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ellewritesathing · 4 years ago

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Infernal VII

Summary: In your sleepy little town of Greendale, nothing ever slept for long. And ever since October, everything felt like it was waking up. Everything except for you, that is. One teensy trip to Hell (and an infuriatingly cute guy) later and suddenly you felt wide awake.

Word-count: 3.3k+

Masterlist Prev. | Part 7

A/N: we’re back witches

The Shores of Sorrow was never meant to be a peaceful place. It was perfectly designed to torture lost souls for eternity, to damn them to an existence where they are forgotten by all except the high tides that mercilessly embraced them. Perfectly designed for torment, and yet you felt nothing but peace as the waves washed over your feet and the sun clung to the horizon … that is, until you sensed the demon behind you.

With a quick exhale, you summoned the Harpe and let it guide your muscles to cut down your attacker as you turned. Though it had been clumsy and cumbersome when Caliban had first given it to you, you’d grown used to the weight of the sword and learned the necessity of the sickle. The Harpe was an extension of yourself.

“Careful, love.” Caliban wielded his smile as dangerously as you wielded the Harpe. He’d jumped out of the way of your blow, but his The Doors t-shirt was too slow. The Harpe tore through the right side of his shirt, barely missing his skin. “You could hurt someone like that.”

Tilting your head to the side and leveling your sword at him, you said, “That’s kind of the point, babe. Sorry about your shirt though.”

Caliban looked at the Harpe for a moment before smiling to himself and stepping backward. Kneeling down and sinking his hands into the sand, he said, “I think it suits me better this way, don’t you?” He rose with twin obsidian daggers.

“I think it would look a lot better if you weren’t threatening me.”

“I’m not threatening you. I’d like to see what those malignants have taught you.”

“Oh, would you now?”

Grinning, Caliban twirled the daggers and struck out. He was fast, but you’d been trained to be faster.

You pulled the Harpe in to block the dagger headed for your chest and swiped to knock it to one side. Caliban turned into the movement so as not to lose the blade. He circled you with a dangerous smile, searching for a weak spot. You knew he’d found one when he tossed one of the daggers in the air and caught it with an overhand grip. Yet his determination still surprised you when he lunged and aimed a strike at your side.

Dropping the Harpe, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer - ignoring the stinging in your side to make a play for the other dagger. Caliban laughed at the clumsy attempt until you kneed him in the gut.

Twisting out of his hold, you summoned the Harpe and readied yourself for the next attack. For a while, Caliban moved in insufferable silence, but soon he started throwing witticisms and critiques your way as well. As distracting as the words were, they kept you from overthinking. Your moves were smoother, hits were harder, and strikes quicker. Still, you were restrained; no matter how easy it would have been to lean into the Harpe’s viciousness, you couldn’t risk hurting Caliban.

The sparring only stopped once you’d knocked each other to the ground, a dagger pressed to your ribcage and the Harpe at Caliban’s throat. You were frozen, the never-setting sun washing his features in pale pink light and contrasting the flecks of gold in his eye. He smiled.

“If this were a real fight-” he pulled the dagger back to twirl around his index finger before throwing it into the sand, “I would have cut out your heart by now.”

“If this were a real fight-” you leaned down slightly, applying ever so much more pressure to the Harpe “-I would have summoned Hellfire in your lungs and watched you burn alive by now.”

With a dangerous smile of your own, you pulled the Harpe back and let it vanish as you rolled over to a seat. The sun hung ambivalently on the horizon, blanketed in clouds. With the water slowly washing the shore, you could almost forget the souls of the damned drowning further out to sea.

As you sighed, Caliban rolled on his side to face you, head cradled in his hand. He touched your elbow and ran his index finger along your arm as he said, “Summoning Hellfire is new. Last week you just threatened to stop my heart.”

Truth be told, you couldn’t have stopped his heart even if you wanted you. You’d learned to master many of the gifts Lilith had given you, but telekinesis always gave you a nasty headache. “Keeping track of my powers in case I’ll follow through one of these days?” you asked, turning to him with an easy smile. You reached over and pushed some of his hair behind his ear.

Catching your hand with his, Caliban said, “Not at all.” Carefully, deliberately, he ran his thumb across the outside of your hand, connecting the scars scattered along your skin. “I won’t mind if you do, but I only ask in a vain attempt to determine when Lilith will be satisfied with your training.”

You choked out a laugh. “Lilith is never going to be satisfied with my training.” Rolling your eyes, you moved from your seat to lie in the sand. You stared at the clouds ahead, darker than you’d ever seen in Hell. “Every time I get the hang of one ability, she comes up with some fresh punishment. I’m hoping she’ll chill out once my replacement is born.”

Caliban was quiet. He looked at you with the same curious, indecipherable expression he’d used when you met on the Shores of Sorrow; jaw clenched, mouth barely upturned, and eyes searching. You asked what he was searching for.

“I was wondering where exactly I fit in the grand plan,” he said.

“Right next to me?” He didn’t seem convinced. You reached for his hand again. “Honestly, I don’t know where I fit into the plan either, but I do know they’re showing all the Alien movies at the Paramount this Friday. Maybe you could-”

A drop of rain landed on your face, but when you wiped it away, your hand was smeared black. You bolted upright, and the world around you shook.

“Caliban, what’s happening?”

“Someone’s trying to wake you, but you have to be careful-”

Electricity cracked through your skull, the pain so overwhelming that you didn’t register the tightness in your chest at first. Every muscle in your body ached, cramping from the sudden tension. You’d only experienced this kind of pain your first time using dream manipulation, when Lilith purposely pulled you out too suddenly to teach you the dangers of the waking world.

Lilith wasn’t the one who woke you this time. The white spots faded from your vision to give way to your dad, frantic and shaking you. By the time your hearing came back, he'd moved to the window. He rocked on his heels as he peered between your curtains. His words were incomprehensible.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

Your dad turned his whole body to look at you. He blinked twice, slowly, before saying, “Oh, good. You’re awake. All the lights are out.”

Gingerly, you tested your muscles before trying to sit up. Everything still hurt, but you could move. “Did you try messing with the breaker?”

“I was an English major,” he told you seriously.

You rolled your eyes, thankful that he was at least lucid enough to crack a joke. He’d gotten better when Lilith was still coming around, but she stopped visiting almost as soon as she started. “I’ll go see if it’s affecting anyone else or just us.”

Crawling out of bed, you waited for the world to come into focus before making your way through the house to the breaker in the garage. You were just about to open the door when the toaster dinged behind you. It was working perfectly. The fridge was cool inside, even if the light wasn’t working. The only flaw you could find with any of the appliances you checked was the lack of light.

With a shudder, you told your dad that you were going to Sabrina’s.

He’d seemed completely himself since you woke up, but now he looked at you with a glassy expression that you knew all too well. Instead of telling you to be careful or that he’d see you soon or that he loved you, he said, “The instruments of darkness tell us truths.”

“Right,” you said with a sigh. You grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair. “I’ll keep that mind.”

---

One thing that you never understood about the Spellmans was that they never locked their doors. You understood now that a lock couldn’t keep out the threats they faced and there was no need to keep out their friends, but you still smiled to yourself as you let yourself in through the backdoor. Once inside, you found Sabrina, Ambrose, Nick, and Prudence huddled around the breakfast table as Ambrose warned them against something he called the eldritch terrors.

He told them to imagine a world without light, just perpetual darkness. Chaos would follow, and eventually so would death. You shuddered at the dark clouds in your dreams. “Worse comes to worst,” he said, “We cannot allow the darkness to escape Greendale.”

Prudence promised to work with the coven to seal Greendale’s borders as Nick offered to work with the Fright Club to contain the miners. Sabrina and Ambrose would work to disperse the darkness. None of them sounded very hopeful.

You took a step forward and tried to sound braver than you felt. “I can help.”

“Okay, sure,” Sabrina said, nodding at Ambrose over her shoulder. If she was surprised to see you after lurking in the corner of her kitchen, she didn’t say anything about it. “You can help Nick look for a spell to stop the miners.”

“No, Brina, that’s not what I meant.” Taking a deep breath, you held out your hand, palm up to the sky. You summoned the Hellfire and let the dark paint the flames and your eyes black. “I can help.”

There was only one time in your life that you’d ever left Sabrina Spellman at a loss for words: you were nine years old and Billy was testing the limits of the school’s zero-tolerance bullying, Sabrina was using her words the way Aunt Hilda had told her to, and you used your push-kick the way your dad had told you to. The speechless that overcame her now, however, was a different breed. When you were young, it had been a kind of admiration; now, it was a kind of betrayal. The quiet of a broken promise.

While Sabrina was still processing how her best friend could summon Hellfire, Prudence leaned in closer. She tilted her head as she took you in, intrigued by you for the first time since you’d met her. Even as Nick dragged her out, she kept her eye on you like a cat watches a mouse. Just before she disappeared, she winked at you.

You’d been so caught up in the whirlwind that is Prudence Blackwood that you didn’t notice Sabrina’s recovery and Ambrose’s diatribe. She pointed out that even if you could keep the darkness at bay long enough for her to create light, her powers wouldn’t be enough. Ambrose argued that the consequences of her suggestion would be cataclysmic.

“Aren’t we facing something cataclysmic?” she asked.

Ambrose sighed. Sabrina, begrudgingly, had made a fair point. “How do we go about this? No one other than myself can see the two of you together.”

“Uh, hi?” You stepped forward carefully. “Could one of you please explain what’s going on?”

Sabrina looked at Ambrose uncertainly. He nodded - after rolling his eyes - and she took a deep breath. “Remember when I gave up being Queen of Hell?”

“Yeah…”

“I didn’t really do that. I broke a time loop and created another version of myself so that I, Sabrina Spellman, could have this life and she, Sabrina Morningstar, could continue being Queen of Hell.”

“Damning the rest of us to a universe that could potentially fold in on itself in the process,” Ambrose finished.

“Oh.” You couldn’t say that you weren’t surprised that there were two Sabrinas - it didn’t make sense for Caliban to tell you stories about Sabrina advocating for reforms in Hell when you’d seen in her homeroom that same morning stressing about a trig midterm - but you were surprised she’d managed to keep it a secret so long. “This explains why you were muttering about time paradoxes when we were researching the fairy circles outside the Academy,” you said to Ambrose.

All Ambrose could do was choke out a laugh and shake his head. “Yes, Scout, that is why I was muttering about time paradoxes and why I will die prematurely,” he said, turning on his heel to focus on Sabrina. “Get Sabrina Morningstar, keep contact to a minimum, and we will meet you both at the mines.”

“Got it!” With a grin, Sabrina disappeared to prepare a glamor.

Ambrose stared at her, stunned, before saying, “I think she’s actually enjoying this.”

“What’s not to enjoy?” you asked. You laughed at Ambrose’s outrage over your joke and told him you’d meet him at the mines. There was one thing you had to do before you took on the eldritch darkness.

Ambrose didn’t ask any questions; he just told you to be back as soon as possible.

Luckily for you, teleporting to Hell took almost no time at all. The only reason it took you so long to get back to the mines was that it was nearly impossible for both Lilith and Caliban to slip away from the Courts unnoticed. If getting them in a room together was nearly impossible, then getting them not to tear one another’s throats out required a miracle.

It seemed the only thing the two of them could agree on was that it was too dangerous for you to go into the darkness alone.

“I won’t be alone,” you said for the umpteenth time. Careful not to mention the other Sabrina, you explained, “I’ll have all the Spellmans with me. All I’m asking from you is …” What exactly were you asking from them? Help? Forgiveness?

Lilith rolled her eyes. “While the Spellmans may have an uncanny ability to vanquish their foes, I severely doubt their ability to ward off one of the eldritch terrors. Especially without their resident Morningstar.”

“And what exactly are you suggesting we do, Lilith?” Caliban asked. He said her name as if it were a poison. He used the same steely voice to talk to her that he used when he challenged her claim to the throne, even if he paired it with a smile in your presence.

Lilith simmered, pulling her lips into a tight smile. Some part of her, you thought, enjoyed the fact that Caliban was defiant, but you knew that an even larger part of her disliked others doubting her. Turning to you, she said, “No one other than the three of us can know about your claim to Hell. I cannot help you face the darkness, but if we bind our powers together, you may have a chance of surviving it on your own.”

“Even with your power, how would I even go about fighting something like this?” you asked. “I can’t make light.”

“You don’t need to,” Lilith said. “You can feed on the dark, acknowledge it as yours, and draw power from it.”

Caliban doused the fire building in your veins with water as he stepped forward. “The effects of absorbing that much darkness could be deadly.”

“So is doing nothing,” Lilith said. She tilted her head up to him and narrowed her eyes. “So, Prince of Clay, unless you have any better ideas, I suggest we get a move on before the eldritch dark ends us all.”

---

You weren’t sure what to expect from the other Sabrina. You’d supposed they would be the same as Wardwell and Lilith: they’d share a face and be impossibly different from one another, but that wasn’t the case. Sabrina Morningstar was an exact double of Sabrina Spellman; if anything, she seemed to be a more hopeful version of your best friend, despite her extended stay in Hell.

“I see what you mean about the energy down here,” she mused, looking ahead to where the Darkness lay. “It’s … evil. And old. I feel terrible.”

The Darkness didn’t feel evil to you. It felt sad, bottomless, and empty, but not evil.

“And that will only get worse once you’re inside,” Ambrose said. He tore his eyes away from the Darkness. “Prolonged and acute exposure to the Darkness is lethal. Death by despair.” He sighed. “So who’s first?”

Sabrina Morningstar shifted next to you. “Me.”

She squeezed your hand before letting go to pick up the giant lightbulb at her feet. She threw you a trademarked Sabrina smile before disappearing into the Darkness. Even in the pit of despair, there was a light in her that seemed utterly unable to be snuffed out.

You took a deep breath, shook every other thought out of your head, and focused on the dark. The Dark wasn’t evil, it wasn’t cold. It was pulling faces over a flashlight under the covers with Roz, Theo, and Sabrina. It was Tommy teaching you and Harvey about astronomy through a cracked telescope. It was warm, and sweet, and deeply, intrinsically sad.

The Darkness filled every cell of your being, replaying every birthday you spent wishing that your mother had loved you enough to stay, echoing every degrading word school bullies had said to you. It was smothering.

Sabrina stood right next to you, but her voice was barely audible. “Something’s wrong, Ambrose. The- the light’s fading.”

“I’m afraid so, cos,” Ambrose said.

You fought to pull yourself out of the Darkness, but it was like shedding a second skin. The Darkness felt like a part of you, more you than yourself.

The instruments of darkness tell us truths.

Breathing in, you opened your eyes and steadied yourself. The Darkness was a part of you, maybe the truest piece of you, but that’s all it was: one part of you, one version of the truth. You reached for Sabrina’s hand and forced a smile.

“Let’s go help her.”

Sabrina stepped into the Darkness first, but then she froze. She couldn’t feel the energy in the dark like you. Carefully, you led her through the Dark until you found Sabrina Morningstar, Darkness seeping out her nose and eyes. She was crying, hope snuffed out.

Hope, it turned out, took the form of Sabrina Spellman. She picked the pieces of Sabrina Morningstar off the floor and told her that they could face the Darkness, and anything else that came their way, together. And maybe with a little help, you added, as you knelt with them.

Taking their hands in yours, you drew the Darkness out of their hearts. While Sabrina Spellman hadn’t let very much in, Sabrina Morningstar had worn her heart on her sleeve. She felt every emotion the Darkness threw at her with full force and let her shattered past cut her open. Taking her Darkness was one of the hardest things you’ve ever done, but it was worth it to see the two of them smile over a lightbulb filled with Absolute Darkness.

Ambrose was a wreck when you found him again. He looked ready to cry at the sight of you. “Congratulations! Unbelievably, the three of you have managed to do what is nearly impossible: you trapped an eldritch terror.”

“We did it,” the Sabrina’s said, each squeezing one of your hands.

