn't want to be crowding them and getting in the way of other people getting lad time, so I kind of took a backseat and just talked when the time was right, but Jon did kind of keep wanting to talk to me. We talked about the new song, and we talked about the donuts I sent over--oh my GOD, because I was like, they're from that place over there, you can see the big neon donut sign from here! haha, and he was like dyou know what, I knew that's where they were from, because I went over there earlier in the day and got one for myself, I got a huckleberry one and I came back with it and everyone was like, what's that, they were very jealous, and then not too long after that this box of loads of them just shows up-- And like I am a donut fairy psychic wizard. Also everyone who is ever in Pittsburgh should go to Oliver's donuts and eat their fabulously good products. I will shill for them literally any day of the week. This is the second band I have given Oliver's to this year. I cannot be stopped. ANYWAY. i honestly almost could have written that prediction on an envelope and sealed it, that they'd end up wandering in there on their own only for me to send them some too. i was so tickled that jon got the huckleberry one because it's their signature flavor and it's SO PINK and allegra and I had just decided the night before that jon higgs is hot pink coded. like, in the universe where they are dyeing their hair multicolors for the lore. anyhow. it's good shit.

i had SO much fun after this show, even though it was so chilly and dark and we were scrungling around on a literal street corner outside a wine and spirits store, I was like holding people's things so they could get pics and signatures, I was showing off my supernormal booty shorts, I was talking to Jon about lore----- ohhh, my god, I had exactly two bracelets left when the night was over, literally the end of my stash, and it was one Final Form FIRST BODY LAST BODY that I said, y'know, I'm going to save this for my bestie francis when I send them the shirt, because that's the lyric I wanna get a tattoo of, and it'll match with my PLIABLE HEAD bracelet, and it'll be another sort of besties matching thing; and my one lone AKON IN THE BUTTERFLY HOUSE bracelet that remained, where I'd kind of said, well, if this one doesn't find the right home tonight, then at the end of the night I'm going to give it to Jon too. So I dug in my bag and passed it off, and he was like "what does this one say.... kon... Akon... Akon in the house--what is--OH AND THERE'S A LITTLE BUTTERFLY ON THERE, God--" and he was GRINNING and he was SO TICKLED BY IT and Jez chimed in with just like "The attention to detail--" and Jon was like "this is my favorite one actually," he LOVED IT AND I WAS SO CHARMED AND EMOTIONAL ABOUT IT, and then he offered me up something like "you kno-ow, this, the song, of this, there's actually a reference to it in something, something you've never heard-- and--that you never will," doing his cryptic Jon troll grin, "the one thing that didn't make it," with the implied end of that sentence being "onto the album," and 'album' in this case being implied to be Raw Data Feel, which they have very publicly said that for once was an album where they just put everything on and didn't cull any songs or reserve any bonus tracks to release later or whatever. So I said, "Oh, from the one that we've been told had no cuts...?" also not explicitly saying RDF, and his answer to that was vague/nondescript enough but was probably an affirmative, but then he did follow that up with "that's lore that's SO far down the line, WAY WAY out there," and god, just, how deep does this man's brain and nonsense even fucking go. how far into the future is there LORE. BOTTOMLESS!!! I am obsessed with him. i cannot stress enough how blorbo he is to me.

The shorts came back up in conversation too ("Sorry, let me just look quite closely at your ass for a moment--" "It's okay, the shorts are designed that way--") and him saying, yeah, we do talk about some of the costumes still, and then segueing into asking if I had plans for this year and what I was doing, and I said, maybe, I'm not sure if I want to tell you, and he said, Is it to do with us, and I said, Neither confirm nor deny, and he said, Well if it's not, then, I want to know, with kind of a 'duh' tone ahahaha because like true there would be no reason to be coy if it was nothing to do with E E at all, and I explained that like I kind of have to have two costumes ("of course you do."), WELL because y'know the E E ones don't really play to or land with the general populace (a very cheeky "No!") so I have, just, one that's for going to parties, and one that's for fucking around on the internet. He seemed to find that acceptable hahaha.

Anyway what I REALLY wanted with wearing the Supernormal shorts was a group pic of all five of us normal frontways, and then a group pic of all five of us facing backward/ass to the camera a la the picture of them outside the White House, where you could see the goof of my shorts but also all of their butts, but this was an ABSOLUTE DISASTER TO DO when it was so dark that phone cameras were taking everything long-exposure, and also they'd all had just enough beer to not really be following on what the bit was. Absolute shit results on the backwards pic because I couldn't, y'know, see to coordinate it, because I had my back turned. (Me yelling, "Not just MY butt, EVERYONE'S butts, come on!!" into the streets of Lawrenceville.) Utter failure. Didn't care. I love these fucking guys. The vibe was finally kind of winding down, closing-time energy, the guys still had to get on the bus to Boston right away even with tomorrow being their day off, it was a Boston day off and not a Pittsburgh day off where I could offer them free ice cream sadly, so they all sort of bowed sweetly out. Jon gave me his like, I Am Part Of The Band clearance ID badge from the venue, kind of out of nowhere, he was like "sorry this is all I have to give you, it's the least I could do," and I was like WHAT DO YOU MEAN, YOU'VE ALREADY GIVEN ME SO M-- YOU COULD DO WAY LESS ??? but I guess now I have that, too. I tried to give him the King Of Oil sign from my fatberg costume, which I'd initially brought because I thought it would be a fun photo taking prop but the photo situation was the aforementioned disaster so that never really came to any fruition at all, so I was just going to gift it to them, and he said "My suitcase is already so full of so much random shit-- that you've given us--" and then right as he was leaving he just said "Thank you for being such a weirdo" with a voice full of all the kindness and affection in the world and I just yelled "ANY TIME!!" and then oh so tragically the night had to be over.

it's been nice, though, because I'm so used to driving the long drive home at the end of an adventure and having that signify the end, of getting to the end of the car ride and having nothing beyond that but the rest of my regular life; and this time, I drove all the way home, but when I got there, the adventure was still happening, right in my neighborhood, right down the street, and all I had to do was walk back home alone in the dark and climb into my own bed at the end of a long and beautiful night. i can already tell that this is going to be one of my most special memories basically forever, and now every time I drive or ride the bus to and from work each day I will be passing by the place where Everything Everything performed Leave The Engine Room for me, and that's so profoundly special that I don't even have words to describe it. I love this band, I love the people in it and I love the people its gravity pulls in to orbit around it, I'm just so goddamn happy. I don't even know what to say or how to end this.