“We should get that lightbulb somewhere safe,” Ambrose said. He took another shaky breath and shook his head as Sabrina Morningstar scooped the Darkness up and started wading through the mines. “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

“Yeah,” you said softly, watching them disappear down the tunnel. Lifting a hand to wipe your nose, you saw the familiar sticky Darkness painting your fingertips. “Neither can I.”

Tagged: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e @miss–moose @marrypuffsstuff @harryscarolinaa @igorsbby @foji2000 @hxlalokidottir @artaxerxesthegreat @thxmagic @strawberriesandknives @xealia @hotmessindisguise @acciomaximoff @reheated-coffee @shelby-x @perseny-blog @millie-753 @luneerius @shizzybarnaclee @lettherebelovex @throughparisallthroughrome @ietss @thebookwormlife @mechanicalanimalz @mariamermaid @nqbmf @caliban-is-my-girl @shephard17895 @andie-kathleen @clockworks-world-to-fandoms @luquincy @marina468 @olivia-west-allen @drrramaaaqweeen @roxytheimmortal @blondeeee-e @piensa-bonito @supportstudies

#caos #caos rewrite #Caliban #Infernal #chilling adventures of sabrina #caliban x reader #caliban imagine

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years ago

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Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.2)

CHAPTER 23.1

WOTN MASTERLIST

Summary: Higher Vampires are known to be incredibly intelligent. Whence, Tybalt of Toussaint may also possess some humanly emotions just like how mortals do.

Warnings: Blood. Gore. Gory. I think I haven't been too descriptive in this part? I don't wanna say any more in the summary. I don't wanna spoil anything. The usual blasphemy.

Words: 3.2k (short, I know. Heh. Should've been included in the last chapter but I didn't. I think this deserves to have an own chapter.) Short but would give such emotions. I hope. 😉

A/N: Ugh. I thought school has been postponed in my country. It should've been postponed. I have no money and I'm terribly not in the mood everyday to even do anything---what about studying then? Updates will be slower because of the anxiety I'm having. Your words help the anxiety lessen a few whenever you comment for WOTN. Heehee! Mwah!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (All taken from Tumblr so credits to the rightful owners of the gifs) However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books, games or show. First line was taken from a Geralt quote. (Here in Tumblr) I don't know if it was from the show because I hardly remember lines or scripts. (I'm forgetful as heck) LMAO. But, I can hear him saying it inside my head rn.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"I run into dilemmas all the time. Situations where it's hard to judge, hard to know what's right, make a decision. This is not one of them. You both disgust me and deserve to die,"

"What---what the bloody fuck, Witcha'?!"

"I didn't peg you to be an adopted vampire who suckles on that hag's slandering, inimical greed for power. You're intelligent. But, you use it for foolish purposes,"

"Feckin' heck! Yer' attacking me now? Want to pick up a battle in the middle of feckin' Bethleheigm's forest?!"

"Tybalt of Toussaint. You and your cunning sorceress wasted my time all along,"

Geralt of Rivia snarled through gritted teeth, the vampire grounded to a tree where the witcher has him pinned with a tough hand on his shoulder, while the other held a blade pointed to his heart, "---have been blood-guilty since the prince has even been born,"

He was certainly led on by their wiles. The sorceress and the higher vampire. Geralt was sure that the queen had no idea as to what they've done; as to what Ingrith has done. From the curse of Makeda's son up until the point where she has been the king's mistress. Though, the witcher knew he was done for all their bullshit that has been put up. All his energy wasted for a devil's snare that he obviously has been caged in.

He should've listened to you instead when you have tried shushing him in the middle of his impulsive decision making with the king. The white wolf trusted more of his knowledge rather than the instincts that his guts have been telling him.

Geralt should've trusted his midget more than himself. Most of the time, his decisions were always the worst if we could talk about what happened in the past.

"I wasn't taken in that time yet, Witcha'! The feckin' sorceress didn't take me before the prince has even been born!"

Tybalt struggled against his hold, fighting off Geralt's strength and trying to shrug his hand away. He could simply wave him in hand to hand combat, their strengths matching with one another. Perhaps, the Higher Vampire was stronger than the witcher. Yet, Geralt's anger was rather compelling versus Tybalt's sudden cedes, "---Guess, the truth always and will be set free no matter how we---!"

The latter heard the blade of his silver sword ripping his fabric apart due to being constraint physically. Geralt growled beneath his chest, vibrating through his armor that startled Rohesia who sat on a piece of log.

As Geralt convinced the old woman to come with, they've left her home. Notwithstanding his newly found strength of convincing or better yet, begging that he somehow catches himself trapped in. He sounded pitiful to be begging from a mortal to save his own human. The witcher couldn't imagine nor see himself to be in his own shoes right at that moment.

They've went on with their journey going back to Kaedwen. Tybalt looking oh-so-dumbfounded to see the woman who he talked to years ago about Geralt's existence---how they wanted this specific witcher to lure them in for another shitful death. Vesemir's prior visits never being mentioned to the vampire because she knows how they were trying to remove them in the continent one by one with their unreasonable rationales.

The white wolf was quiet, utterly speechless when he'd seen the vampire. His teeth tightly gritted together behind close mouth. Jaw set to bark deep profanities as to how he has been foolish not to point fingers at them from the start.

Hence, which is why; in the middle of hunting for a deer, Geralt had wildly attacked Tybalt. Face being punched from the witcher's fist and having no time to draw his sword from his back. The latter stumbled from his attack, but eventually recovered in an inhumane amount of time---at least, a second of using his agility to fight back. His vampire claws itching to grow but he was trying not to use them for what guilt was setting him reluctant over a battle with the witcher.

Tybalt needed the blood that Geralt spat on the ground when he'd given him a strong punch to the face. Their brawl being a release of their own frustrations over each other until the higher vampire began to try and use his invisibility with Geralt that made the witcher huff and growl, making him draw his sword out of his back as Tybalt stood on top of a tree branch, invisible and owning no shadow.

The witcher felt where he was hiding and had to use Igni to push him back. Fire slightly burning the side of his bearded face that instantly regenerated in a few minutes. Geralt's vexation for him even becoming more insufferable when the higher vampire hauled him over to the ground, pinning him down. But, the white wolf's anger was determined to come back to the castle with his cut-off head in his hand.

Resulting onto their current position against a tree with hearts blaring for rage, the witcher's resentment over your heart being kept at a trembling bay for whatever was giving you more and more questions about him.

"This was an endless hunt---Midget was right." he grumbled and barked, sending a nasty scowl.

"She knew?" Tybalt spat with a sardonic laugh, "---I thought it was er' affection that ye' didn't trust---I didn't thought ye' actually don't trust er' at all."

Geralt's conscience tingled with the need to have a battle with him until he was contented. He pushed him further against the wood, his amber glazing with a major amount of fury. Red as people can describe for his fueled wrath for anyone in his way.

Tybalt wasn't fighting back as he could read him through his eyes, indignation filled within them that made him emit a shaky cackle because of how he explained to Ingrith that their horrid truth will eventually be set free in the future. The unlucky fate they had was that Geralt has happened to know it rather than another mortal that they could murder just like the previous ones who Rohesia has spilled the beans over the issue.

But, this was Geralt. Gwynbleidd. The infamous butcher. If he would tell Tybalt how he didn't have feelings, then it was all just a damn lie because he was being controlled over his own spleen.

Tybalt of Toussaint was a cuckoo for even trying to rattle his cage. Geralt's teeth untamely barred as time was being spent with him. His hostility skyrocketing after knowing how he has been fooled.

"Heard the visions inside yer' head when ye' were talking in your sleep, Butcher." a heavy beat of silence, "---Ye' believe she'll eventually leave because it might be the destiny for a lass who lived in another world. Yer' fearful that she'll die in your hands. Scared that she'll leave ye' behind and grow old earlier than ye' do because she ain't no mutant like ye. The fight ye' had with er' was quite entertaining to be honest. Too childish to think that yer' still feckin' that sorceress ye' had. No questions asked. I must prefer to choose the unchaste one if ye' ask me---no wonder you want the woman who makes my palates tingle. She's fresh, young and smells bloody good! Sure enough, she's no vestal as she may seem anymore because I know ye' fucked that woman---oh, fuck ye' bloody mutant!"

Tybalt hasn't finished his sentence about diminishing his old flame and current one. The witcher didn't hesitate but give him a strong jab to his jaw, making Tybalt spit his own blood on the ground with a hearty laugh, earning a grimace from Geralt himself. His jaw tensing and clenching tighter than ever from hearing such things.

The higher vampire grinned like a Cheshire cat, teeth painted in crimson red from how the witcher has made him bust his lip from being punched in the face. He could avoid them if he wanted to, but he felt like his assaults and madness were well deserved for what they both have caused to his family, especially to you. It was about time Geralt would seethe into his own pique. The witcher should've done it since then---but, Tybalt has escaped back in the marketplace; escaping his profound wrath.

"Is the mighty witcher's weakness, a mere mortal who knows nothing of you, yer' past and the continent---were ye' even honest to her? told everythin' about yer' nauseating stories?"

Geralt growled another, his words vibing a snappy snarl as he grumbled so deeply, "Fuck. You went deep inside my head." he held onto his sword's hilt tighter, penetrating the sharp blade onto Tybalt's skin, blood seeping through his clothing which has ignited a deep groan and whimper from the latter.

"---Vampires. I loathe your kind."

The white wolf was about to deepen his blade against his chest, Tybalt's punctured wound oozing of claret blood. Geralt's actions making the old woman gasp from where she sat afar, seeing that they weren't having their little playtime anymore as it was all serious. Blood and wounds involving his interrogation over the Upir.

"Stop...Stop yer' horses," Tybalt whimpered, not knowing whether to laugh or revel in the pain as to how it felt to be stabbed on his chest. This was like an imbecile move for him; to accept such blade for the guilt he was feeling over his actions towards you---a mortal who had no idea what was happening in the first place.

Maybe, there was still a teeny-tiny amount of contrition left inside of him. The baby growing inside being the cause of his sudden compunction and change of events because of what the sorceress in the castle's next move would be and his sincerity would be the least that Ingrith wanted nor hoped to see.

His next words would cause him his life and what will be outside of the castle---for what was waiting for him and of being Ingrith's shadow since the moment he was taken.

Repentance is always achieved when one is left with no choice for his or her sins. Regret and realization for one's mistakes happens in the end. Though, in most cases, people living in malign don't realize it at all.

"It's in the cup! Inside the feckin' cup, alright!" Tybalt sneered and hissed, feeling the blade slowly being pushed further. His candor being answered with dubiety from the latter and a hoarse reply.

"Hmm. What lies must you be playing now. You're distracting me from sticking this blade inside your cold, withering heart, Upir."

The higher vampire held onto his silver blade with his hand, his skin frothing against the sword, palm burning for what Geralt has coated back before they even arrived in Rohesia's hideout. Vampire Oil. He was still dubious about Tybalt despite of being unaware for their clandestine schemes. Geralt never trusted his thirst for sins after all.

Tybalt accepted the pain, letting his skin burn from the blade. More blood seeping out of his fingers from how he tried wretching his sword off his chest. But, with all of Geralt's willpower, he kept the vampire in his place. His shoulder slightly beginning to burn and it took him one look to see Geralt fighting off to use one of his signs. Igni that he was also susceptible with.

"Ve...Venom from a female royal Wyvern, Cockatrice and a mixture of acid from a Bloedzuiger's insides---mixed with a taste that wouldn't let er' know that it is poison she's consuming," he stammered with a whimper, hissing another and growling back when Geralt pushed through the vampire's heart, paying no remorse over stabbing the vital parts of him.

The witcher only answered with silence. A death stare being thrown back, trying to understand what he wanted to say. His brows tightly netted in confusion, dazed and long enough for Tybalt to continue his divulge over Ingrith's secret agendas.

"She...plans to destroy her insides---make her bleed." pause. "---If she's protected by the Djinn where yer' lass could resist Ingrith's magic, then there is no doubt that she could accept the vile that will be passed through her throat. Down...down, through her stomach,"

Her. Was it you? Geralt silently pondered at the thought, the gaze in his eyes faltering and turning livid. Teeth bared for his acrimonious comment said.

"Know when to fuck off with your lies! I'm tired of it!"

Geralt growled, his skepticism made the vampire weakly shake his head for his incredulity, mutely sparing his bleat with a low whimper and growl as he sent daggers over the blade stuck in his chest, "I...I spare my tongue to you when this is all an actual lie,"

The witcher scoffed, knowing that he was making a fool out of himself again and it was making him go on the warpath because he knew that cutting his tongue would be nothing to Tybalt.

"You regenerate. You can't outsmart me this time."

Tybalt's clothing was drenched in his own blood. Fresh cochineal saturating the under tunic concealed before his body armor that the witcher had no problem to prod. The higher vampire breathed deeply through his nose, his eyes mentally telling that he was relinquishing every ploy to achieve the sorceress' goals.

"Behead me then with yer' silver sword, Weccan. Cut all me' limbs and feed me to a Selkiemore. But, yer' little woman's drink shall be poisoned in the night of the feast. Three cups of wild fruit juice given to er'---safe for---safe for her as a token of appreciation and another for what she would gladly ask from the king. However, I do not know what cup is poisoned or what not. That's all I can say."

Geralt was snarling before the vampire. His nose scrunched in contempt. The idea slowly coming to his senses. They plan to poison you without a doubt. He needed to come back to his midget as soon as possible. The witcher will be risking your anger that hasn't faded still. Their poison was strong---potent as other mages or wizards may know that even it would take him effects once consumed.

Come what may, rue did not move the witcher's heart. He'd punctured Tybalt's heart, his blade passing through the body of the Upir who minimally spat blood out of his mouth. The silver sword being coated with more blood, splattering the tree behind him, drips of blood painting wood. A gash being given to his most vital organ.

Geralt knew it would take him months or even decades for such bodily destruction. Howbeit, he'd only punctured him in a part that would exhibit a vast amount of pain for his sufferings to yours; for what pain they've given to you was felt from the witcher. He came with you in terms of physical and spiritual---your existence had him coming in two's when it should've been only himself.

Nonetheless, Geralt of Rivia knew in order to survive was to exterminate each and every one who would hurt you because you were the most vulnerable including Cirilla. The witcher would do just that. Give agony to human or any other kind who breaths in the continent until you were safe and sound; to shed blood as he may see with the lesser evil on his side. As he may now try to see that particular side of it with no doubts.

He was not done with Tybalt as he pushed the blade further until the hilt, his heart clouding in blue when Geralt could know that something was happening again back in the castle---the heavyness going back and forth, every hour of the day dropping stones on his chest for what was happening to you.

Tybalt spat more blood once Geralt forcefully yielded his sword away. Crimson liquid filling the ground, his Ivory hair somehow catching onto the gore he has created in the middle of the forest. The higher vampire will be taking decades to recover---lucky if another higher vampire would help him with his regeneration but they both knew that no grudges will be held after because he gladly accepted the pain.

Gwynbleidd has lifted his blade off Tybalt's heart, staring with no remorse and filled with fury. Tybalt was mumbling onto something he couldn't understand. He could only decipher the words 'she' and 'save' over his anger, clouded thoughts before Geralt held tightly onto the handle of his sword, slashing through Tybalt's jugular with determination. Beheading the vampire with his own actions in silence as his amputated body and head fell onto the wet, bloody ground.

He stared, thoroughly emotionless upon his work, thoughtlessly giving heed to the closed eyes of the former living vampire laying lifeless on the dirtground. Geralt grumbled a hum beneath his raging chest, scowling whilst he took a step to pick up Tybalt's head, leaving his body for whatever fate lays for him because the witcher knew he wasn't entirely dead with the slowest beating of heart.

Rohesia was stunned and speechless over watching the scene afar. The witcher's will and determination being sensed from the distance and she knew that this princess he was trying to save was an important person in his dangerous, ill-fate life for the risk he was willing to take---giving her knowledge that Vesemir have been telling the truth in which Geralt of Rivia looked up to him like a father figure and a son that he may never get to have forever.