#everything everything #e e #RDF US tour 2023 #this has been a post #jonathan fucking higgs.#god.#they all just like. referred to me plainly by my name a lot more than i was expecting in a way that was overwhelming #like to one another/other people and not just to me directly #i exist???? sounds fake #i will be thinking about this week for a hundred thousand years #my pliable head IS a walking hope thank you so much for NOTICING!!!!!!#pics to follow maybe on here but maybe just on twitter #where I am yes you guessed it @pliablehead if people want to lurk and see #ok fucking goodnight

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smokeys-house · 5 months

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Travel Log 11 + All the Sea's a Stage

Passage from Puukko's Travel Log

Venice dragged me kickin’ n’ screamin’ outta Mestre, or at the very least, I reckon so. That's honestly not very surprising t’ me. I do wonder if my falling ill were my body’s way of reconciling with m’ mind. It seemed t’ work. Regardless, followin’ its workin, so did I, too, start. Workin’ I mean. Fer Arturo, a fellow blacksmith and knife maker. Ye know all this, on account o’ the last entry. What ye may not know is since my betterin’, I've still been workin’ with and for ‘im.

I cleared me head fraught with fright an’ found I really and truly do not know what it is I'm doin’ out here. Difference now bein’ that I've sorta found peace in quiet resignation. I've submitted to the fact I'm miles away from Moominvalley on a fool’s errand, the fool bein’ me. I don't feel tortured by it n’ more. I feel more present here than I did on arrival, hell, maybe more present than I have this whole trip. Exceptin’ when I got shot at, that's nigh on the quickest way back t’ yer wits, if ye been there! Can't say I recommend it in place o’ coffee, though.

Venice is… well it's beautiful. Can hardly pick a spot to sit fer lunch without sighin’ a dreamy sigh. Water everywhere, an’ fine folks about. I find myself wishin’ I could show it to the folks back home. Still missin’ them, if only when I stop fer a bit. I've been wandering streets and stopping in shops, absorbing the local flavor. Exploring is somethin’ I'm keen on, and do well. Seems everybody's got wind in their sails fer the opening of the summer market. Seein’ as how I got grand designs fer that’un, too, I can't say I'm not excited. Spent quite a bit of time tryin’ new things ‘round these parts, but now everybody’s fixin’ to bring out the big guns!

Plan’s set fer tomorrow. Workin’ Arturo’s stall, sellin’ his pieces n’ mine, plus a lil somethin’ on the side for to pay him back in kind. Doubloons’ll make fer a good keepsake fer some I'm sure, an’ I'm quite happy to lighten m’ load.

Watch out, Venice! Puukko's prize-worthy knives are comin’ fer ya!

Signed Puukko

All the Sea's a Stage

Dawn had yet to break as folks of all manner had begun preparing market stalls in the wide open city square. Wagons, tables, tents, and even simple usherette trays surrounded a large central fountain. Draped fabric signs and sandwich boards boasted low prices and rare finds. Amongst the crowd and growing spectacle, Puukko groggily forced herself to set her and Arturo's stall and display. Early mornings hardly ever agreed with her, and by summer's start she'd usually have begun her yearly hibernation. Despite her disposition, she rather enjoyed the crisp morning air sinking into her fur. It reminded her of the cold Lonely Mountains in which she'd made her home.

She opened the large trunk she'd brought with her, and began setting the table with displays and cases, setting out knife after knife on crushed velvet. She nestled her coinpurse in the center, tastefully left open with a smattering of doubloons spilling out of it. As the sun rose from beyond the horizon, it cast a glow through the fountain's watery arches. The tentative quiet hustling of peddlers and purveyors shifted into warm welcomes under the morning's shadows as they baked away. Not being much for words quite yet, Puukko covered her stand with a cloth draped atop it, and set about the market in search of coffee.

Patron after patron shuffled in and shook off their slumber, brimming with excitement for the market's opening day. Despite the early hour, the crowd seemed to grow steadily and unceasingly. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans steaming as they met with hot water reached out from the corner farthest from where she'd set up her stall. She hurried over, but the line had already formed. As she took her place in wait, she found a distinct sense of unease.

“I've managed crowds larger than this'un… s’ what gives?” She thought to herself. “New place and new faces, but this feels quite like somethin’ else.”

She looked about the area, her head on a swivel. The line ahead of her shimmied along as each guest received their morning elixir. She noted who was armed, and with what, but only saw a scant few chore knives. She looked again for any sign of strangeness and found only that everything was as it seemed, though she still could not shake the anxiety that had taken hold within her chest. She paid for her coffee and a small baked treat to nibble on, heading back over to her stall. Of the variety of customers and sellers in attendance, Puukko was among the tallest, though not alone in that fact. Her head stuck out above most others in the crowd, and she navigated the sea of people with a fair bit of ease despite her round shape and size.

The earthy and near chocolatey aroma of her coffee seemed to stymy the feeling tugging at her stomach on into the afternoon, and a busser came by for her mug and plate. The cool morning gradually became a warm day as she spoke with countless customers all seeking something different, yet the same at the end. Some wanted knives for cooking, others for hunting, daily tasks, and so on. Both her pieces and Arturo's sold in near equal quantity, and for a small fee, she'd wrap each in a drawstring bag with a doubloon carefully placed inside.

The excitement and energy of it all was matched in quality only by its peaceful nature, and in quantity by how much it seemed to unnerve Puukko. She found much to enjoy about the day, meeting new people and sharing stories here or there, though the prickly sensation of anxiety continued to creep back in no matter how many times she pushed it away. It proved to be a fearsome foe.

It was only a few hours after noon, and she'd nearly run out of stock. With only a few knives left on the table, she became restless. She searched the faces of the crowd, considering whether to pack it in early or hold out till she found new owners for all of her knives. It was then that she noticed an oddity. Something was out of place, and for the first time since the day began, she could put a finger on it. She saw from afar, a man with a particular style keeping his eyes on her dutifully.

He wore a long blue coat with large gold buttons atop a plain, but considerably old fashioned style of shirt. Atop his head was a red kerchief tied neatly at the back in the form of a cap, aside which dangled from his ears, two large gold hoops. The man had a mustache that curved into two sharp points, and was otherwise cleanly shaven. His striped slops tucked neatly into his tall boots, and above all else, he wore a sword and pistol at his waist. This was no ordinary citizen of Venice, this was a pirate. Puukko's heart unsteadied, as the image of the man appeared suddenly and as though ripped right from her past. Given what she'd been through the past months, she entertained the idea that it was a hallucination. She chanced a glance and turned her head to match his distant gaze, and just as soon as she'd seen him and he'd seen that she had, he walked off with purpose.