If you go back to my chapters, you'll know that I had a hint that this would happen to our precious wittle reader. If anybody remembers or had a hint on what chapter, COMMENT! Mwohahaha! RIP to our boi, Tybalt. You shall be missed. Can’t believe this was my first OC whom I killed off in a story. *sobs*

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means your blog can’t be tagged. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @butterpumpkinscotch @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum, @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks, @raynosaurus-rex, @britty443, @suhke3, @shadowclawstudio88, @ruthoakenshield, @just-a-sad-donut, @gxrdenr0se, @singeramg @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo, @alexwinchester23, @naturalthrone22 @supernaturallover2002, @tellmesomethinggud

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist for any Henry Cavill fics: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547, @henrythickcavill, @kaatelyyynn, @marvelousell, @madelinelina, @summersong69, @raynosaurus-rex, @fckdeusername, @evansislife @nothinggoesunpunished

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crystalwillow · 4 years ago

Text

Paint By Numbers, Part Two

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Hayley McAllister (F!MC)

Word Count: 6.3K

A/N: I have included Japanese (from google translate) in this fiction, but I have put the English underneath in brackets () so that everyone can still read. I hope you all enjoy Part Two of Paint By Numbers.

Tagging: @mrs-ramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @brycelahelalover @deansmyapplepie @eleanorbloom

====================

It had been a few weeks since their last date and Ethan had been looking for a reason to take Hayley on another one, and they were in the perfect place for him to give her an early birthday present he was sure she would love. They had been in Japan for four days now, mainly just been settling into their hotel and spending time with Hayley’s Godfather, Takeshi. As Hayley was getting ready, Ethan sat on the bed in their hotel room looking over the menu to see what they could get for breakfast.

“Hayley?!” Ethan called out.

“Yeah?!” she shouted from the bathroom as she dried her hair. She looked in the mirror at Ethan as he entered the bathroom and gave her a soft smile.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked as he leant on the door frame.

“Um..” Hayley said thoughtfully, continuing to dry her hair. A few minutes passed in silence as Hayley thought before she finally turned the hair dryer off, placing it back on the side. “Can we go out for breakfast today?” she asked as she turned around to face Ethan who now stood up straight from the door frame and opened his arms to pull her into his embrace. She smiled as she rested her head on his chest and he kissed the crown of Hayley’s head gently, almost as if he was to add any more pressure she would break.

“Of course. Did you have a particular place in mind?” he asked with a smile. She smiled back at him as they looked at each other in the mirror lovingly. “Your beauty never ceases to blow me away.” Ethan continued, gently stroking her hair.

Hayley smiled back, a small yawn escaping her. “I thought we could go to the market and see what we could find.”

“Are you sure? You seem like you’re still a little tired.”

“I am. But I want to experience as much as possible with you whilst we’re here.”

“And I’d rather do that with a fully rested Hayley. We aren’t in Boston right now, we don’t have medical responsibilities.”

“I thought you had an important conference call tomorrow afternoon before dinner?”

“Well.... other than that.”

They shared a chuckle before reluctantly pulling away from each other to finish getting ready and head out into the streets of Japan. As they left the lobby of the hotel they held hands tightly and smiled at each other, taking in the sights as they walked past them. When they reached the market, Hayley perked up and let go of Ethan’s hand, skipping ahead to look at all the produce.

“We should cook for my family tonight.” she beamed at Ethan as he caught up and stood behind her.

“Yeah? What are we cooking?”

“Udon?”

“Yeah. I’m cool with that. What about some beef too?”

“What kind of beef?”

“Hmm. What if we made a bunch of snack foods?”

“mmm. maybe.”

“Nigiri sushi?”

“Is that what you want?”

Ethan smiled guiltily as Hayley turned to look at him. She giggled quietly and pecked his cheek before turning back to the vegetable stall they were standing at. They spent another hour wondering around the market before making their way to Takeshi’s to make them lunch and hang out for the day.

As they arrived, Takeshi was outside cleaning the hallway as he spoke to himself in Japanese.

“Fūrigan! Nani no yaku ni mo tatanai gesshi dōbutsu! Hahaoya ga manā o oshieta koto wa arimasen ka? Firushī-”

(Hooligans! Good-for-nothing rodents! Did their mother's never teach them manners?! Filthy-)

Ethan looked on with wide eyes at the empty packets of various kind and half eaten fruit that was all over the floor before turning to look at Hayley.

“Goddofāzā! Nē! Kono konran o nokoshite kudasai, īsan to watashi wa sore o katadzukemasu.-Chū ni haitte yasunde mimasen ka?” Hayley interjected as she approached Takeshi and gently placed her hands on his arms as she looked at him with a kind smile.

(Godfather! Hey! Leave this mess, Ethan and I will clear it up. Why don't you go inside and rest?)

Takeshi looked back at Hayley thankfully and gave her a hug and single nod before turning to Ethan who waved.

“Uh.. Hello.” He smiled

“Hello. Let me take those bags inside for you.” Takeshi offered.

“Oh. No, that’s okay. Thank you. I’ve got them” Ethan smiled back and followed Takeshi inside before coming back out to find Hayley picking up the mess.

“You know.. It still amazes me that you’re pretty fluent in Japanese. How come you didn’t tell me?”

Hayley smiled at him. “There was really no need. I mean... you speak English so...”

Ethan let out a hearty chuckled that rumbled slightly in the back of his throat as he held out his hand. “Let me hold open that bag. We’ll get it done quicker if we-”

“Divide the problem. I know.” She laughed, finishing his sentence.

It didn’t take them long before Ethan was tying the bag and tossing it into the outside trash bin, then heading inside with Hayley to wash his hands so they could prepare the food.

Later in the day, Hayley’s father and step-mum arrived at Takeshi’s just as dinner was in the final stretch of being prepared. Hayley welcomed them inside and lead them to the sitting room where she offered them and Takeshi a glass of wine whilst Ethan stayed in the kitchen and watched over the food.

“So dad, Annie. How has your day been today?”

“It’s been good. We went into town and browsed the market.” Hayley’s father, Alex, replied.

“We managed to find you a couple of presents for your birthday and Christmas.” Annie added cheerily.

“Are you excited for your birthday this year-” Takeshi spoke but was interrupted by a shout from the kitchen

“UH HAYLEY!” Ethan shouted, Hayley’s eyes widened in horror and she ran to the kitchen where Ethan stood watching the pan that had caught fire.

“Oh my goodness!” Hayley exclaimed as she covered the pan with its lid before she grabbed the salt and started throwing it over the fire. “Well don’t just stand there babe! Wet a large cloth!” she shrilled at Ethan, who immediately obeyed her order.

“Hayley? Is everything-” Takeshi’s voice entered the kitchen as the flames luckily died out as the towel was smothered over the flames

“Everything is under control.” Hayley answered, assurance firm in her tone.

Takeshi gave Ethan an unamused look before turning his gaze back to Hayley and nodding stiffly and heading back into the living area. Ethan hug his head as he let out a heavy sigh, clearly ashamed with how he just handled himself and the situation. Hayley turned to him with fire in her eyes, but they softened a little when she saw the expression in his face and noted his body language.

Despite the small delay in their schedule, Hayley, Ethan, Annie, Alex were all seated at the dining table, with Takeshi sitting at the head of it as always. They held hands as they shared a prayer before digging into the vast array of food Hayley and Ethan had spent the majority of their day preparing. The atmosphere between Ethan and Takeshi felt a little tense due to the earlier mishap and in turn was offsetting the whole mood of the table. Although she tried her best to smoothing things out it only ended with Ethan and Takeshi getting into an intense heated argument before Ethan stormed out, Hayley of course excusing herself and running after him. By the time she had caught up however, he was already at the end of her Godfather’s road thanks to his long legs which carried him in large strides and when he was mad he always walked fast which resulted in Hayley running to keep up with him.

“Ethan babe, wait!” she shouted, lunging herself forwards and grabbing his wrist which forced him to stop.

“I’m not going back in there.” Ethan snapped, crossing his arms like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

“Would you listen to yourself for Christ’s sake! You’re a grown man and you’re acting like a 3 year old who has to share their toys. AGAIN!” Hayley screamed at him. He looked back at her with that dumbfounded look he always wore when she dared to yell at him like this. But tonight Hayley wasn’t in the mood for that. “You know what? I’m not doing this again. Not right now. If I can’t enjoy a nice meal with my family and boyfriend present, I’ll enjoy it alone. Go back to the hotel Ethan. And don’t wait up for me tonight. I’ll be checking in somewhere else.” She spat in disgust, Ethan watching her go as she turned on her heel and stomped back towards Takeshi’s house. Once she was out of sight, he sighed as his shoulders sagged low and hung his head in shame as he reluctantly slinked back towards the hotel that he was staying at.

Staying true to her word, Hayley didn’t return to the hotel room that night. It was the worst night’s sleep Ethan had endured for a while. It was cold, lonely and insufferable as the hours ticked by. Ethan stayed up until the early hours of the morning, reading one of Hayley’s books. He caught himself and what he was doing when he reached chapter six of the book, snorting at himself drivingly. What was he doing reading a romance novel? At 2 am no less. Rubbing his tired eyes he closed the book and slid down the bed, under the covers and hugging the book to his chest as his eyes slowly closed as sleep overtook him. The next day after Hayley had spent half of her morning back at Takeshi’s house, smoothing things out with him, she made her way back to the hotel and knocked on the door of the room she was staying in with Ethan. After about five minutes of him not answering she made her way to the front desk, asking for someone to come and open the door for her so that she could get inside. When it was opened the thanked the member of staff and stepped inside as they headed off back down the hall to work and slammed the door a little louder than was needed, but in the bed Ethan didn’t flinch or move a single muscle. Nor did he make any kind of sound to signify that he was in the room. Hayley then started worrying as she walked to the bedroom, but her scowl was back on her face when she saw him lying there fast asleep.

“ETHAN!” she shouted, but still he didn’t moved or make a sound.

She sat on the bed next to him and checked his pulse, which was fine. She then listened to his airways as best she could but those too, were fine. So she resorted to the last thing she could think of doing that was within reason. She stood next to his side of the bed and put all her strength into violently shaking him.

“Ethan Ramsey wake up!” she shouted

Finally, she elicited a grumble in response.

“You have that meeting today and you’re still in bed. Get UP!”

He let out a longer groan and a lowly mumble of “I don’t wanna.”

Hayley let out a frustrated growl before slapping his arm and storming out of the room and sitting on the couch in the living area of the room and turning the TV on. Fifteen minutes later Ethan sauntered in and plopped down in the space next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. Though she was now super pissed off with him and pulled away which earned a look of hurt and confusion from Ethan.

“You should shower and get ready for your conference call.” she said coldly.

A little baffled but mostly hurt, Ethan rose to his feet with a sigh and made his way to the bathroom and took a shower before getting ready and sitting at his laptop waiting for his conference call as he listened to Hayley laughing at the TV. The conference call went smoothly and by the time dinner had rolled around, Hayley had already made her way downstairs to the restaurant, he changed his suit quickly and made his way down to meet her. The first half of the meal was carrying a similar tenseness to the night prior as they ate their starters and then tucked into their steaks. Sighing, Ethan swallowed his bite and looked at Hayley.

“Babe. Why are you still ignoring me? Was what I done last night really that bad?” he asked, confusion in every crease on his face as well as in his gaze as he looked at her.

“You almost set his kitchen on fire Ethan.” She answered bluntly.

“I tried to apologize.” He countered

“That’s not the point. He now thinks I’m dating an incompetent man, regardless of your position as a doctor.” Hayley finished the last sip of wine in her glass before continuing to eat her steak. The tension between them dissipated after that brief conversation and the rest of dinner passed in silence that had a sadness in it.

Ethan paid the bill after they finished their dessert and they headed back to the room in a distanced silence and Ethan watched as Hayley went to the bedroom and shut the door. Sighing he made his way to the couch and spent about two hours watching shows he couldn’t fully understand before making his way to bed, only to find Hayley curled up on her side of the bed on top of the covers and still in her dress. Pain etched on her face, and his heart broke into a thousand piece as a tortured high-pitched sound of pain escaped her lips. He carefully slipped her out of her dress and into one of his t-shirts before sitting at his laptop and finding local things to do that could cheer her up and earn her full forgiveness. He felt like he had been searching for hours when he finally stumbled upon the perfect thing.

The following week Ethan, Hayley, Alex and Annie visited Fushimi Inari in Kyoto, the shrine of a thousand doors and rode on a bullet train through the mountains. Then finally the day of Ethan’s surprise for a Hayley came around. He was up with the sunrise and got ready for the day ahead, waking Hayley up 4 hours after he got up with breakfast before making sure he has their keycard in his wallet as Hayley grabbed a shower and got ready. About an hour later they were at their destination with Hayley blindfolded as Ethan lead her through the gates.

“Okay babe?” Ethan asked

“IIIIII... am fine. But where are we?” she asked.

“That would ruin the surprise.” Ethan replied.

Hayley pouted as her grip on his hands tightened until they came to a stop.

“Okay... I’m going to remove the blindfold now. Just, don’t scream when you see where we are.” He explained. Hayley frowned at the odd request, yet smiled as she noted the hopeful excitement in his tone as he spoke to her. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the light around them then gasped with a sharp inhale as she looked around at the foxes surrounding them.

“What? ... Why? ... Where? ... How? ... Wh- what?” she asked with a stutter as she took it all in.

“I ummm... know foxes aren’t always going to be there to help me fix everything. But this felt like something you couldn’t miss and.... there’s something else. You can... cuddle them.”

“I get to cuddle foxes?!” she asks in a quiet shrieky tone, tears of happiness glistening her eyes as she looked up at Ethan who was beaming back down at her.

“You sure do.” He said with a slight tilt of his head, still beaming at her. She jumped into his arms and hugged him tight, burying her face in his chest.

“Thank you.” She said, although her voice was muffled by the fabric of his clothes.

“You’re welcome. Happy early Birthday, Hayley.” Ethan said as he rubbed her back soothingly before she lowered herself back to the ground.

“Early birthday?” she quizzed.

“Yeah... I’ve got you gifts at home in Boston but... this felt like a special moment we could share that I couldn’t pass up and, well... It seems like a pretty great gift for you.” He explained.

Hayley giggled and shook her head lightly. “You will always include the details huh?” she questioned.

“I thought that was imperative to your knowledge of me by now Hayley McAllister.” Ethan quipped.

“It is. Maybe I just like to imperatively point out the obvious, Ethan Ramsey.” Hayley quipped back quickly, making him shake his head in bemusement as they held hands and followed a tour guide around the Zao Fox Village. After following the tour guide around an absorbing a lot of information, it was finally time for Hayley and Ethan to cuddle the foxes. Hayley was immediately in her zone and crouch down to cuddle with the adorable creatures as they surrounded her, whilst Ethan approached the tour guide.

“Excuse me. Um.. yes. Hello. Could you take a few pictures for us? But could you mainly focus on my girlfriend? I’m making an album for her final birthday present to give her and I know she’d love pictures to commemorate her time here.” He asked as he held out his phone.

“Oh! Of course!” the tour guide smiled, and Ethan smiled a thanks at him as he took the phone.

“Ethan, come and cuddle this one. She’s so soft.” Hayley cooed.

Ethan joined her and crouched down, cuddling the foxes too and Hayley watched as his facial features completely relaxed. She was in complete awe of the moment as she watched Ethan seemingly come into an element of his own, and a tear slipped down her cheek as a sudden pang of guilt entered her chest. He hadn’t looked this relaxed in a few days and it was all her fault for being so stubborn and holding a grudge against him that was petty, all to prove to him yet again she will never be taken for a fool. He looked up at her smiling, but it vanished when he saw the single tear sliding down her cheek.

“Hayley.... what’s wrong?” He asked. A deep concern etched on his face.

Hayley sniffled and chuckled a little, taking a deep breath before speaking her next words with a smile. “Nothing. I’m fine. These are... happy tears.” She wiped them from her face as Ethan’s smiled returned to his face.