Puukko's mind bombarded her with thoughts. Had she been discovered by an old foe? Was she getting sick again? Did pirates still dress like that? She decided against pursuing him, figuring it to be for the best if she wasn't involved in old habits.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?” A voice broke through the din of the crowd, startling Puukko’s ears.

“Oh, uh. Yes, I'm fine.” She shook her head free from thought. “Anywho, how can I help you?” The thought of the pirate she'd seen gnawed at her. She was frozen much like she was in Mestre, poisoned by the gap between action and folly. She'd spent long enough playing the hero and the villain, but the consequences of her past felt more obvious and pointed in Venice.

“That's enough, Puukko. You've done enough. Don't ruin this, too. Ye don't need to be at the center o’ all the world's mischief.” She thought to herself with a heavy sigh. She continued peddling knives, half heartedly hoping for some direction. Either something would drag her back to Arturo's shop, or something would plunge her straight into trouble.

For a while, it seemed as though the excitement had died completely. She'd sold everything she'd brought, save for a few small pieces. With the market still lively, she'd decided upon packing it up for the day. The market would be waiting for her tomorrow, and she'd made enough to pay Arturo back for his kindness. She turned around, setting her earnings aside. Just then, she heard someone approach alongside a clinking of coins. She turned just in time to see a man grabbing her bag of doubloons from the table. He snatched the bag and began to sprint, only making it a short distance before Puukko leapt over the counter. Her massive form tackled him to the ground, sending gold coins scattering along the cobblestone.

“What in blazes do y’ think yer doin’ robbin’ an old woman like that?!” She shouted, pinning him to the ground with one paw and her knee.

“Run!” The man she tackled yelled past her.

Just the other side of her stall, a pirate rose with the strongbox containing today’s earnings. He began blazing through the crowd, swiftly toward one of the exits of the square. Puukko was enraged. Her money being stolen was one thing, but the money of the man who offered her a place to stay was another entirely. She stumbled to her feet off the pirate she'd stopped prior, and gave chase.

“Stop! Ye thievin’ bastard!” She struggled through the now alarmed bystanders, trying carefully not to bowl anyone over with her large frame. Her quarry was lithe and thin, capable of dodging past any would-be do-gooders that attempted to stop him. He climbed atop crates and over barrels with ease, all while carrying the box of money. Once through the thick of the crowd, she could finally run at her full speed. She made much headway toward him, nearly catching up. It seemed as though he was running toward the edge of town, nearest the port. Just as they turned the last corner between them and the docks, the pirate turned and readied his pistol, aiming it at Puukko. As she rounded the corner she stepped back seeing his gun, flattening herself against the wall for cover. The man pointed his pistol in the air, and fired. The resounding bang echoed throughout the streets.

The sound faded, accompanied by the pirate's boots striking the stone as he continued running. Puukko peeked around the corner, and upon seeing his fleeing once more, gave chase again. Moored in the harbor was an elegant and boldly painted frigate, she was maroon with ornate details in black and gold. A large crowd surrounded her, mostly average townsfolk, and atop the deck, several pirates were ready to welcome their fellow who'd snatched Puukko's money. He forced his way through the gathered crowd, across the gangway and aboard the ship. Puukko followed cautiously behind, parting the crowd with purpose.

“I come fer what's mine, and fer that alone!” She shouted as she crossed the gangway, approaching three armed men standing in the center of the ship's deck. “This don't need t’ be naught but a quick exchange o’ pleasantries.”

“A quick exchange it will be, Captain Whetstone.” The pirate in the center said. He inspected the money within the strongbox one of the other men held open for him.

“But no’ a pleasant one.” One of the other crewmen said, scowling. The tallest pirate, seemingly the man in charge, set Puukko's strongbox aside. He readied his cutlass idly, preparing a cautious approach.

“At arms, men!” The tall man said. The resounding sound of steel rang as each of the men present drew his sword. Pirates poured out from below deck, keeping their distance and lining the railings of the ship. Puukko reached for her knife, only able to reach the grip before a sword was pointed at her throat.

“Tsk tsk tsk… Hardly a weapon befitting a legend, Whetstone.” He rammed his cutlass into the deck just before her, backing away to draw the one resting at his waist. “Go on. It's all yours.”

She kept one eye on the cadre of pirates within the center of the semicircle drawn by the men lining the rails. She wrapped her paw around the grip of the sword, deftly plucking it from the wood of the deck. It'd been some time since she'd held a sword she hadn't made herself. It felt clumsy, but not unusable. She held it in front of her face, and gave a duelist’s greeting. She took in her surroundings, and for a brief moment, felt a stillness she hadn't in an age. The scent of the sea mingled with the aroma of oiled steel and anticipation. The longing, nagging sense that had become so familiar faded in an instant.

“D’ya reckon you'll make history today, boys?” Captain Whetstone said. “Or d’ya reckon you'll become it?” She paused a moment, awaiting any response.

Whetstone proceeded to charge at the man she presumed to be their leader with her sword low, and he raised his to counter it. She batted it aside, quickly closing the distance and striking him in the chest with the butt of her sword. He faltered in pain, and as he attempted to regain his balance she threw him hard to the ground.

As the first man tumbled, the second approached from behind with his blade raised high. She heard his approach and intercepted it behind her back, whirling around to deliver a powerful punch to his gut. He sputtered a moment, unable to recover from the wind being knocked out of him as Puukko shoved him to the ground as well. In mere moments, she'd felled two men without bloodshed. The gathered crowd of tourists, presumably here to see a historic ship docked at the harbor, got much more than they bargained for. Hoots and hollers overlapped with gasps of shock and awe.

She turned to the third man from the main group, the one who stole the chest in the first place. She stomped over, intense and slow. “So what’ll it be?” She growled. “There's more'an one reason I'm still alive. Better start thinkin’ on why those two still are.” She motioned with her sword to the men on the ground as she continued her swagger.

“What are you lot doing?! Get her!” The third man shouted as he backed away. Several of the men lining the railings ran in, battle cries emanating from each. Whetstone feinted a high cut against the first man to close the distance, instead reaching for her opponent's wrist as he attempted to guard against it. She twisted his arm, tripping him as she took his sword in her off hand. The men began to encircle her, but her speed and size made her a veritable cannonball on the battlefield. She kicked the nearest man she could in the chest, knocking him back into his fellows. As he tumbled back, she dashed out of the circle, letting loose a flurry of ferocious attacks with her swords. She had no intention of killing, nor even maiming the men, she was careful that her cuts all met steel instead of flesh.

“Halt, men! And hold fast!”A voice boomed from somewhere above, from a yardarm on the mainmast. “Avast, ye, Captain Whetstone. For you find yourself on the ship of the star of the seven seas, Mary the Razor!”

“Who?” Whetstone looked up, seeing a figure standing proudly and obscured, back-lit by the sun. The fighting ceased, the pirates that had surrounded her began backing away.

“I've known many names. O, ye who would know me as the daughter of the Cane King, know me no longer! For I no longer live in his shadow, but bask serenely in yours!” The figure swung from a rope, landing with a stylish roll onto the deck. She flipped the dark, curly hair that spilled out from beneath her feathered tricorn back over her shoulder and drew her sword. A fillyjonk woman, dressed in deep, royal blue. She held her sword aloft, the point hanging delicately in front of Whetstone's snout. It was ornate, and decorated with sapphires that matched her outfit.

“Marion..?” Puukko dropped her defensive stance, slack-jawed.

“‘Tis I! Mary the Razor, Pirate Queen!” The fillyjonk winked as she performed. She turned her blade edge up and drew back. “Taste steel, you blaggard!”

The crowd cheered as she swung at Puukko, several flashy cuts intercepted by her cutlasses. Puukko deflected a swing at her shoulder, but did not follow up. She instead bound her sword against Mary's, leaning in to have words.

“What the hell are you doing, Marion?” Puukko asked with a concerned whisper.

“Play along, I'll explain after!” Marion whispered loudly. She gave Whetstone a reassuring smile before throwing her weight into the bind, pushing hard against Puukko's guard. “I've got you, now, fiend!” She switched back into character with ease.

Puukko, confused and in awe, attempted to reassess the situation. She noted the relative ease with which the men she threw flew great distances, the fact that they'd all gotten up and out of the way when Mary interrupted, and finally she noted the sword she held against Mary's did not seem to bite into the other the way a sharp blade would. She smiled with warmth she had not beheld for years, and felt reinvigorated. She backstepped a fair distance, tossing one sword above her with a flip and catching it. She smirked as she rushed back into distance with Marion, swinging both swords at her side. Marion caught both with grace, twirling as she pushed them aside. Marion's footwork was elegant and dainty, but fully assured and confident.

Marion threw cut after cut at Puukko, sparks flying off of their blunted swords as they met. They danced on the deck together, neither of them seeming to have advantage over the other. Their blades flurried with panache, each completely lost in the art of combat, and both wearing a distinct and visible fondness for the other. The bout lasted longer than any either had faced before, and was as rife with passion as it was complexity. After much swordplay, Marion thrusted dead center, forcing Puukko to append her cutlasses in defense.

“Surrender!” Mary said, her blade being held back by Whetstone's two, her free hand behind her and away with flamboyant bravado. “You've met with certain defeat!”

Whetstone bound her swords to Mary's, barely able to abate the force of her thrust. She took one step to the side, throwing her left sword into the deck, it sticking out a few feet away with a twang as it flexed from the force. Whetstone pushed Mary's sword into the strong portion of her own blade, against the guard.

“I reckon I have.” Whetstone reached up with her now empty paw and forced Mary's hat down over her face, shoulder checking her with gentle force. Marion's hat tumbled to the deck, and as she regained her composure, Whetstone placed her paw on the small of her back and swooped her down for a kiss, casting both hers and Marion's sword aside. Some in the crowd applauded loudly, as others shared confused looks with one another. The crew aboard the ship began to bow, some firing pistols and cannons into the air and cheering.

“I never thought I'd see you again.” Puukko spoke quietly, gazing into her lover's eyes.

“And I always knew you would.” Marion countered with a smile.

–

“I can hardly believe it. After all these years, I cannot believe it's really you!” Puukko set her cup of coffee back on its saucer. Below the deck of Marion's ship was a comfortable if somewhat gaudy atmosphere. The walls were littered with a smattering of what the modern mind would attribute to a stereotypical pirate, and though aboard a ship, many loose knick knacks and bottles sat upon shelves or against walls. An array of cushions were laid about small tables, alongside stools and chairs surrounding larger tables and counters. Rich reds and buttery golds set against rustic yet polished wood, and atop it all, a variety of lights enough to give the whole area a comfortably dim warmth. Puukko sat across from the love she'd thought she'd lost, as the crew walked about freely handling this or that.

“Captain, I…” Marion's eyes began to well up with tears.

“Don't ye start with that, else I will too!” Puukko smiled wide. It felt odd for her. “‘sides, not yer captain n’ more! Ain't even got me own ship.”

“There was a time I thought you dead.”

“An’ I, you. Though, I guess on yer end that were my own doin’. I did fake m’ own death. Or somethin’ like that I s’pose. Sorry about that…” Puukko fiddled, turning her cup around repeatedly on its plate.

“I– or I mean, we, did eventually find out what happened to you. What you did for us. But by then, no one was sure where you'd gone. Or if you'd survived out on your own. After that, it just… fell apart. Some of the crew came with me for a time, but everyone eventually made peace with the freedom you'd bought them in exchange for the freedom you'd given them at sea. Most decided to honor you by living the lives you'd saved for them.”

“If'n you'll allow me t’ speak truth, I don't deserve all that. I did it fer you, Marion.” The two of them sat in solemn silence for a moment as the ship bobbed idly in the harbor. “So… yer not actually still a pirate, I reckon?” Puukko asked, cocking her head to the side.

“No, we're uh, mostly involved in shipping goods and things of that nature…” Marion looked away.

“We're a traveling themed restaurant!! We do live theater!” A passing crewmember offered as he passed the table, walking off to another room.

Marion blushed, her face turning bright red as she attempted to hide her embarrassment. “Thank you, Marcus, very helpful!” She sarcastically shouted back to him before palming her face.

“No problem Miss M!” Marcus gave a thumbs up from behind the open doorway.

“That's Captain! Captain M! Oh, he can't hear me now…” Marion said, still hiding from Puukko's gaze.

Pukkko couldn't help but laugh at the exchange. She wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, that explains the furniture. And the crowd.”

“Do you like it? It's all weighted or nailed down so as not to fall during shows and while the guests are eating. Though, it does make it more difficult to pack up when we sail. The cushions and low tables are for guests with poor balance, and– Ah, I'm sorry, you don't need to hear all that. I'm just glad to have you back.”