“I knew you’d like this surprise. But my intention with it wasn’t to make you cry.” He half-joked with a small chuckle.

Hayley chuckled with them and they shared a kiss before cuddling with the foxes again and with permission, taking a couple of selfies to post on Pictagram later that evening.

----------------------------------------

After their visit to the Zao Fox Village, Hayley decided it was only right for Ethan and Takeshi to settle things between themselves over the kitchen incident. Afterall, it was only an accident and in reality a stupid grudge for two fully grown men to be holding against each other. So, they took a taxi over to Takeshi’s, Hayley was given a warm welcome upon arrival whereas Ethan was given a cold and distant “hello.”

Inside the house, Ethan and Takeshi argued for close to 3 hours with Hayley playing mediator and finally shouting for them to be quiet, explaining they were giving her a headache by going round in circles. Eventually the two men apologized to each other. Ethan for almost setting Takeshi’s house on fire, and Takeshi for holding the grudge longer than necessary in the first place. When they left the house and started walk back towards the hotel, everything felt a lot lighter and like it was back to normal. They were almost back at the hotel when Hayley tugged on Ethan’s hand, pulling him towards some arcades.

“Hayley. Why are you bringing us here? You know I hate loudness and crowds.”

“I do. But I also was to play some games and.. you need to win me one of those!” Hayley exclaimed with a pout as she pointed to a machine with cute plush dolphins inside it. Ethan looked between the machine and the cute face outing up at him before letting out a tired sigh, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance.

“Fine. But after this, we go back to the hotel. Yes?”

“Okay!” Hayley exclaimed and danced of father into the arcade and got some money in a little pot then started playing on some machines. Five machines and many loses later, Hayley had enough left for 3 machines. She was wondering around looking for one to play one and caught sight of Ethan across the room still trying to win her a dolphin, a smile came onto her features as she noted the concentration and determination in his eyes, was reflected in his facial features. When she turned around she gasped as she spotted the perfect machine to play on. She rushed over to the machine, which was full of plush elephants, as she looked at them she decided. She would win one for Ethan. Losing on this machine simply wasn’t an option. She inserted the money which was enough for 3 machines all into the one she was standing at and settled as she set her focus on winning an elephant.

After an agonizing 20 minutes, Hayley was down to her final go. This was it. She had to win an elephant. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes and repeated to herself 3 times “I’ve won the elephant. Thank you for letting me win the elephant.” then turned to the machine, her game face now in full action as she moved the claw towards an elephant. She held her breath as the claw descended towards the plush toy and closed it’s shiny metal talons around it. Time seemed to slow as Hayley watched the claw lift the elephant higher and higher, then towards the win zone of the machine until finally, she registered the machine going off loudly as she had won the elephant.

“ohmygod...” she muttered under her breath. “...I done it. ... I DONE IT!” she shrieked as she took the toy out through the flappy door at the bottom of the machine. As she looked up after turning around she saw Ethan making his way over to her, wearing a smile of his own and his hands behind his back.

“Hey!” she greeted with a smile and bright eyes.

“Hey. Good job babe.” he smiled back as he nudged his head towards the plush elephant in her arms.

“Thanks. I-it’s ... for you.” Hayley blushed, holding it towards him.

“For me?” Ethan queried.

Hayley nodded enthusiastically with widened eyes.

“Thank you.” he murmured with a smile.

Hayley’s smile faded as she realized the irony of the situation. “I thought it was perfect for you.”

Ethan chuckled as he took it, looking it over. “An elephant? But why?”

“Because an elephant is the most observant animal in the world. Their brains are bigger than the brains of any other land animal, and the cortex has as many neurons as a human brain.” Hayley told him with a smug smile.

“Okay. Well, I’m not really sure where to put this.” he admitted.

“I mean, in your hand is pretty perfect.” Hayley noted, smiling at him as he looked at her with a rare soft and tired smile of adoration.

Ethan chuckled slightly and pulled her closer for a hug. “You’re the best girlfriend I’ve had.” He muttered into her hair, planting a kiss on the crown of her head. “Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly, pulling back from her. “I won it by the way.” He smiled, bringing his other hand from behind his back to present a baby blue dolphin.

“Ahhh!” Hayley exclaimed happily as she took it, cuddling it to her chest. “Thank you babe!” she continued snuggling into Ethan’s chest happily.

“You’re welcome. Can we go back to the hotel now?” he yawned as he rubbed Hayley’s back.

“Yeah. We can.” she nodded as they let go of each other, facing each other with a smile before heading back to the hotel hand in hand.

----------------------------

Before they knew it, their return day had arrived, and they were doing last minute checks to make sure they had packed everything they brought with the plus anything extra they brought and were taking home.

“I’m kind of sad we’re going home today.” Hayley said as she checked the drawers in the bedroom.

“You are?” Ethan asked, his hand instinctively touching the side of her face and pulling her towards him. “Do you want to stop on the way to the airport and get a cup of your favourite tea?”

“No. It’ll be okay. I’ve just had so much fun here. I don’t want to leave.”

“I know how you feel. The thought of going back to Edenbrook now scares my brain too.” He kissed the top of her head with a chuckle.

“Scary is one way of describing it.” Hayley joked, closing the final drawer.

“Everything taken out from those?”

“Yep.”

“Good. The wardrobe and bookshelf in the living area are empty of our things too.”

“Awesome. I’ll check the bathroom and then we should be clear to checkout if we have everything.” Hayley sighed with a sad smile.

------------

16 hours later, Ethan and Hayley were back in Boston sitting in the comfort of Ethan’s bed as they snuggled together and just enjoyed each other’s company as they let their phones charge on the bedside table. They were drifting off when suddenly Hayley’s phone came to life with her ringtone, scaring them both awake and sending their heart rates soaring.

“Jesus. I am so sorry Ethan.” She yawned, scrambling from the bed to retrieve her phone. “Oh. It’s Sienna, I better speak to her quickly.” Hayley smiled apologetically as she excused herself from the room and headed to the kitchen.

Ethan sighed and looked around his now lonely room when he spotted the luggage in the corner when they had left it upon arriving home, spotting their plush toys sitting atop their suitcases next to each other. With a long sigh he pulled his tired body from the comfort of his sheets and slinked over to pick up his elephant plush Hayley had won him before getting back into bed with it.

“This is ridiculous.” He muttered to himself as he got comfortable and cuddled the stuffed toy.

About an hour later Hayley came back from her call with Sienna, which turned out to be Sienna, Elijah and Aurora. “Hey, sor-” she started to apologize but stopped herself when she saw Ethan fast asleep cuddling the plush elephant close to his chest and his hair slightly tousled from where he had moved around a little bit. Tip-toeing back to the bedside table, Hayley placed her phone back on charge and the turned to the luggage, grabbing her dolphin before snuggling in bed next the Ethan.

“Goodnight, Ethan.” She whispered as she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

Ethan smiled softly in his sleep as he scooted closer to Hayley and she smiled back, wrapping her arms around him protectively before closing her eyes and going to sleep.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days later after they were fully recovered from their jet lag, Hayley and Ethan returned to work looking as refreshed as the felt as they walked briskly down the halls of Edenbrook side by side towards the diagnostics office. Although when they arrived home they were dreading going back to work, they couldn’t help the matching smiles they were wearing due to feeling glad to be back. Ethan had already planned to do his dirty laundry that evening, but Hayley had agreed to meet up with her roommates at Donahue’s that night after their shifts to tell them all about her holiday to Japan with Ethan, Alex, Annie and Takeshi.

The day kept both Ethan and Hayley busy to the point where they hardly had a second to stop and only saw each other briefly for a new case that came through to the diagnostics team around mid-afternoon, when they shared a walk to the elevators.

“How are you?” Ethan asked her as they walked at a brisk pace.

“Good. Super busy.” Hayley answered as she jammed the down button on the wall.

“Are you coming back to mine after Donahue’s?”

“Oh. I was... I mean, I can. If you want me to.”

The truth was, Hayley had gotten so used to being around Ethan all the time, the thought of now leaving his side and having her double bed all to herself again felt like an impending loneliness she didn’t want to face.

“No. It’s up to you, Hayley. If you want to go home with your friends then feel free to do so.” Ethan said just as the elevator dinged.

Hayley put her hand in her coat pocket and pressed a key into Ethan’s hand. “It’s my locker key. Go into my bag and take out my apartment keys and wait for me at mine in my room. I’ll try and keep them out until at least midnight so you have a chance to do your laundry and pack an overnight bag.” Hayley spat out as the elevator emptied.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes. 100% sure.” She confirmed with a kiss and then stepped into the elevator.

“Why are you kiss me as if I’m leaving your side? I’m getting in too. Doofus.” He chuckled.

The day continued to pass in a busy hustle and bustle as doctors and nurses alike tended to their patients. Later that night just as discussed and planned, Ethan went back to his apartment to do his laundry and pack an overnight bag, whilst Hayley went to Donahue’s with her roommates plus Bryce, and kept them there for as long as possible.

“...So how long was the grudge held between Ramsey and your Godfather?” Bryce enquired.

“Longer than is acceptable by anyone’s standards?” Hayley replied before downing the last of her drink.

“But how long?” Jackie echoed

“Over a week.” Hayley answered bluntly.

“Fell free to tell me to shut up, but it seems pretty stupid to hold a grudge for that long over a fire that didn’t spread.” Aurora commented.

Hayley shrugged and stood up from her seat. “My round. Same again?” she asked and the whole table nodded and with a smile and nod back Hayley turned on her heel and headed over to the bar. “Hey Reggie. Same again please!” she exclaimed politely with a smile just as he phone started vibrating in her pocket.

Ethan ❤

FaceTime

Hayley chuckled to herself as she took a seat on a stool at the bar as she waited for her drinks and answered the call.

“I thought you hated face calls?” she quizzed straight away

Ethan scoffed mockingly. “Hello to you too babe.” He snarked with a slight smirk and Hayley laughed.

“What is it?” she asked as Reggie placed the tray of drinks in front of her.

“Which rooms is yours again? I don’t want to open the wrong door.”

“Oh my God.” She gawffed, “THAT’S why you’re facetiming me?”

Ethan stuttered as a blush visibly creeped up his neck and spread onto his face . “Uhhhhhh...”

“2 door on the right. The one right next door to the bathroom.” Hayley told him as she placed the money in Reggie’s hand and waited for the change.

Ethan walked in and turned the light on, closing the door behind him. “So.. how Donahue’s tonight?”

“The same as always. I’ve missed this place to be honest.”

“We’ll have to go together tomorrow night.” Ethan said as he dumped his bag on the floor next to Hayley’s drawers and mad himself comfy on her bed.

“Thanks Reg.” Hayley smiled as she took her changed from him and pocketed it before picking her phone back up. “What was that babe?” she asked

“I said. We’ll have to go there tomorrow night. Together.”

“Yeah. Of course.” She smiled at him but noted the sleepiness in his sapphire orbs. “Well I should go. You know how rowdy this lot can get, and, you should get ready for bed. We’ll be leaving here soon.”

Ethan sighed with a little pout.

“Ethan. You’re a grown man, we’re having one more round after this and then we’re leaving. Stop pouting at me.”

“I buy you a family trip and you’re still mean to me.” he joked behind a yawn.

Hayley chuckled and turned towards her tabled as she head someone shouting her name. “COMING!” she shouted back then turned back to her phone screen. “Look. I have to go, but I’ll be home soon okay?”

“Fineee.” Ethan huffed like a little child. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you!” Hayley chimed

“I love you too” Ethan responded, and they waved goodbye and them hung up.

Hayley returned to the table and placed everyone’s respective drinks in front of them, then took her seat.

“So. Hayley. Dr. McAllister.” Elijah stated, taking a sip of his beer. “What else did you do on your delightfully long break?”

Hayley spent the next 45 minutes talking about what she, Ethan and her family done whilst in Japan.

“And what was your favourite thing?” Sienna asked as Hayley took a sip of her drink.

“I’ll have to give you my top 3. Fushimi Inari in Kyoto, the shrine of a thousand doors. That was an amazing experience. Then we went into the heart of Kyoto and visited a bamboo forest. But Ethan is behind the thing I think I enjoyed the most. I got to cuddle with foxes at the Zao Fox Village and they were so ridiculously adorable. They even made Ethan smile after frowning for so long because of the whole feud, grudge thing.” Hayley answered.

“Wait. Dr. Ramsey smiled at foxes?” Bryce asked, stunned.

“Well yeah. He’s human not a robot Bryce.” Hayley snapped.

Bryce held his hands up and widened his eyes in surrender before finishing his drink.

--------------------------

Soon, the gang had finished their drinks and were back out walking the cold streets of Boston.

“Hayley?” Jackie asked.

“Yeah?”

“Just out of curiosity. What was your favourite thing at Fushimi Inari?”

“Hmmm...” Hayley pondered. “... Probably just getting to experience it with my family and Ethan. But you guys will see more in our little travel vlog we’re putting together. We got blessings from the high priest there to film a little bit of footage for it.”

“You got Ramsey to be in vlogs?!” Elijah exclaimed

“Elijah come on. This is Hayley we’re talking about. The woman can get anyone to do anything.” Aurora pointed out as they rounded the corner onto their street.

“That’s true. Very strong and resilient is our Hayley. Not to be taken for a fool either.” Elijah said back.

“You’ve got that right!” Hayley exclaimed and they all laughed as they headed inside, waving goodbye to Bryce who carried on towards his complex not too far away.

Inside the apartment, the roommates all gathered in the living area with glasses of water.

“Alright guys, tomorrow’s a big day with the Governor coming back to the hospital. Let’s down these and them head to bed. We’ll need all the rest we can get.” Hayley slurred slightly.

Every cheersed their water before downing it then saying goodnight and heading to bed. When Hayley entered her room, Ethan looked at her tiredly out of one eye from her bed.

“You’re home.” He whispered huskily with a tired smile.

“Yeah.” Hayley smiled. “How did your laundry night go?” she continued in a hushed tone as she changed into her pyjamas

“Good. I just need to fold it all when I get home tomorrow.” He replied, watching her intently.

“I’ll come and help you.” Hayley stated as she slid into bed next to Ethan. Cuddling into his warm chest.

“Thank you.” replied Ethan

“No problem.” Hayley yawned. “Hey. Ethan?” she asked.

“mmm?” he hummed

“I’ve been thinking. And we’re sort of doing our own paint by numbers with our relationship.”

“How so?” he quizzed, eyes closed yet ears alert and listening intently.

“Well. Our relationship is the blank canvas. And each activity, event or tragedy we’ve been through, are going through currently, or are going to go through together in the future. Is the colour we’re adding to paint our own beautiful picture of what we perceive love to be.”

A silence stretch between them and for a moment Hayley thought Ethan had fallen asleep when he suddenly spoke. “Then I want our love to make a picture that’s as beautiful as you.”

“Could it be an elephant and fox standing on a shoreline, looking out at a dolphin?” Hayley asked.

“It can be whatever you want it to be babe.” Ethan responded.

Hayley smiled into his chest and snuggled closer as Ethan pulled the covers around the securely.

“Goodnight babe.” Hayley whispered.

“Goodnight beautiful.” Ethan yawned back, wrapping his arms protectively around Hayley as they finally settled for the night.

#choices stories you play #playchoices #pixelberry studios #ethan ramsey #ethan jonah ramsey #dr ramsey x f!mc #dr ramsey #pb oph f!mc #oph f!mc #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey fanfiction #choices fanfiction #dr ethan ramsey #dr hayley mcallister #dr mcallister #dr ramsey x dr mcallister

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wizardysseus · 5 years ago

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@veliseraptor replied to your post “if you think i’m an insufferable odysseus liker now, imagine if homer…”

tell me how people talk about book 5 wrongly please

there two things in particular i want to hit on.

(1) calypso’s speech to hermes

when hermes comes to tell calypso to let odysseus sail back to ithaca, she rails at the double standard of male gods separating goddesses from their human lovers. and readers love it. twitter loves it, emily wilson seems to love it, freshman english majors in my classic lit class loved it.

“You cruel, jealous gods! You bear a grudge whenever any goddess takes a man to sleep with as a lover in her bed... So now, you male gods are upset with me for living with a man. A man I saved! ... I cared for him and loved him, and I vowed to set him free from time and death forever.” (5.118-20,129-130,135-7, tr. wilson)

i’m going to bounce translations a bit, because i have, uh (checks notes) three on hand; wilson emphasizes the gendered double standard most. and... yeah, i get why everybody wants to talk about it. the odyssey is chock full not only of those double standards, but of female characters speaking for themselves (especially relative to, say, the iliad). but it drives me up the wall when people talk about how persuasive or sympathetic calypso’s speech is and refuse to acknowledge one sort of incredibly crucial detail --- that the thing calypso is arguing for is her right to own a human man.

by the time we meet odysseus, he’s been on ogygia for seven years and wants very much to go home. here’s wilson again:

She found him on the shore. His eyes were always tearful; he wept sweet life away, in longing to go back home, since she no longer pleased him. He had no choice. He spent nights with her inside her hollow cave, not wanting her though she still wanted him. By day he sat out on the rocky beach, in tears and grief, staring in heartbreak at the fruitless sea. (149-158)

and my other translations, just for fun!

fitzgerald:

[She] went to find Odysseus in his stone seat to seaward---tear on tear brimming his eyes. The sweet days of his life time were running out in anguish over his exile, for long ago the nymph had ceased to please. Though he fought shy of her and her desire, he lay with her each night, for she compelled him. But when day came he sat on the rocky shore and broke his own heart groaning, with eyes wet scanning the bare horizon of the sea. (158-66)

fagles:

[She] found him there on the headland, sitting, still, weeping, his eyes never dry, his sweet life flowing away with the tears he wept for his foiled journey home, since the nymph no longer pleased. In the nights, true, he’d sleep with her in the arching cave---he had no choice--- unwilling lover alongside lover all too willing... But all his days he’d sit on the rocks and beaches, wrenching his heart with sobs and groans of anguish, gazing out over the barren sea through blinding tears. (165-175)

this isn’t odysseus retelling his story --- it’s the narrator, who is at least arguably more reliable. (spark notes, which i occasionally consult because i forget what chapters things happen in, says that odysseus is “sulking,” which, wow.)

when calypso says he can leave, his response is wary at best. in each of these translations, he meets her news with a shudder, accuses her of plotting against him, and exacts an oath from her not to harm him. “Goddess, you have some other scheme in mind, / not my safe passage” in wilson (172-3), “Surely you’re plotting / something else, goddess” in fagles (192-3), and in fitzgerald:

“After these years, a helping hand? O goddess, what guile is hidden here? … I take no raft you grudge me out to sea. Or yield me first a great oath, if I do, to work no more enchantment to my harm.” (183-4,188-90)

it massively weirds me out that i regularly find people online who characterize odysseus as swanning around the mediterranean having sexy fun times. (there’s also circe, and it’s interesting that odysseus refuses to sleep with her until she swears a similar oath not to harm him. but i’m talking about book 5, when odysseus is several years older and much more desperate.) this is not a happy guy!

your mileage may vary as to how sympathetic you find odysseus in all of this. i like odysseus because i like Terrible Con Men Who Are Very Sad And Cry A Lot. but of course, we meet a lot of other characters in the poem who are in just as bad a way, if not worse. most of them get neither the freedom odysseus does, nor the same compassion from the narrator, the gods, and odysseus himself --- most notably, the twelve slave women he and telemachus hang at the end of book 22. if we’re going to talk about double standards, surely that deserves attention.

and yet! and yet. none of that changes the fact that odysseus wants to go home (his most, if not only, sympathetic trait), and calypso won’t let him.

calypso is interesting! her speech has ramifications for the rest of the epic, for sure! i just wish more people could talk about it without sounding like calypso effectively utilized girl power by keeping odysseus as a sex slave for seven years.

(2) odysseus’ response when calypso offers him immortality

calypso gives odysseus permission to build a raft. but before he begins work on it, she tries to change his mind, even offering him immortality... and odysseus wants nothing to do with it.

So Odysseus, with tact, said, “Do not be enraged at me, great goddess. You are quite right. I know my modest wife Penelope could never match your beauty. She is a human; you are deathless, ageless. But even so, I want to go back home, and every day I hope that day will come. If some god strikes me on the wine-dark sea, I will endure it. By now I am used to suffering---I have gone through so much, at sea and in the war. Let this come too.” (215-24, wilson)

wilson calls him tactful, fagles “worldly,” and fitzgerald “the strategist”; in each of these translations, he couches the rejection with a plea not to be angry with him. and yet... people want to pretend like what he says is how he actually feels about penelope? give me a break.

(granted, i see this take less often than the one above. but it still irks me! i’m irked!)

he finally has the chance to go home, and a goddess who has held him captive makes a last-ditch effort to insult his wife to convince him to stay, and you think that’s the moment odysseus is going to choose to be sincere?

like, this is what wilson has to say about it in her introduction:

Why exactly does Odysseus make this surprising choice? The poem never gives us an explicit answer---an omission that makes the hero’s yearning for home all the more resonant and moving.

YEAH, WHAT A MYSTERY.

odysseus’ entire Thing is that he isn’t straightforward. you don’t have to like him and you certainly don’t have to feel sorry for him. but --- of all the flaws and questionable-at-best decisions you could choose to pick apart! --- i strongly object to this idea that odysseus’ motives and actions in book 5 don’t make sense. just because, what, you think he should have stayed with calypso? you don’t buy that he loves penelope? come the fuck on. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again: if you don’t read odysseus’ identity as absolutely rooted with his home and wife and son, no wonder the poem falls apart.

#veliseraptor #replies #homer is where the heart is #thoughts #long post #rape tw #... my other rants are not this involved

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nancywheelxr · 5 years ago

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I mean, tbh I don't even know when I started shipping them(Elrohir and Legolas), they're just cute I guess and there is definitely not a lot of content for them which makes it a truly struggle. I was thinking that maybe you could write something with a modern au where they are in highschool/college (the one that you prefer), with an established relationship and one of them is jealous because someone is being too friendly with the other and maybe you could include something fluffy?)

Big mood, anon! I remember being in the early years of fanfic, still scouring fanfiction.net for content and I had it worse, trust me, because 14 years-old-me did not know English. The number of good fanfics in Portuguese was way too low.

BUt, I hope you like this one!

Aragorn loves the twins, truly, he does.

But sometimes, sometimes, he wants nothing more than throttle them.

“Elrohir,” he says slowly, refusing to look up from his textbook, “if you groan one more time, I'm going to disembowel you with this pen.”

“And how would that work for that criminal law degree?” Elrohir is raising his eyebrows, Aragorn can tell. He's probably smirking, too, the bastard.

“I'd get away with it,” Aragorn continues, skimming uselessly through the same paragraph for the third time, “and Elladan would help me, I know he would.”

There's another deeply theatrical groan from the bed. “Nobody loves me anymore in this house.”

“When's Legolas back again? God knows you're insufferable when he's away.”

The hesitant pause is brief, almost imperceptible, but Aragorn has been around him since they were kids and the big house on top of the hill had looked like a castle to his eyes. He'd asked Glorfindel if he was a knight of the Round Table the first time they met. He'd never lived that down either.

Anyway, trip down memory lane aside, Aragorn has been friends with the twins since they were all dumb children and he knows his friend enough to know all this huff and puff has a kernel of worry buried in it.

He swivels around in his chair to face him. “Okay, what's up with you?”

“Can't a man miss his boyfriend in peace?" Elrohir shuffles on the bed, looking away from Aragorn to pluck at the sheets. “You know me, 'm just being dramatic.”

“Yeah,” Aragorn says, “I do know you, so quit trying to bullshit me and tell me what's really bothering you.”

Elrohir sighs, groans, dropping an arm over his face. “It’s stupid,” he warns him, “and dumb. And I know what you’re gonna say, but I can’t help it, okay?”

“This has to do with Legolas, then?” Aragorn guesses. It’s not everyone that leaves Elrohir quite this distressed. “I thought he had just gone into another of his hikes?”

“He did,” he scowls, “with Gimli. His best friend ever. Because Gimli actually likes hiking and camping and visiting all sorts of caves and waterfalls and commune with the forest or whatever.”

Aragorn pauses. “Are you jealous?”

It’s not too far fetched a thing to be, he admits, considering how college life has been doing a damn good job of keeping everyone too busy to hang out or too tired to do anything other than invading each other’s dorms and taking up space the day before a quiz. But then again, he knows both Legolas and Elrohir since they were all kids, he’s seen they go from pulling each other’s pigtails to being best friends to being disgustingly in love.

He can’t imagine how Elrohir could possibly start being jealous now.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Elrohir says after a minute, dropping his arm to peer at Aragorn. His eyes are more worried and serious than expected. “It’s not– I’m not jealous of Gimli or anything, I trust Legolas and all. It’s just– come on, I’m in med school. The last time I went to a hike I got stung by a bee and found out I was allergic. How long until he realizes there are better people out there for him? People like Gimli, who likes all the same shit he likes. Who won’t have to cancel dates because he has to go to some stupid hospital party to schmooze or something.”

It takes him a while to process all of– that. “Okay, so you’re not jealous of Gimli?”

“I’m jealous of how easy it is for him.”

“Nope, you lost me again. Easy to what?”

“To fit with him, you know?” Elrohir runs a hand through his hair, “nobody would be surprised if they were together– they’re just– they get each other, they like the same stuff, they’re majoring in almost the same thing, for god’s sake! Sometimes it just feels like I’m waiting for the day he realizes it’d be easier with someone like that.”

Oh. Aragorn moves to sit on the bed, nudging Elrohir out of the way for a spot at the foot of the mattress. “I see,” he considers his words carefully, “yeah, maybe they do get each other, that’s why they’re best friends. But look, ‘Ro, how long have you been together now? Three years? Four? Anyone with eyes can see how much you guys love each other. Elladan and I had to listen to both of you pining separately for like, months. Don’t you think you can trust Legolas to know who’s best for him?”

Because that’s what’s really bothering him, isn’t it? Elrohir thinks he’s not good enough for him, which is insane because Aragorn has never seen two people more in love– Arwen and himself notwithstanding, of course.

All at once, Elrohir seems to deflate. “I guess. I just love him so much, I worry he won’t be as happy with me as he could be.”

“Legolas loves you,” Aragorn reminds him, “and you love him. That’s the important stuff– the rest, you can figure out as you go.”

Elrohir smiles. “I suppose you’re right. Since when did you become oh-so wise?”

There are about a dozen ways he could answer that, not all of them very nice, but Aragorn doesn’t have to decide if he’s done coddling him because the door to his room swings open.

“Elladan told me you were here,” says Legolas, walking in without waiting for any sort of invitation because apparently, Aragorn’s room is everyone’s hang out spot now. By all means, nevermind his quiz tomorrow. “Oh, hey, Aragorn,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.

“I thought you wouldn’t be back until Friday,” Elrohir blinks, sitting up to smile at his boyfriend despite his previous sour mood.

“Yeah, well, turns out there was some instability in the caves, so the Rangers closed them off until further notice,” he shrugs, dropping his bag on the floor. That’s gonna be a bitch to clean, Aragorn can tell already, what with the mud puddle it’s oozing.

Legolas grins, stepping closer to kiss Elrohir, and Aragorn politely looks away because someone in this goddamn dorm should have some sense of decorum. Not that the happy couple over there should even be here. God knows neither of them lives there. Oh no, Aragorn got a single this year. Peace and quiet, they told him. No roommate to interrupt his studying.

Clearly, the counselors had not taken into account his obnoxious family.

Turning around back to his desk, to his textbook, to the same paragraph he had been trying to read since Elrohir barged into his room three hours ago, Aragorn sighs and pretends he can’t still hear the conversation going on behind him.

“You look tired,” Elrohir is saying, “did you come straight here?”

Legolas hums in agreement. “Yup. I wanted to see you,” he admits, and it sounds like he climbed up in the bed too. Great. He’s probably spreading mud into the sheets. “ ‘sides, there’s no place like home, right?”

There’s a pause and Aragorn is very tempted to sneak a look to see what’s going on, he’s invested on this now, okay, but he stays where he is, nose buried again on his book, and waits for Elrohir to pretend he’s not, like, having a crisis or anything. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Legolas says, “I always miss you in these hikes, but I like this, I like knowing I’ll be coming home to you.”

Well, sounds like Aragorn isn’t the only one subjected to Elrohir’s rants; Elladan must have tipped Legolas off about the impending doom and gloom in here.

Their conversation tapers off into something quieter and Aragorn finally manages to focus long enough to finish a whole chapter of his textbook before allowing himself a glance back.

He smiles.

On the bed, the couple is asleep, wrapped around each other, and the look on Elrohir’s face is so peaceful, such a contrast to the stormy expression from before, that Aragorn almost forgives them for the dirt and leaves scattered around the mattress.

Almost. They’re still so paying for the laundromat.

#lotr #lord of the rings #aragorn #elrohir #legolas #elrohir x legolas #look an ask #elrohir x legolas tag #lotr tag

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lavenderblossom74 · 6 years ago

Text

Things Like

SUMMARY: Sometimes, Dick forgets how much he has to be grateful for and how lucky he is to have Bruce. But sometimes, he also remembers.

Rolling down memory lane yay! This is an old one-shot of mine, hope you all enjoy!

After five years of living with the man, Dick sometimes forgets how truly lucky he is to have Bruce.

It isn't that there are times when he stops being appreciative, because Dick will always—always—remember the man who had been there for him when no one else had.

It's just that sometimes, Dick forgets the little things. The little things that so often become so normal that eventually they’re easy to take for granted.

Things like Bruce helping with a school project.

The scene: One of the many living rooms in the manor, the floor is littered with paper, popsicle sticks, pipe cleaners, puffy balls and of course, glitter.

Beside Dick, paint containers are spread out before him. Bruce in all his artistic vision holds a paintbrush (he’s the only person Dick has ever met who can make a paintbrush look intimidating)

“So I’m painting the words “Kinetic Motion” in blue, right?” Bruce asks.

12 year old Dick nods enthusiastically “Yes! Aaand…” There's a theatrical dramatic pause “I’LL SPRINKLE THE GLITTER!”

Bruce gives him an exasperated look before muttering something under his breath. Catching something about “glitter” and “death wish” Dick just grins as Bruce begins to paint.

“You have a very steady hand you know” Dick observes.

“Mhm” Bruce answers automatically, most of his attention focused on the poster board in front of him.

As he finishes up, Dick—as promised—happily sprinkles glitter with more joy than even a fascinated two year old would have.

Bruce is just glad Alfred put covered the entire wooden floor with layers upon layers of plastic.

After writing down the definition of Kinetic Energy in a sparkly green pen, Dick begins the fun of the party.

His assignment is to make a model that represents Kinetic Energy. So he decides it's a good excuse as any to make a roller coaster.

A roller coaster made out of an assortment of pipe cleaners, colorful popsicle sticks, fluffy puffy balls, and a whole lot of glue.

The rest of the night goes something like this:

“You just glued my fingers. YOU JUST GLUED MY FINGERS!! I’M GONNA DIE, I’M GONNA DIE. WHAT IF THIS GLUE HAS LIKE, WEIRD CHEMICAL PROPERTIES AND I GET A WEIRD BACTERIA AND OH MY GOD, MY WHELMED FINGERS! THEY WERE TOO YOUNG TO BECOME OVERWHELMED!! WHY DEAR FINGERS, —WHY??”

*Amused look from source of great panic* “You done?”

*Dick stares at panic source incredulously* “Am I done? AM I DONE! I WILL SHOW YOU DONE—”

Bruce cuts him off by calmly unsticking Dick’s fingers.

*gape* “You couldn't have done that before I went ballistic?!”

*Stare*

“Pipe cleaners hate me. This is a fact.” This is what Dick says as he stubbornly gives an innocent pipe cleaner the death glare.