“No, please,” Puukko held Marion's paw with both of her own. “Tell me everything.” She listened intently, growing more smitten with each detail Marion excitedly shared with her.

Puukko and Marion spent the next several hours together, making up for lost time. Then, they spent the next several days together, too. They sailed and performed along the Italian coast. They performed fearsome displays of swordplay within the lines of a play Marion had written for them long ago, and in the evenings they performed silly cliché pirate songs to immerse their dinner guests. They spent almost every hour of every day with one another, sharing everything they'd missed after so many years. It was nearing midsummer, and despite the past few days being a dream come true, the two began to feel ill at ease.

“Hey, Koko.” Marion smiled at Puukko. She was just beginning to wake, early in the morning. “There's something we need to talk about.”

“If it's about my acting, I'm workin’ on it!” She laughed as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Marion's bed was quite large and comfortable, though it took up most of her cabin.

“We're planning on heading back out to sea. The Mediterranean. We'll be sailing out to Greece, next, I believe.”

“I see.” The gears in Puukko's head began to turn. She didn't want this to end, but knew from the start it would have to. She couldn't abandon Moominvalley.

“I was hoping you'd come with us. You're a living legend, and it'd really help draw a crowd.” She held back all that she'd wanted to say.

“Ye don't be needin’ Captain Whetstone to stay afloat.” She gave a half-hearted smile. “Yer a sight to behold all yerself. As much as I want to go with you lot, I… I can't. It wouldn't be right. To the folks back home, and to you. I uprooted ya when we first met, then did it again when I died.”

“Puukko…”

“I can't keep clippin’ wings, lass. I'm an anchor. I'm grapeshot through the mainsail. If I let go of Moominvalley now, I'd never forgive m’self.”

“I understand.” Marion laid back down, staring at the ceiling. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The rolling of the waves was peaceful, though both their minds were not. The silence seemed to stretch on and on.

“I've got a house.” Puukko offered weakly, breaking the silence with a start.

“In Moominvalley?”

“Mhm.” Puukko nodded. “In the mountains. Can't see the sea from most of it, save fer if ye head up on the tower. I used t’ go up there ‘n think about you.”

“Wait, tower?”

“It's a moomin thing, don't ask.” She chuckled. “It's good country, Marion. Lots of folk down in the valley leadin’ strange and loveable lives. They count me among ‘em, I reckon. It's beautiful, and peaceful, and–” She hesitated. “and lonely.”

“I see… It sounds beautiful.”

“It could be our home. Together.” She shook her head from side to side, already knowing the answer Marion would give. She knew inside that she could not take Marion away from all of this, but she felt that she needed to make the failed attempt to fully understand.

“I cannot go with you, Puukko. I fell in love with the sea as much as I did you all those years ago. She is deep and unfathomable. Unknowable in her entirety.” She sighed. “She's constant and endless… but I am not. Her waves always return to the shore. She'll always be there, but I won't. One day I'll grow too old to sail, and I fear it sooner every day.” Her voice began to tremble slightly. “But when that day comes, I'll find you. And without that dread and grief you've felt this whole time, you'll have grown again. And you'll have grown apart from me for the first time since we met. You'll be a woman anew. And I can fall in love with you all over again.” Tears streamed from her eyes. She held onto Puukko by the arms, looking her in the face with a weak smile. “Can you do that for me, Captain? Can you be my shore to break upon once my time as a wave has ceased?”

“I… I reckon I can.” She squeezed Marion tight to her chest in an embrace. The weight of grief borrowed from a goodbye soon to come weighed heavy on her, but for the time being, she chose to carry it while enjoying the time she still had with her beloved.

#Whetstone's whispers #moomins #moomin oc #i just realized all the formatting and italics and stuff got reset when moving it onto here #im not gonna go through and fix that #now im mad

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atombonniebaby · 9 months

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I've had this idea in my head for a while now...

We all know how much Mac hates getting wet so how would he react when faced with the prospect of a "new" New Year's tradition introduced by his Scottish boss?

The original plan was screenshots, but I had to do a write up!...so maybe today I'll get some proper visuals...but for now I hope you enjoy this silly one shot! (And if anyone wants to do some drawings...I'd love to see some of this hilarity brought to life 🫶)

just so we're clear...Deacon's swimsuit depicted below is 100% what I Invision them all wearing variations off...because...why not? 🤣 (Oh...but not Hancock and Danse...you'll see!)

Happy New Year Tumblr Buddies! Slainte Mhath!❤️

Here's to new Wasteland Traditions

"You can't be serious..." MacCready searched the boss' face. Shit-eating grin aside, there was not a single sign of a lie.

"I'm tellin' ye lad... every year without fail... rain or shine." Nate sat down on the couch beside his young companion. "Sometimes even snow." He added after a brief pause.

"So you're telling me you dressed up and—”

"Dressing up was optional... traditionally ye just shed to yer kegs and run right in."

"Run into water?"

"Cauld, sobering, icy waters."

"I guess you Scots really are crazy," MacCready chuckled to himself, "or you're full of Brahmin crap."

"Oi," Nate elbowed him. "It's real. On the day o' the new year, we'd head tae the shore, and strip to our undergarments and bolt intae the sea. 'Tis invigoratin', got the blood pumpin' in a way nothing else did. I dinnae even reckon bein' chased by a Deathclaw could get me heart goin' as fast as that did."

MacCready laughed at the mention of the oversized lizard. "Running from a deathclaw is different. You know you'll die if you lose, running into the ocean is just stupid."

"Hypothermia is nae joke, lad... and it didnae need to be an ocean... could be a river... ye know... like that one that runs aroon' Sanctuary..."

There was something in the way the Scot was talking that made MacCready nervous. That sparkle in his eye was never a good sign. "Not on your life!”

Nate's grin only grew wider. "Oh c'mon! Ye'd be the only one bein' a wee rad-chicken! Preston, Sturges, Codsworth, the settlers around Sanctuary…and even Dugmeat all want tae do it."

"Right... and Dogmeat told you that how, exactly? Did he write it out on the dirt using a stick?"

Nate gave a belly laugh at that. "Gave me a paw."

"You are full of it." MacCready shook his head. "No way in hell am I doing this."

"No even for five hundred caps?”

"Five hundr--" MacCready choked on his words.

"Counted them maself... put them in a nice big jar ...but there is a catch... last man standin' ...or lady... gets it!"

MacCready groaned. This was stupid, beyond stupid, but the caps..."Fine."

"Attaboy!”