“Really?” Bruce wryly asks.

“YES!” His charge exclaims. “I mean, is it my fault the stupid first hill has to be high so that the ball we send down can gain energy from it so it can continue the rest of the way? Is it my fault roller coasters are biased against poor 8th graders? IS IT MY FAULT KINETIC ENERGY EXISTS AND I HAVE TO DO A PROJECT FOR IT?!” By the end of his rant, Dick is standing up.

As Bruce sticks a puffy ball onto a pipe cleaner, he retorts, “Yes. You chose the model, didn't you?”

Dick opens his mouth to retort, then he closes it. “Whatever” he grumbles but sits back down and continues working in his roller coaster.

Bruce just smirks.

“Long was the haggard night. One blue eyed pre-teen (cough official teen cough) works hard to finish the project assigned by his torturer—teacher—that is due tomorrow. He is ready to drop dead from exhaustion and his stomach clenches in painful hunger but he valiantly continues his work. He will not back down, he will not give up, he—”

“—would not be here if he hadn’t decided to leave everything to the last minute.”

Dick glares at Bruce who shrugs innocently, “It’s true”

“Don’t intrude upon my enthralling narrations!” Dick whines.

Enthralling … ?

At Bruce’s look, Dick pouts. “Don't Judge!!” In a quieter voice he mumbles, “You’re just jealous I can use bigger words than you”

*Another look* I heard that

Dick pouts again. “Whatever”

After what feels like eons, the adrenaline starts to fade. Dick knows his previous excitement and absolute optimism are on their deathbed.

And it’s because this stupid roller-coaster-project-thing was so annoying! And frustrating. And mean. And a bully. And uncooperative. And generally insufferable.

He’s done all the calculations and the model should be working—the ball they are rolling should be able to continue the entire way depending only on the initial push… But it isn't!

Every time he tries to make it work with the pipe cleaners, is only another time he fails and becomes even more frustrated.

The solution is simple—it has to be—But Dick’s brain has become a slushy and is so mushy that he can't see the answer.

He’s ready to throw in the towel, crash on his bed, and forget about this dumb project.

But then his grade suffers.

And so does Robin.

Even after knowing Dick left school work to the last minute, Bruce hasn't said anything about grounding Robin but if Dick doesn't pull this project off and proves he can handle both his duties, Dick knows he will say something then.

Suddenly, Bruce nudges him. Dick looks up to an unreadable face.

“Go to bed,” Bruce tells him

Dick’s eyes widen in panic. Because he knows what's going to happen next, Bruce is going to say that in the morning, they're going to “talk” about how Dick needs to be more responsible and how he needs to prioritize. Then he’s benching Robin.

Dick opens his mouth to say that No, he can finish his project and sure maybe he was a little irresponsible but he’d done the actual research beforehand and honestly hadn't thought making the roller coaster model would've taken so long. It wasn't like he’d decided to be sleep deprived and frustrated on purpose!

Before he can anything in though, Bruce repeats himself. “Go to bed, chum”

Then he says, “I’m going out for a couple of hours; When I get back, I'll wake you so you can finish up and actually comprehend what you're doing.” Bruce stares at the roller coaster pointedly, “For now, just get some sleep.”

And so Dick sleeps. 3 hours later, Bruce—as promised—wakes him up and helps Dick finish up the roller coaster.

Dick had been right before—the solution had been indeed very simple.

Then, Dick heads to school and turns his project in.

Bruce doesn't mention anything about it afterwards nor does he give any reason to imply Robin is grounded.

Dick makes an effort to be more responsible with his school work from then on though.

It isn't until two months later that he finds out that the day Bruce helped him on his project was also the day he’d been awake for more than 24 hours already.

He also finds out that despite having two important board meetings that morning, Bruce had still kept his promise about waking him up and helping Dick finish the project.

---

Things like Bruce letting Dick rant about anything and everything.

Age: 10

Rant Topic: Spicy Foods

“It makes no sense! How come that food is so spicy, how come it makes your mouth feel like it's living fire, how come it makes your ears burn and feel hot n’ cold, how come it’s so hot, if it gonna be so good?! With the hint of lemon and the flavor it leaves in your mouth… Mmmm!” *Dick smiles to himself like a sap before snapping out of it* “... Exactly my point!! Why does spicy food enjoy torturing a kid like me?? I mean did I ever do anything against it? Who was the brilliant person who thought it would be an awesome idea to add hot spices to food anyway?!”

Bruce: “Do you need more water?”

Age: 11

Rant topic: The English Language

“In my humble opinion, English is a dumb language.” *as he rakes his fingers down his face* “I mean why are there so many rules?! Silent E, if it's beside a verb you say it's name, i before e except after c, ph makes a fffff sound… So complicated!! And half of them don’t follow their own rules half the time!! Toe-may-toe, Toe-ma-toe… Same thing!!”

Bruce: *shrug* “That’s why you learn other languages”

Age: 13

Rant Topic: Exams

“I’m done… Mark my words Bruce—are you marking them? I. Am. Done. DonedonedonedonedoneDONE!! My brain cells feel non existent right now… I am stressed beyond relief and I'm still nowhere near done with all these exams! It is impossible to retain all this information!! Who cares about random math dudes who found the formulas to life changing equations or the dates of every major event in history?! We aren't gonna need the info in life so why bother? Why does a test have to define you as a person anyway?”

Bruce: *in his most insightful voice* “It doesn't”

---

Things like sitting at the counter and simply eating along with Dick. An apple, a pear, a banana, a kiwi, baby carrots, a ripe tomato… no matter the fruit, the vegetable—just knowing that he wasn't alone… Sometimes that was enough.

Some of his funniest memories had actually happened at the counter.

Some of his saddest memories had happened at the counter too.

Some of the moments that didn't stand out, that weren't spectacular, that were just there—they'd happened at the counter too.

---

Things like playing a game of basketball with him.

Things like hiding junk food behind Alfred’s back (but at the same time not really since Dick suspected no one—not even the World's Greatest Detective—could hide anything from Alfred).

Things like taking Dick out when it snowed and helping him build a snow fort.

Things like quizzing Dick for his next Mathlete Competition.

Things like hearing about how Dick’s day went practically everyday and never complaining about it.

Things like everyday things.

Things that when Dick stands back and looks at his life—actually really looks at it—he realizes that he should not take for granted.

Things that make him understand how much luck he has in his life. Even after all the tragedy he has gone through, luck somehow found it’s way to stay.

Luck or Hope.

Knowing that there are still people in this world who care for him, knowing that a man he has learned to love and look up to cares for him so much that the care eventually feels normal…

Somehow, that feels like so much more than just luck.

---

When Dick silently enters Bruce’s study, the man looks up.

When Dick whispers, “Thank you,” Bruce blinks in confusion.

When Dick says, “Thank you for everything,” Bruce’s eyes slowly comprehend the meaning behind the words. And he smiles.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne is a good dad #dick grayson #batman #robin #batman and robin #daddy!bats #Dick being thankful for Bruce #fanfic #LB writes

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hamlets-ghost-zaddy · 6 years ago

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it happened during lunch period

Babe Heffron x Eugene Roe

Summary: (Teacher AU) Bill is a hardworking math teacher with few wants in this world: eating the taco salad made by his wife for lunch in peace being the most reasonable of them (in his humble opinion). However, his best buddy, Babe Heffron and his spiraling panic over the new anatomy teacher, Eugene Roe, would disagree.

The door to the classroom eases closed after the final pack of kids, tottering off in a slow-moving herd to stuff their faces with the cafeteria’s consistently mediocre food, and Bill watches it inching closed slowly, slowly, just a few more millimeters and he can safely reach for his taco salad, it’s almost there—

“Bill!”

The door swings open, banging against the outside yellow lockers outside, and admitting a fast-moving orange-haired blurred into the sanctity of Bill’s classroom. Bill’s eyes don’t properly register the blur or its hair (though Bill has a ground total of two friends in this school who have enough disregard for their own wellbeing that they’d interrupt his lunch hour, and only one of them has red-hair) until Babe Heffron has his palms splayed on Bill’s desk, leaning over to emphasis the seriousness of his declaration: “Bill, we have a serious problem.”

Bill’s not sure when Babe started to use plurals when talking about his personal issues. He can’t say he likes it.

“What?” Bill asks before shoving Babe’s hands off his desk adding, “Remove your grubby mitts.”

Babe doesn’t let Bill’s tone—equal parts exasperated and annoyed, and no parts concerned, which would be truly ideal—deter him. He slumps into a recently vacated student’s desk, dropping his forehead into a hand. “We got to do something. It’s Eugene Roe.”

“Who?” Bill grunts, opening the lower drawer of his desk and fishing out the Tupperware container of taco salad Fran sent to school with him. They traded who was on lunch prep duty every other day and, while Bill is mighty proud of his chicken salad sandwiches (thank you very much), he also will be the first to admit Fran makes a bombass lunch.

“You know, Eugene Roe, the anatomy teacher?” When he’s met with a blank stare from Bill, Babe expands: “The new one?”

“Ah,” Bill grunts, prying the lid off his lunch before fetching out his fork (real metal because Bill loves the Earth, double thank you very much). “Why didn’t you say that to begin with, huh? Expect me to know the science department’s names, Jesus fucking Christ.” The rivalry between the science and math departments—crammed into the same wing of the school the majority of last semester after the Physics teacher, Speirs, allowed his students to catapult a Barbie (a Barbie on fire, no less) into a pipe of the water main thereby flooding the science halls—is well known. And, really, English teacher or not, Babe knows better than to mention a science teacher to Bill.

Babe’s expression is decidedly unimpressed. “Bill, you wanna hear the problem or not?”

Bill considers saying ‘no’ as he crunches into a bite of lettuce, tortilla, and ground beef. Then again, his only other lunchtime entertainment would be grading quizzes, and Babe’s problem is bound to be less depressing than fifth period’s attempts at trigonometry. “I mean, if I have to,” Bill replies.

Encouraged, Babe lifts his face from his hand, only to use to it to wave and illustrate his story. “I’ve gotta say something to the guy, Bill, I just don’t know what; I mean, he’s a new colleague, I can’t—”

“Babe, you’re spiraling,” Bill observes. He learned the term from his buddy, Lewis Nixon, the psychology teacher, during a faculty meeting the other week (in true form, neither were paying actual attention to what the school district’s superintendent, Sink, was saying) and Bill is probably, admittedly, using it wrong. Still, it feels right.

It does seem to do the trick because Babe cuts himself off to heave a sigh. He gets to the point: “The dude has been dropping my packet copies off in my room—like, he even came in during the middle of one of my classes! Like, yeah, he apologized and everything, but it was so unprofessional! And then he showed me these notes he took during the faculty meeting—”

“Wait,” Bill interrupts, mouth full and ranch dribbling down his chin. What can he say: he’s a man of refinement and culture. “He took notes during the faculty meeting?”

“I know,” Babe nods, vindicated. A spark in Babe’s eyes, a spark Bill associates with discussions of Sunday night football, bottomless wing deals from Buffalo Wild Wings, and first editions of Steinbeck novels, lights in Babe’s eyes. “Like, seriously, who the fuck does that?”

Stuffing his face with more taco salad to disguise the slow-growing, shit-eating grin curling his mouth, Bill echoes: “Who the fuck.” (Though, it’s around food, so it sounds more like the caterwauling of a minorly inconvenienced cat).

“It made me look like I wasn’t paying attention,” Babe adds.

“You weren’t paying attention,” Bill corrects, because he can’t let the implication stand: if Bill or Nix—or math department head Joe Toye, or chronically grumpy Johnny Martin—weren’t paying attention, there was no way in fuck Babe Heffron was paying attention. “Plus,” Bill drawls, “He did save your ass; Webster would have dragged you if you couldn’t come up with the name of the new book they’re wanting for Common Core. And he’s insufferable enough as is. Remind me why the fuck we decided to invite him to Tuesday morning coffee?”

Frowning and looking uncharacteristically thoughtful—Bill wonders if smoke will start pouring from Babe’s ears, his brain is working so hard—Babe mutters, “We wanted to give Liebgott someone to fight with, remember?” Pause. “Can’t believe they’re replacing The Great Gatsby with John fucking Green.” Another pause. “Like, seriously, if that’s the administrations idea of author diversity and representation than—”

Sensing a brewing literature rant that will ruin any enjoyment he’ll have eating his taco salad in all statistical probability (especially as he is getting to the guacamole layer), Bill hastily prompts: “Babe, you were griping about Roe?”

“Oh, right,” Babe says, shaking his head as if to physically clear his brain of any further mutterings of ‘manic pixie dream girls’ or ‘romanticizing sicknesses.’ “So as if the copies, the interrupting class, and the notes aren’t enough, this little twerp—” Bill’s eyebrows furrow: twerp? Really? “—goes and fricking—! I mean, get a load of this: I let him use one of my whiteboard markers and instead of giving it back, he buys me a new pack! It was one of my good markers, too!”

“What happened to the original one?”

Babe shrugs. “Roe said some kids exploded it over a Bunsen burner.”

Bill opens his mouth to ask, decides he doesn’t want to know, and instead settles on, “Let me see if I got this straight: he delivers you copies of your lesson material so you don’t have to walk to the copy room way over in the BFE, he helps you not make an ass of yourself by filling you in about the meeting, and not only replaces your shit but gives you more than what you gave him to begin with?”

Nodding furiously through the whole summation, Babe declares a heated: “Exactly!” when Bill finishes, punctuating it. Red has risen in Babe’s cheeks, fiery enough to rival his hair, and his fists have clenched tight. “He’s making me look bad, Bill! Like I can’t function by myself as a teacher or grown-ass adult! I know he’s new and we have to create a welcoming work environment, but, seriously—”

“Babe,” Bill intones, because for all that his friend’s an idiot, this—by Bill’s estimation—is Babe really outdoing himself. He can’t stand how embarrassed he is for him. “Babe, you’re mad because Roe is being nice to you.”

“’Nice?’” Babe echoes, spluttering and choking over the word. The eloquence of an English teacher. “What? ‘Nice?’”

Bill nods gravely. “Nice.” To emphasize his point, he crunches into some particularly crisp lettuce.

“I—uh—what—?” Babe squawks. “Bill, ‘nice?’ What do you mean?”

“You’re an English teacher, Babe, you tell me what ‘nice’ means,” Bill retorts, casting his eyes to his classroom’s ceiling as if asking for divine intervention—or maybe Carwood Lipton’s intervention, his classroom directly above. When he returns his eyes to Babe, he finds the red, formerly staining his skin, drained, leaving Babe gaping like a gutted fish. Taking pity, Bill sighs and tries a different tactic, “Kid, he’s not trying to undermine you. He’s trying to be nice.”

“But, Bill,” Babe protests weakly, “Why would he be that ‘nice?’” The implication of Babe’s dubiousness over if it truly is niceties compelling Roe’s actions heavies Babe’s words. “I mean, he’s not that ‘nice’ to anyone else.”

“I don’t know, Babe,” Bill says, though he knows full well why. “Have you done anything nice for him?”

“Well there was that one time I bought him coffee, and I, uh, I told him his tie is nice, and…” Babe trails off. Bill watches with perhaps too much interest as Babe grows yet paler. He hadn’t thought it possible and, if Bill didn’t want the entire science department to drown in a Second Great Barbie Tsunami, he would have reported this preternatural phenomenon to them. Babe’s rambling thoughts, meanwhile, only allow him to get out a single: “Oh. My. God.”

Shoveling more ground beef into his mouth, Bill intones: “You’re spiraling again.”

Babe drops his forehead into his hands—both of them this time—and lets out a long groan. “Oh my god,” he repeats, “Do I have a crush on Roe? Does he have a crush on me?”

Eating the last of the taco salad, Bill confirms: “Definitely spiraling.”