Sanctuary Hills Annual Loony Dook.

MacCready stared at the painted ply board sign as if it was personally insulting him. Perhaps it was. If it hadn't existed, he wouldn't have been standing out in the rain.

He glanced at the plastic blue pins of Rad-X piled up in the little shed next to the sign, blankets too. Nate was prepared for everything.

MacCready's laugh was almost incredulous. "Is that why you've been hoarding all the supplies!? Because you were planning this stupid event!?"

Nate laughed in response. "Notice that did ye?"

MacCready sighed. "How can I not notice!?"

"I hardly want folks getting sick from radiation poisoning while they're havin' fun. Now, c'mon, come help me welcome our guests," Nate elbowed him in the ribs before gesturing to the rest of Sanctuary.

"Fine!”

"Let's get the show on the road," Nate smiled, marching off toward the gates where the majority of the settlers were gathered.

"Hey, Blue!” Piper called out to them as they approached.

"Ah, monsieur! It is quite the spectacle you are throwing here today," Curie said as the two came to a stop. "I must say, I am rather excited to try this 'dooken' as you call it. The effects of immersion in such cold temperatures will be most fascinating!"

"Ye'll love it, lass," Nate replied.

"Where the Frick did you get bathing suits?" MacCready asked her, noticing the bright pink ruffled one piece she was wearing.

"As it turns out," Piper began. "Curie has a remarkable sewing ability...she even made something for you..."

"You made me something...?"

MacCready would have blushed if it weren't for how cold he was, the likelihood of any color filling his cheeks was slim to none–even with all his layers!

Curie nodded enthusiastically. "Wi, Monsieur Nate provided me with a list of attendees!"

He did what?

"Here you go!" She handed him a bundle of striped green and white fabric.

"Thanks... I think." MacCready looked at it skeptically. It was a one-piece suit of sorts. Not unlike what the girl was wearing, but with longer legs.

"Deacon's is blue and white, Preston also, but different shades! They look most handsome!"

"Why thank you, ma'am," Deacon appeared behind the doctor. "I think you look very dashing yourself."

"Merci!"

He looked ridiculous, a similarly striped suit to the one in MacCready’s hands, he guessed the red cape was his own addition.

"This IS most invigorating," followed another voice, this time belonging to a smiling tin can.

"Danse...lad..." Nate paused. "Do ye no think that's cheatin', son?"

The ex-Brotherhood Paladin just shrugged. "On the contrary, General. Without the appropriate protective clothing, my Power Armor provides no protection from the elements."

"Without protective—are you telling me you're in your birthday suit under there!?" MacCready blurted out.

Danse simply nodded. "Affirmative."

"General, your friend from Concord has arrived...and he brought company," Preston joined the fold, Minutemen blue in his bathing suit, and still wearing his hat.

"Jacob is here!?" Nate sounded more excited than he intended.

The group glanced at each other.

"Who's Jacob?" Piper asked after him.

Nate just waved her off.

"Does our good General have a secret to share?" A gravelly voice asked from behind them.

"John," MacCready turned to face the ghoul and he couldn't help it. His eyes dropped lower.

What the actual fuck!? Could that even be considered clothes? Red leather Speedo, cowboy boots and his signature hat...that was all he was wearing.

"My eyes are up here, kid," Hancock grinned as the younger man realized what he was doing.

"Wha--I wasn't—"

"You were," Hancock's smile turned into a smirk.

"Well ain't this quite the gatherin' and you thought people would pass up the opportunity for tradition!" Another accent entered their midst.

"I'm only here for the caps...got my eye on a new mod for my rifle," another familiar face pushed through the throng of bodies.

"Aiden's here too?" MacCready muttered under his breath. The ex-minuteman Gunner hunter didn't seem to know where to look as he came to a stop.

"Gotta say, Slick, you got a lotta people who care about ya," Jake leaned against the wooden railings of the bridge.

"Well, ain't you a handsome one!"

MacCready's smile widened. Cait!?

"Uh...thanks..." Aiden mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I uh...I'm just gonna..."

"Don't take it personally, darlin'," Jake smiled. "Aiden's not much for conversation."

"Who else are we expecting, Monsieur?” Curie asked.

"Nick's around, he's keepin' Dugmeat busy so folks can get ready and I do believe Strong is off huntin' fer our supper," Nate answered.

"Splendid! Would your boyfriend like a costume, Monsieur?”

"Boyfriend!? I—"

Nate cleared his throat.

"Thank ya, darlin'," Jake smiled at the doctor. "Much appreciated."

"Hey, Sharpshooter!"

MacCready froze. No...fuck no...he didn't hear that. He refused to turn around and look.

"Mac?"

No.

"MacCready!"

"Beau..." the mercenary reluctantly turned.

Fuck! Sturges was wearing one of those swimsuits too, and the size of him. It was...indecent.

"Howdy," Sturges tipped his head and smiled.

MacCready was dead, dying, or just having some incredibly vivid hallucination. No way. Just fucking no.

"What's wrong?"

"I'd harbor a guess our Merc here is wondering how you can fix his plumbing," Hancock chimed in.

"I—"

"Think he's wondering if your equipment is up to the task," Deacon added.

"That is most absurd," Curie commented. "Sturges is a mechanic, not a plumber."

"A certified handyman," Piper giggled.

"Shut the fu—uh heck up!"

Hancock snorted.

"That's enough...quit teasin' the poor lad." Jake stepped in to defend him.

"Yeah, lay off the kid." Nick Valentine decided to join them, standing by Nate's side, no swimsuit for him...it was almost like he was programmed to wear nothing but his detective gear. "You know how sensitive he is."

MacCready felt like he was about to spontaneously combust.

"I'm gonna go change before I get the urge to shoot someone." MacCready stormed off.

"Someone's touchy," Cait noted.

"More like he can't handle the heat," Hancock countered.

"You should probably change as well," Nick suggested to the newcomer. Knew the fella from all the times he stopped by that information broker who had taken up residence in Diamond City. "The Ron"? Or something like that.

"Right you are, Mister Valentine," Jake agreed. "I will be right back."

"So polite! Monsieur Jacob makes a most agreeable guest," Curie smiled.

"I know, right! He's a peach." Piper grinned. "Got yourself a good one there, Blue."

"No foolin' you lot, is there?” Nate just laughed. "C'mon, we might as well get a move on. It's comin' up to noon soon."

MacCready stood in front of the bathroom mirror. It took him a few minutes to figure out how to put the damned thing on. It was too tight in some places, yet hung awkwardly from his body.