#should I continue?#let a girl know #hbo war #band of brothers #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fic #bill guarnere #babe heffron #eugene roe #teachers au #/low Cajun voice/ Babe #Eugene Roe/Babe Heffron #Babe Heffron x Eugene Roe #my writing #baberoe

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rat-apologist · 6 years ago

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A Semi-In depth Review of Anna Todd’s After

So I’ve been seeing the trailer for the movie adaptation of this book every five seconds on my Instagram feed, and as a proud dyslexic unwilling to sit down and read it, I listened to the audiobook.

Again, these are all my opinions, if you don’t agree that’s okay.

Here is a quick, spoiler free plot synopsis for those who want/need it: Being moved from Wattpad into the real world of publishing, After follows a girl named Tessa, who simultaneously has the mentality of a five year old and an old man from the 1800’s. She is eighteen years old and is going to college to be an English major. Tessa loves control, planning, and books. She's an introvert at heart, and “not like other girls” (i.e. dresses conservatively, is a virgin (the books words, not mine)). She has a shitty mom and a nice, preppy, boyfriend who is still in high school, and her life is completely planned out. That’s all turned upside down when the poster child for emotional abuse named Harden (harry styles) waltzes into her life during a frat party her first week of college. Your typical Wattpad/teen movie drama ensues.

(the actual review under the cut)

This review is chock full of spoilers for Anna Todd’s book After. If you want a good idea of what I thought about this book without any spoilers I’ll just say this: I can really honestly say I was never bored while listening to this book. However, that is not necessarily a good thing. Often times I was just too much in awe of the clunky writing and truly evil supposedly “redeemable” characters to be bored. On a one to five star scale, I’d probably give it a two. More on that later.

Here are the things I liked:

(this one is only applicable to the audiobook) the narrator was amazing, her voice acting was very appropriate (though she did tend to drop accents sometimes- but that is forgiven because of how otherwise amazing her line delivery was- especially considering the quality of the dialogue).

Landon and Dakota were my favorite characters, and even though they had no personalities beyond what they meant to Tess and how they interacted with Harden (Hardin? Again, I listened to the audiobook I’ve got no idea how to spell that lmao) they still made the book better to listen to.

Despite the repetition of plot/narrative structures I can happily say again that I was never really bored.

Okay moving on to more mixed-bag feelings:

So the last chapter was from Harden’s perspective, and I thought that was an interesting idea. Learning what one character thinks, especially since our protagonist is, how you say, a little bad at reading/interacting with other human people. However the execution left something to be desired for me. It quite literally was just the exact same scene we just saw from the previous chapter, but from Hardens perspective instead of Tess’s. Which was just ended up being unnecessarily repetitive at times.

I liked how Tessa tried to be less judgmental throughout the book, however her growth is very, very limited.

I liked the fact that they mentioned they used condoms in pretty much every sex scene, and that most of the time clear verbal consent/clear nonverbal consent was given for the sexual stuff. That does not happen often in books, especially in fan fiction from what I understand.

I like that Tess does stand up for herself, while I could sometimes see myself comparing her to Bella Swan considering how much of her personality does kind of revolve around her relationship with Harden, she certainly was more vocal about her feelings. And boy, did she have a lot of feelings.

Moving on to the things I didn’t like, this is probably going to be a mix on writing, characters, and plot points so bear with me. (I’m saving my many thoughts on the twist for last)

Okay so a big number one is the biggest plot driver, the love story. So, I feel like it goes without saying, but the main relationship is SUPER unhealthy. Harden constantly stalks, manipulates, and bullies Tess throughout the whole book. He is pretty much abusive, using her caring for him to his own advantage and then dropping her when it suits him. Plus his hyper-sexualization of her “virtue” is really really nasty. Tess pretty much cries in every interaction they have together, and even acknowledges how toxic their relationship is, and yet I’m supposed to root for them? Hmm… I don’t think so

The near constant slut shaming and girl hate in this book bothers me, especially when it’s mixed with the hints of “I’m not like other girls” from Tess

The character descriptions kinda weird me out considering how much Harden is described like Harry Styles, like literally a tumblr punk edit of Harry Styles

The dialogue is… bad. To all the writers out there (myself included) make sure you read your dialogue out loud to see if it sounds natural, that way if your Wattpad fanfiction ever does get published, and your book is adapted into audiobook, you’ll avoid a situation like this one. Because, especially listening to it, the dialogue in this book is really really bad. Honest to god it sounds like robots imitating humans are talking to each other, only they’re trying to convince the other robots that they are humans. For some reason Anna Todd avoided using contractions for most of the book, making the characters sound unnatural and completely out of their predefined characters. Why would these college students not use words like “it’s” “we’ll” and “we’re”? It is truly astonishing, and it makes the few uses of contractions really distracting. Normally I don’t give a shit about grammar since I don’t really understand grammar, and normally grammatical errors aren’t that obvious when listening on audio, but the dialogue was seriously that bad.

The pacing was bad, that’s kinda all I have to say. It was generally too quick during plot development but then took a screeching halt for each fight/sex scene (of which there are many)

The repetition of certain words/phrases really got annoying. Everyone's always screaming, biting on their lip, or smirking. Harden is rude, as Tessa mentioned about eight million times, and Tessa finds his dirty talk arousing. We know this, because Todd uses those phrases about a billion times a chapter.

The sex scenes kind of grossed me out. I’m (in general) fine with sex, but the way the sex scenes were written seriously ucked me out. These college kids avoid using words like “penis” “dick” “pussy” etc. and use really really juvenile words like “down there” and “length”. Maybe this is a fanfiction thing, and I’ll admit that I have not read essentially any fanfiction, but it is truly a disturbing way to write sex. Especially since Tessa is written to have the experience and understanding of sex as like a child, not even understand what an orgasm is and unwilling to say words like penis or vagina, something our loverboy Harden is super attracted to, by the by.

I hate that this book uses “girl almost gets assaulted so man can come in and valiantly protect her” trope. It is super gross and I hate it. That’s kind of all I can say, the use of women's pain so that men can get some amount of redemption is awful.

More on Harden: I am sick of the “violent, broken man that I promise I can fix!” trope. It is used to justify and excuse abuse and I hate it. Tess is honestly scared of him several times in the book and it’s played as a personality quirk of his? Like everyone just accepts that’s how he is? I know for the most part we aren’t supposed to “like” him for the first part of the book, but it’s obvious that the author wants us to root for him and Tessa in some capacity. Especially with the inclusion of his perspective at the end, which in a way is exactly the kind of manipulation that he is into so idk. Also he is possessive despite the fact that they weren’t dating, and he is very clear he does not date. That’s already abuse, but of course there is more. On top of that he is cruel, and pretty stuck-up throughout the book- making him pretty much insufferable to me. And all of this shit just gets worse once the twist is introduced, and no amount of his whining from his chapter could at all change that.

The rest of the characters are all either boring, or the worst people you could ever meet. Tess’s mom, Molly, Jace, all really terrible to offset the horror of Harden. To almost justify what he does- because comparatively he doesn’t seem as bad (up until the twist).

The twist. Dear god the twist. So, as it goes it isn’t an extremely inspired twist. I’ve seen it done before in a similar way (I’m looking at you, Ten Things I Hate About You). For those who are wondering: the big twist is that Harden only really pursued Tess in the beginning because after she revealed she is a virgin at a party early on in the book he makes a pricey bet with Zed (another side character only used to add ~drama~ to Tessa and Harden’s relationship) to see who can take her virginity. All of the subsequent bullying, possessiveness, manipulation, etc. were all a ploy to have sex with her before Zed could. I feel like it goes without saying that that’s disgusting, but let me tell you exactly why: at least if he was actually interested in her at first his weird behavior could possibly be passed off as hormones (I wouldn’t like it, but I’d understand it more if you’d try to make that argument), but the fact that it was all for a bet not only makes his disgusting actions worse, but makes the fact that he supposedly falls in love with her so much more annoying. Plus, the fact that he literally tries to trap Tessa in a lease so she can’t leave him, and tries to bribe his friends into silence really shows how little he actually cares about Tessa and her thoughts and feelings.

So, why two stars? Honestly, because I was entertained (for lack of a better word) by this book. Maybe if I actually read it and not just listened to the audiobook it my rating would be lower, maybe if there was just one more sex scene to slow down the pace I would have been more bored. Who knows, but I was entertained. Sometimes by how terrible the dialogue is, by how astonishing the characters decisions were, sometimes by the actual plot. It’s like watching a shitty soap opera, it’s not good by any means, but it certainly keeps your attention.

#pj speaks #book review #after book #after book review

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ms-meredith-milton · 6 years ago

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in praise of my football player

At work right now, I’m overseeing a bunch of college interns and, of course, some are irritating and childish and, you know, nineteen and insufferable, but for the most part I really enjoy them.

So far this year, one in particular has stood out. My football player.

When he showed up and I saw him--he's good looking in that stereotypical football player way--and when I heard his deep, jock-sounding voice, I tried VERY HARD not to stereotype him and had to actively remind myself that he’s his own person not a caricature from central casting.

It’s been three months and he’s one of my favorite people at work right now.

It’s true, he’s not the brightest of our interns. But he’s one of the very best.

He takes direction well. I tell him to do something, he does it. No pushback, no “but actually, wouldn’t it make more sense to...?” If he doesn’t understand, he asks for clarification. Then he does it. No bullshit. It’s like I’m the coach and my orders are respected.

He always calls me by my title, unlike some of the dudes who think we’re on a first name basis because I look young and am female. He respects that I’m in charge. Again--I’m the coach.

He works well with others. (Again, I think this may be part of the athletics--he takes direction well and collaborates, like with teammates.) And he thanks people for their help. Consistently. Sincerely.

He’s kind. He asks other interns if they need a hand. When he turned in a project I’d given him, in the email in which he sent it to me he thanked another (female) intern who had helped him with it and acknowledged her assistance to me when submitting it.

And last week, I overheard him apologize to another intern for mansplaining something to her immediately after he’d jumped in to tell her something basic. She was so startled, she just started laughing and told him he was fine. But he apologized again, not letting himself off the hook, and then did a little parody of himself; then told her it was extra dumb he did that since she’s way better at this stuff than he is anyway. (His assessment is correct.)

He’s an English major. (This was very surprising to me. Stereotype says ‘business’ or ‘econ’.)

And knowing him as I now do--and seeing how he works with all the women around him--I am 100% confident that he’d be the big strong guy in the bar who’d come over to check on the girl being aggressively hit on... who’d cross his arms over his massive chest and ask if everything’s ok / there’s a problem here.

And it’s funny--when I was his age, I’m pretty sure I would have seen him as this dumb jock and totally overlooked all the great qualities that I now appreciate so deeply.

TL;DR working with an awesome football player has once again reminded me that stereotypes are toxic and that there can be real value in some of the skills athletes develop

#rl #work #stereotypes

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prettyallfriends · 3 years ago

Text

Pretty Rhythm: My☆Deco Rainbow Wedding Chapter 19+20 English Translation

Chapter 19: Final Battle! Platinum Spiral Cup

Penguin-sensei: ………

(flashback)

Rinne: ……

Mia: Ah! Rinne’s coord… changed again!

Rinne: What is this…?

Penguin-sensei: H… How is this possible!? That’s the Seventh Coord Star Dress! How on earth…!?

(end flashback)

Penguin-sensei: That coord… was certainly one of the legendary Seventh Dresses… but how…?? How can that coord exist in this world…??? ...Something strange is certainly going on. Since Rinne appeared, this world……… hmmmmmmm…

Mia: I have arrived!!!!

Penguin-sensei: AH! D-don’t scare me like that!! You insufferable fool!!!

Mia: I’ve been here for a while though! What have you been muttering to yourself about?

Penguin-sensei: You were listening…?

Mia: Not at all!! But it’s not the time for whatever you’re worrying about. The last SPiral CUp, the Platinum Spiral Cup, is today after all!!

Penguin-sensei: Your stupidity is truly a blessing~

Mia: Excuse me? Did you say something?

Penguin-sensei: Don’t mind that, continue what you were saying.

Mia: Yessir! Player has won the Bronze, Silver and Gold, and will soon be aiming for the Platinum Spiral Cup…

Karin: With galactic vigour!

Mia: Ah! Karin! Stop stealing my lines!

Ayami: Mia-san’s good point’s learning from others… (honestly this line stumped me lmao sorry)

Mia: I’ll take a memomemo!

Ayami: You may have stolen my catchphrase, but please don’t steal my actual memomemo!

Reina: God… Mia really is childish.

Mia: And you’re like a grumpy grandma like usual, Reina!

Reina: Excuse me!? Act your age before speaking to me!

Karin: Ugh~ Don’t fight, guys! We came to cheer for Player, after all.

Reina: Player! It’s finally the last Spiral Cup.

Ayami: If you win, you’ll get the Platinum Charm.

Karin: Collecting the entire Spiral Series would be galactically awesome!

Reina: Do everything you can to win!

Ayami: Though, the other participants are really skilled stars too, which is fitting for the Spiral Cup.

Reina: Does facing off against high-level prism stars make you nervous, Player?

Choice: Not at all. I’m looking forward to it! / Yeah, I’m a bit scared

Reina: Of course, being able to watch these amazing shows from so close will help you study your opponents. What a reliable student!

Karin: Yeah! Though, who are your rivals this time?

Serena: Nice to see, wait, you again-!?

Reina: That sounds like…!

Kanon: Serenon has also decided to enter the Platinum Spiral Cup!

Mia: Serenon… huh…

Serena: HEY!! Why do ya sound so disappointed!?

Reina: No, no! She’s not disappointed at all!

Serena: Seems we’re all seriously aiming for the Platinum Spiral Cup.

Kanon: Don’t let your guard down.

Reina: Serena-san and Kanon-san have such an amazing aura!

Ayami: Player-san won’t lose to them, though.

Karin: Pump up your galactically high fighting spirit!

Kanon: Hehe. I like people with a strong will to win.

Serena: It’d be nice if our third member could follow your example…

Kanon: Where’s she playing… Geez, she’s really…

Reina: Huh? Wait, is your third member-?

Karin: Ah! The tournament’s starting!

Kanon: I’ll give it my all to make my seniors proud. The stormcallers and manzai princesses…

Serena: Serenon will show you what we can achieve when we get serious! Bring it on, Player!!!!

(prism show)

Reina: Finally, they’re announcing the results!

Karin: No matter who wins, your show was seriously hot and passionate!

Kanon: We also gave it our all.

Serena: Gah… My heart’s pounding~!

Mia: The results are out! The winner is… Player~!!!!

Ayami: Bronze, Silver, Gold, and now Platinum… You’ve won all of the Spiral Cups!

Serena: Ugh! I can’t believe we lost!

Kanon: If you’re able to put on such an amazing show, Player, you’ll surely be able to get a good result in the Rainbow Cup too!

Serena: I can’t wait to see what kind of show you put on for the Rainbow Cup.

Karin: Oh! They’re giving you the frame for the Platinum Dress!

Ayami: Now you have all of the deco parts for the Spiral Series.

Reina: The Platinum Spiral Dress will make your shows shine even brighter.

Ayami: I want to see your levelled-up prism show soon!

??? (Kaname): I… wanna see it too!!!!

Serena: Huh? Wait, was that her!?

??? (Kaname): Ahahahahaha! Ahahahahahaha!!

Kaname: Kaname has arrived! Hehe~

Chapter 20: Crucial Kaname’s Perfect Jump!

Kaname: Ahahaha! I scared everyone! Funny~

Serena: Obviously you scared us, what the hell’re you doing, jumping out so suddenly!?

Kaname: So it was a big success~

Karin: You’re as galactically yourself as ever, huh Kaname?

Reina: This is Kurisu Kaname-san, she’s our senior at Pretty Top. She’s an amazing prism star who fought MARs at the Prism Queen Cup.

Kaname: My favourite food is banana~s! Do you like bananas, Player?

Choice: I love them! / I kind of dislike them

Kaname: I knew it! I’m so happy we’re alike~

Serena: What’ve you been up to ‘til now, Kaname!?

Kaname: Ummm~ Reading manga, watching anime…

Serena: I see, I see.