At least his hat matched, because it was staying on.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts.

"You got lost in there?” Jake's voice carried through the wooden door.

"Just give me a second!"

"Alrighty..."

A few deep breaths, and MacCready was good to go.

"Not a word...not a single freaking word!"

Jake held his hands up and took a step back. "Wouldn't dream of it."

MacCready stomped past the engineer and back towards the group.

"Christ, and I thought I was pasty... lookin' at ye, it's like a white sheet slapped 'er a skeleton."

MacCready glared daggers at the smug looking bastard and wished he had his rifle. How is this bastard not shivering? MacCready could barely keep himself from trembling, and he's standing there, barefoot with no shirt on. Only thing he has on is a pair of red plaid trunks and his glasses.

"Har har... can we get this over with already?"

Nate grinned from ear to ear. "Ye sound like ye don't wanna do this."

"Oh? What gave it away?" MacCready crossed his arms across his chest, the cool air and heavy rainfall chilling his skin.

"All the shivering, mate," Nate gestured to him. "Ye need to move...maybe jog on the spot...keep the blood pumpin'...else ye won't make it tae the end."

MacCready growled at him. "Can you stop patronizing me and just start the damn thing already!?”

Nate looked around the group, taking stock of each person involved. There was a gathering now, a relatively small crowd, but the amount of people willing to participate was surprising.

"Sir..."

Nate near on jumped out of his skin. "Where the blasted hell did you come from!?"

X6-88 lowered his sunglasses and blinked at him. "I arrived via relay at 1200 hours, sir. I was ensuring the young sir was adequately prepared for the festivities."

"Dad?” Shaun emerged from behind the courser.

"Shaun?" Nate was utterly confused. "What are you doing here?"

"Father heard you were hosting an event and thought I should attend," Shaun smiled.

The sight of him. Pajamas, Welly boots and a rain hat, standing beside X6-88 in his ...everything black bathing suit. MacCready's sides ached. He was laughing, unable to control the burst of hysteria that bubbled within him.

"Escaped synths will be shaking in their boots," MacCready managed to wheeze out.

"I believe Ms Curie has made an adequate fit for me... sir," X6-88 said in reply.

It was the boots, the damned combat boots! MacCready laughed louder.

"I do not believe you are in a position to be mocking me, Sir. If my calculations are correct, you have a higher chance of being affected by hypothermia due to your lack of body fat and muscle mass. Perhaps you should reconsider abstaining from the use of cigarettes and alcohol, it would improve your health immeasurably."

MacCready stopped laughing. "Did you just..."

"I believe the term is 'kicking while he's down,' sir."

"A'right...enough eh that." Nate stepped in.

If MacCready didn't know better, he'd have thought the courser was smirking at him from beneath those glasses.

"First things first," Nate opened the shed. "Take a couple rad-x tabs each...Codsworth is gonnae countdown from ten and ring the bell...when he does, ye run in. Simple as that. The last person out wins the prize. We've got fires burning, food grilling and booze on tap...so enjoy yerselves, aye?"

MacCready pulled his cap lower over his brow. This was going to suck.

"Let the games begin," Hancock shouted.

"Okay!" Nate announced. "Everyone in their positions. Codsworth, get ready to count us down, son!"

"As you wish Master Nate!" The Mr. Handy spun in place.

MacCready rolled his shoulders, trying to get the stiffness out of them. He could do this. He had to win. Five hundred caps were on the line.

The merc watched the crowd gather around the water's edge, everyone ready to make a break for it as soon as the robot started counting.

"Are we ready to commence the New Year's celebrations, sir?"

"Aye Codsworth." Nate smiled.

"Very good, sir. I shall begin the countdown now…Ten!"

This was it.

"Nine!"

MacCready bent his knees, ready to sprint.

"Eight!"

A quick glance left and right, and he noticed all the other competitors were doing the same.

"Seven!"

His eyes locked with Nate's, and the bastard winked at him.

"Six!"

Was he planning something?

"Five!"

The sniper shook his head.

"Four!"

He could beat Nate. He's hardy...grew up in a cave!

"Three!"

Focus, Robert. Just focus.

"Two!"

He was doing this for Duncan.

"Happy New Year, everyone! GO!!!”

He couldn't do this.

MacCready darted in the opposite direction as the rest of them.

"Ye wee bastard!" Nate shouted after him.

Fuck you, old man! He was out of there.

"Not on ma watch, laddie," Nate's footsteps pounded after him.

Shit, shit, shit.

"Stay the heck away from me!”

"Och, quit bein' such a rad-chicken!" Nate sped up.

MacCready's heart was racing, and he wasn't sure if it was from running or the adrenaline pumping through his veins. Either way, he needed to outrun the bastard.

"Ye're slowin' down!"

"Like hell I am!" MacCready shouted back at him.

Suddenly, there were arms wrapped around him.

"Got ye! Now intae the drink we go!" Nate lifted him off the ground and over his shoulders.

MacCready struggled in vain. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance! Ye're goan in!”

The world moved in slow motion. He could see Nate's feet running over the grass and dirt as he neared the water's edge. People were cheering, and dogs were barking.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!"

Nate dove forward, releasing his grip on the merc, and they plunged into the icy cold waters below.

For a moment, MacCready floated through the murky depths. Then, he kicked upwards, breaking the surface of the water with a gasp.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Duncan forgive him! MacCready flailed as the frigid temperature of the water hit him. "It's freezing!"

"Aye, it's a wee bit nippy," Nate said calmly, swimming beside him. "Just breathe...in and oot."

"Breathe!?" MacCready screamed at him. "I'd rather—holy shi--"

"See, now ye're gettin' it," the older man was grinning like a madman.

"I'm going to kill you!"

"No if ye freeze...flap yer haunds aboot a bit..."

"C'mon, Mac! Dad knows what he's talking about!” Shaun called from the bankside.

"Your father is insane!" MacCready pointed at the boy.

"Our father!" Shaun smiled and gave him a double thumbs up.

What?

"Get it together, son!" Nate splashed water in his face. "Ye can do this."

MacCready growled and splashed him back. "I hate you."

Nate laughed. "C'mon...I can tell ye're getting used to it."

"I hate you so much," he swung his arms forward, moving them through the water.

"Nah, ye don't...if ye did, ye wouldn't be here now," Nate swam close to him. "It's just water...it cannae hurt ye."

MacCready glared at him. "I'm not..."

"Course not...yer the toughest son of a bitch I know..."

"Tougher than you?"

Nate's grin grew wider. "Guess we'll see."

"Bring it on, Old Man," MacCready's shivering subsided as he kept moving.

"Enough eh the "old" talk..."

"You're over 200...that's old..."

"That doesny count..."

"Says who?"

"Says me!" Nate ducked under the water, and MacCready braced himself for the inevitable.

A sudden tug on his foot, and the merc dropped beneath the surface. The shock of cold hit him once more, and he clawed his way to the top.

Nate surfaced and shook his head like a dog, somehow the glasses on his fat head still stayed on.

"Fun, ain't it?"

"How are you not frozen?" MacCready was panting now.

"Been dookin' since I was a wee lad," Nate answered. "The cauld...it's in ma blood."

MacCready cursed under his breath. "Sure, whatever you say."

Nate just laughed in response. "Another one down..."

"Huh?"

"Seems Piper's given up."

MacCready glanced around. Sure enough, the reporter was making her way back to shore.

"She's smart," the merc remarked.

"Ye did good, lass!” Nate shouted after her.

"Thanks, Blue," she waved before wrapping herself in the towel Codsworth had waiting for her.

"Woo...goddang I can't feel my digits!" Jake's voice cut through the chill in the air.

"Here's hoping your tongue is next..." Aiden drawled.

MacCready chuckled at the snide remark.

"Ma chère, this is most invigorating!" Curie was just... standing there in the water.

"That's one way of putting it," Piper pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

"I can't...I'm out...ye are all mad!” Cait finally relented.

"I have to agree with you," Preston shivered, retreating.

"As long as I outlast the Brotherhood's cheer squad...I'm a winner..." Deacon chittered next to Danse.

"My training has prepared me to withstand all manner of conditions...you should consider admitting defeat while you still can."

"Nah-uh, Tin Can," the spy retorted. "I once disguised myself as a snowman for six hours...wait till you hear where I placed the carrot..."

Danse just grunted at him.

"This is a rush!" Hancock stretched his arms above his head.

"You say that until your bits fall off," MacCready jested.

"How do you know mine haven't already?" Hancock teased him back.

"Ugh...why the hell am I here..." Aiden grumbled.

"Because Slick asked us to be...so quit your complainin'..." Jake answered.

"Ye alright, sweetheart?"

MacCready nearly swallowed a mouthful of water when he heard that. Sturges was staring right at him.

"I'm fi--fine!" he stammered.

"Yer shakin' like a leaf," the mechanic continued, sweeping back his wet hair.

"I'm just...cold...nothing I can't handle," the merc replied, trying not to stare.

"Well good luck to ya...I need a beer." Sturges swam past him, heading toward the bank.

"I'm with him on that one," Aiden followed.

MacCready gazed longingly at the shoreline. It was tempting. He could just give up now.

Nate smirked at him. "Don't ye dare..."

"I wasn't..." the merc lied.

"Sure ye weren't–”

"It appears something has entered my armor! I appear to have been compromised!" Danse's booming voice rang through the air.

"Nothin' in this water but us, big guy," Hancock called out.

"I can assure you, I am not mistaken! There is something alive inside my suit!"

The spy swam closer to him. "Maybe it's a bloatfly larvae...they like to burrow in wet organic materials..."

Danse froze. "What?"

Deacon tried not to laugh.

"I must terminate this creature immediately!" Danse was starting to panic.

"I shall accompany Monsieur Danse in his endeavor," Curie volunteered.

"I'm out...I'm not missing this! Thanks for the swim, guys." And with that, Deacon climbed out of the water.

"Fascinating...perhaps I should join them," X6-88 followed suit.

"I ain't missing this... Tapping out," Hancock was next.

And then there were three.

"How're ye feelin'?”

"Fine..." MacCready answered.

"Naw really, how are ye feelin'?" Nate asked again.

"I feel...alive," the merc admitted.

"Ye still cold?"

"Too numb to tell..."

Nate let out a belly laugh at that. "That's the spirit."

"Slick?" Jake was shivering now. "I think I'm at my limit."

"Aye...let's get ye warmed up and some scran in ye," Nate agreed.

MacCready watched them climb out of the water. Nate gathered up a blanket from Codsworth and slung it over the pair of them.

"Ye coming, lad? Or do I need tae send Strong in tae get ye?"

MacCready watched them for a moment, Nate's arm resting protectively around the engineer's waist as they walked back toward the common area.

He...he won?

"Yeah...I'm coming..."

"Well done Master MacCready! A stupendous display!” Codsworth greeted him as he clambered out of the lake.

"Thanks, Codsworth," MacCready replied.

The Mr. Handy draped the blanket over his shoulders. "Come now, you must be famished after all that excitement."

"I'm starving..."

Nate rested his head on Jacob's shoulder, fresh clothes and a warm fire and an assortment of familiar faces, it was the perfect way to spend New Years.

"I hope everyone enjoyed themselves today," he said softly.

"You know I did, Blue," Piper replied as she sipped her hot chocolate.

"Me too!" Shaun sat cross-legged on the floor with Dogmeat's head in his lap. "This place is pretty great!”

"Indeed sir," X6-88 agreed. "The festivities were quite enjoyable."

"Oh it was most enjoyable indeed, Monsieur! Perhaps we could participate in this 'dooken' again next year." Curie leaned into Cait's side.

"Ye can count me in!" Cait kissed her on the forehead.

"What are you gonna call him?” Hancock asked, his chin propped up by his hand.

"Call who?" Nate frowned.

"His Stowaway," the ghoul said, nodding to the bundle in Danse's arms.

"My desire is to call him Cutler...but I fear I may not be able to adequately tame him..."

"Cutler is a fine name for a Mirelurk," Preston reassured him.

'I think so too," Hancock agreed.

"This is fascinating. I have never observed a juvenile hatchling in this state before," Curie commented as she peered over Danse's arm. "He is so well behaved!"

"These creatures are normally quite aggressive...but this one...I find it...endearing." Danse admitted.

"I know that feeling," Hancock smirked.

MacCready shifted in Beau's embrace, stretching his legs out in front of him before settling into the comfortable warmth surrounding him.

"Happy New Year," he yawned.

"Happy New Year," Sturges echoed, pulling him closer.

An array of voices replied with similar sentiments.

It made Nate proud. Somehow in the midst of chaos, they found each other, and despite the differences they once shared, the prejudices they had held, he brought them together. He only hoped it would be enough to see them through whatever the Wastes would throw at them next.

Nate leaned over and kissed Jake on the cheek. "Welcome tae the family."

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