Kaname: And I ate sweets!

Serena: Dumbass!!! You were just messing around the whole time!

Kaname: You could say it like that, yeah~! Ahahahaha!

Rizumu: Hey, hey, Kaname!

Kaname: Oh, Rizumu’s here? Hi Rizumu~!

Rizumu: Sorry I didn’t come over sooner! You looked like you were enjoying yourself watching that last show.

Kaname: Player’s show made my heart pound! Because it made my heart smile! Play with Kaname, player!

Serena: Player has lessons to prepare for the Rainbow Cup!

Kaname: Huuuh? Boring…

Serena: Don’t be so selfish!

Rizumu: Hey, Serena. Would it really be so bad to let Kaname and Player play for a while?

Serena: Even you want to let Kaname do what she wants!?

Rizumu: Player could really learn from Kaname, especially about her jumps.

Kanon: You have a point… Kaname’s power of the perfect jump is our trump card.

Kaname: Really!? Does that mean I can play with Player!?

Rizumu: Yup. As long as you give them a lesson on perfect jumps.

Kaname: Yaaay! You’re so nice, Rizumu! As expected of the best big sister ever!

Serena: I guess it couldn’t hurt...

Rizumu: There, there, isn’t this great.

Kaname: Hehehe. Play with me by doing a prism show. It’ll be easy, and if you can perform a perfect jump, you win! Timing is very important for a perfect jump! The moment the heart lights up is the perfect time to jump! Now let’s hurry so I can see your perfect jump~! To Prism Stone Shop~!

Kaname: Do a perfect jump with your sparkly heart!

(prism show)

Wooow, amazing! Your perfect jump… was a major success~! Looks like you win!

Rizumu: Nice jump, Player! Have you got the timing for a perfect jump down? The moment that your hearts connect is the most important part of a perfect jump. Make sure to do lots of shows so you can learn the right timing.

Reina: Player’s show was really good, but Kaname’s jumps were on another level.

Rizumu: Did you have fun, Kaname?

Kaname: Yep! Let’s play together again sometime, Player!

Serena: Kaname, I know you have natural talent, so you don’t have to practise as much… But still…

Kaname: I’ll practise once I’m done reading this manga!

Serena: Ugh--! W-well, it’s good to have hobbies too, I guess…

Rizumu: Now that we’re done with the perfect jump lesson, all we can really do is wait for the Rainbow Cup.

Kaname: I’ll come to cheer for you!

Reina: We’re all coming to cheer for you, so do your best, Player!

Penguin-sensei: It’s an emergency!

Mia: Penguin-sensei! Don’t run in the corridors!

Penguin-sensei: Ah, apologies. It was not very ladylike for me to-... hey! Every time we speak you turn me into your straight man!

Mia: Oof!

Reina: What’s wrong? Did something happen?

Penguin-sensei: A notice for the Rainbow Cup arrived!

Ayami: Then hurry up and show us!

Reina: Player will obviously be entering, right?

Penguin-sensei: Now, you see… There are certain conditions you must meet to perform.

Reina: Conditions? Such as…?

Penguin-sensei: The conditions…

Reina: Uhuh…

Penguin-sensei: ...will be shared with you at a later date!

Reina: Just hurry up and tell us!!

#pretty rhythm #pretty rhythm aurora dream #pretty rhythm dear my future #pretty rhythm 3ds #mdrw

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lifeflowingon · 4 years ago

Text

| QUICKSILVER | 2 |

• SUMMARY: After a student is gruesomely murdered on campus, Baek Haeju finds herself trying to extract information from the only person who might know the truth. But is secretive English major Min Yoongi just a witness? Or is he the culprit?

• WARNINGS: Death, murders, sex.

• WORDS: 3376.

"I don't like these tiny portions with your artful abortions of sound, sealed with a kiss, slathered in the sauce sarcastic. So go choke on your irony."

The Futile | Say Anything

To become friends with someone, it requires spending time with said person. You have to share secrets, joys, tragedies. Be there for each other no matter what. Haeju knows this.

But Min Yoongi has vanished without a trace, and Haeju can't be friends with a ghost.

He hasn't shown up for the past two World Lit sessions, and Haeju wonders if he's all right. Jungkook seems agitated, because no one seems to know a thing about the whereabouts of the mysterious boy. Haeju suggested that maybe Yoongi is keeping a low profile because of what happened with Yon.

Either way, Haeju is glad she doesn't have to be Yoongi's friend, at least for now. The empty seat beside her, however, is haunting her. She doesn't pay attention to Miss Dawes, who keeps talking about the "partner project" and the significance of it. Haeju looks away from Yoongi's empty desk and tries to focus on the teacher droning in front of her.

"I'll assign you a topic," says Miss Dawes. "Once you pick your partner, come up to my desk and I'll tell you what it is. Come on, guys, this isn't high school. Pick somebody and get it over with."

The guy sitting behind Haeju pokes her gently, and Haeju turns around. He is running his fingers through his curly hair, and haphazardly rearranges his lopsided glasses. "Do you have a partner?" he asks shyly. "I'm Wesley."

"Haeju," she says, smiling. "And I, um..." She glances around and decides to lie. "Yeah, I do. He's not here today, but he promised we would be partners."

"Oh, you mean... Min Yoongi" asks Wesley through narrowed eyes. "I didn't know you guys were friends."

"Oh, yeah, totally," says Haeju, but Wesley looks skeptical.

"Huh, he's a weird one," says Wesley, clearing his throat. "You don't seem like the kind of girl he would hang out with. How is he? Is he hiding after what happened with my best friend, Yon?"

"I..." Haeju is a loss for words, but Wesley turns around and ignores Haeju, making conversation with another student. Haeju feels stupid just sitting there, so she stands up and walks over to Miss Dawes' desk.

"I'm here to get my topic," mumbles Haeju.

"Who's your partner?" asks Miss Dawes, not looking up.

"Um..." Haeju takes a deep breath, slightly hating Jungkook. "Min Yoongi. He's not here today but"

Miss Dawes looks up and frowns at Haeju, but merely shrugs as he goes back to her notes and writes down something. Haeju stands there awkwardly, waiting for Miss Dawes to say something.

"Your topic is rain," says Miss Dawes in a mysterious tone. "I need you and Mr. Min to write an essay about rain."

"Sorry?" blurts Haeju.

"How rain affects... oh, I don't know, your behavior, life, nature!" says Miss Dawes happily. "Read essays about rain by other writers! The secrets behind every single drop! You two will need to figure out which angle you want to take!"

Haeju raises an eyebrow and stares at Miss Dawes in confusion. What on Earth is this woman talking about? But she just mumbles a "thanks" and goes back to her seat. She has a partner, she has a topic, she has almost everything.

Except Yoongi's friendship.

xxxx

"Aw, cheer up. What's wrong? You've been so subdued lately," says Chaerin worriedly as they take a seat at one of the dining hall tables.

"You've noticed? Hard to tell when you're spending all of your free time with Chaeku," says Haeju bitterly.

"I'm trying to save my relationship with that man," protests Chaerin. "He was so distant during break. 'Oh, Chaerin, I have to do this, do that.' I'm losing him!"

Haeju snorts, all too familiar with Chaerin's love for melodrama. Haeju's only met Chaeku a couple times, and she dislikes him intensely. She has no idea why her best friend is dating a guy like that.

"Maybe you should lose him," mutters Haeju, and Chaerin gives her a surprised look.

"Okay, killjoy, what's going on?" says Chaerin, putting her salad aside. "Is it Jungkook again? Did he get a new girlfriend?"

"No!" says Haeju quickly. She promised Jungkook she would tell no one about their "secret" mission, not even Chaerin. "Um... let's change the subject. Chaeku! Yeah, let's talk about Chaeku."

Chaerin doesn't seem too convinced but she soon starts ranting about Chaeku and his behavior, Chaeku and his brother, Chaeku and his brother's friend, that insufferable Lee Yoongi".

You know Min yoongi?" squeaks Haeju. "You've never mentioned him before!"

"Well, with our work shifts and school schedules, we rarely have time to talk," chuckles Chaerin. "So sad. But yeah, I know him. Why?"

"Just... um, he's my partner in my World Lit class," blushes Haeju. "And I have no idea where he is. I mean, we need to talk about our project and stuff... so... Chaeku's brother is friends with him?"

What a small world.

"Yeah, Hoseok actually shares a dorm room with Yoongi," says Chaerin nonchalantly. "They're both living in Ross Hall, you know, the artsy hall. Do you want me to talk to him or...?"

Haeju shakes her head and pulls out her phone, texting Jungkook frantically. She tells him that Yoongi's location had been in front of her all along, and that Jungkook owes her, big time.

"Do you know what's their room number?" asks Haeju, waiting for Jungkook's response.

"I could ask Chaeku... hold on," says Chaerin, reaching for her phone. Haeju's phone starts buzzing, and she can't help but smile at Jungkook's text.

You're amazing, Haeju darling. We must celebrate tonight after you talk to him. Looking forward to spend time with you. Just let me know.

Haeju is beaming, and Chaerin tells her something, but all she can hear is bliss. She is feeling like a silly love song.

xxxx

She walks down the hallway, holding her breath. People are giving her weird stares, as if they know she doesn't belong here. Haeju tries to breathe, but she feels like something is burning and blacking her lungs, and she looks at the piece of paper with the information Chaerin gave her. She still can't believe she agreed to help Jungkook with this, she doesn't want to be involved in this at all. She feels like a pawn, but Jungkook is her best friend after all, and perhaps her future husband, so...

She finally finds the door and knocks nervously as other students walk past her, looking at her curiously. She can hear them muttering, wondering what the preppy , innocent, bookloving Baek Haeju is doing in their building. Ross Hall is known for holding the most intellectuallynpretentious

students on campus, and it's been nicknamed Hipster Hall, much to Haeju's amusement.

Haeju knocks again, the bile rising in her throat, and she can hear the door unlocking.

Haeju steps back as the door opens and there he is, dark circles under his bright eyes, dressed in black, many rings decorating his fingers. He looks intimidating, and it seems that he hasn't shaved in days. Everything about him screams secrecy and contempt, and he is studying her carefully, making Haeju shiver. Her eyes focus on his lips, the way they're twitching into a smirk, and she knows that this isn't going to be easy.

What did I get myself into? she thinks. I'm just a student, I don't want to be involved in this at all, I don't, I don't"

Um... Min Yoongi?" She mumbles.

"Yeah," he says dryly. "Who are you?"

He doesn't remember being an idiot to her? Haeju's not surprised.

"Baek Haeju, er, I'm in your World Lit class?" offers Haeju clumsily.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at her and Haeju wonders if he is able to see through her. He probably knows that she's here to spy on him, that every word that escapes his lips will be relayed to Jungkook, that this stupid mystery will somehow be solved with Haeju's amazing, incredible, nonexistent detective like skills. The only experience she has with investigating a murder is reading mystery novels or watching crime TV shows.

No, she's not good at this at all.

"What do you want?" asks Yoongi, irritation in his voice.

Haeju breathes deeply, faking a smile. Let the acting begin.

"Well, um, you haven't been in class?" says Haeju, stumbling on her words.

"So?" drawls Yoongi.

"We're... partners," explains Haeju timidly. "I just wanted to let you know that you're my partner."

"Why?" asks Yoongi, and he sounds impatient. "I wasn't there. Did she pick partners at random?"

"Yeah, that's what she did," lies Haeju.

"How did you find me?" snaps Yoongi, and Haeju wants to walk out of there.

"I, er"

"Come in," says Yoongi, looking exasperated, and he walks away, leaving the door wide open. Haeju stands there for a minute before following him, making a mental note of punching Jungkook later.

The somewhat spacious room is a mess, fitting for two young men. There are posters all over the walls, and discarded shirts decorate the barely visible floor. Yoongi sits on his bed and grabs the book he was apparently reading before Haeju interrupted, and says nothing as his eyes glue to the novel.

"Um..." Haeju doesn't know what to say. "I, um, just asked around for you."

"I don't like people asking for me," says Yoongi, flipping a page. "If I wanted to be found, I would just walk around campus, waving like a pageant winner."

"I'm sorry," mumbles Haeju, and Yoongi looks up from his book.

"For what?" he asks, and his voice sounds softer.

"Bothering you," shrugs Haeju. "I just really want to get a good grade and I got worried when you didn't show up."

"Well... I was considering dropping that class anyway," huffs Yoongi. "I won't, my parents would kill me, but whatever. And you can sit down on Hoseok's bed, he won't mind."

Haeju walks over to the bed and sits cautiously, cringing as she feels something poke her butt. "An action figure?" she snorts, grabbing the tiny toy in disbelief.

"Don't judge," mocks Yoongi. "Fuck, so... here's the thing. We're partners, not friends. We'll just figure out our schedules and meet at the library and whatnot. I have no time for chitchat and gettoknowyouexercises."

"I didn't-" starts Haeju, enraged at Yoongi's rant.

"And if I see your boyfriend sniffing around," says Yoongi darkly. "I will go to Miss Dawes and tell her to assign me another partner."

"Boyfriend?" asks Haeju.

"Don't play stupid with me," says Yoongi, and he's not looking at her anymore. "Jeon Jungkook, managing editor of the campus newspaper. Everybody's favorite plaid wearing, sports loving jock."

Yoongi sounds definitely resentful, and Haeju is feeling more and more puzzled.

"He tried to interview me last semester," says Yoongi finally. "Tell him he's not getting his interview through you. I'm not an idiot, you know."

What? Jungkook never mentioned trying to interview Yoongi last semester. Haeju feels used, and she stands up.

"He never mentioned that to me... and Jungkook is not my boyfriend," says Haeju, trying to sound calm.

"Whatever he is," says Yoongi dismissively. "You have been warned."

"And how do you know about me and Jungkook being friends, anyway?" asks Haeju, realizing something. "You acted like you had never seen me before just a few minutes ago."

Yoongi doesn't respond, and for the first time ever, he looks nervous. He bites his lower lip, the sight extremely alluring, but Haeju isn't here for that, no. She shouldn't find this arrogant boy so attractive, not when she's hating his guts. Not when she is completely and madly in love with Jungkook, the most perfect man on Earth.

"My memory comes and goes, just like my body and soul," says Yoongi snobbishly. "Think of me as the Billy Pilgrim of modern times. You do know who Billy Pilgrim is, right? Unless you're not familiar with Vonnegut, which would be a shame..."

"You're so... ugh!" exclaims Haeju, frustration taking control of her. "What have I done to you? I just... I... ugh!"

"Ugh?" sneers Yoongi, looking like he's enjoying the scene. "Your word knowledge is Earth shattering! What a stunning display of verbal acuity!"

Haeju opens her mouth to retort but she freezes, her mind processing Yoongi's words. "What did you say?" she gasps.

Stunning display of verbal acuity. Acuity. Acuity. Maybe she's just reading too much into this, maybe the envelope on Jungkook's desk has made her paranoid.

"Verbal acuity, Baek," says Yoongi, sounding bored. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to continue reading. We're about to find out who shot the model in the face."

Haeju notices that Yoongi is reading Invisible Monsters by Palahniuk, a novel that Haeju adores, but she doesn't say anything. She's too furious at him.

"You better attend the next lecture," says Haeju angrily, turning on her feet and reaching for the door. "See you around."

Haeju opens the door angrily, her rage not letting her breathe properly. And before she closes the door, Yoongi's sardonic voice reaches her ears.

"Guess you will."

xxxx

Haeju is glad she doesn't work at the bookstore today, she is getting a migraine. She sits on the couch, staring blankly at the TV and thinking of the day's events. One thing is for sure, Yoongi is a complete and absolute jerk.

No wonder people avoid him, no wonder Chaerin made snide remarks about him. He's the most unpleasant guy Haeju has ever met, and she can't believe she's supposed to become friends with him. No way, no how, not happening. And she needs to say this to Jungkook.

Someone knocks on the door and Haeju stands up slowly, still thinking terrible thoughts about Yoongi and his cold words, his indifference, his gorgeous eyes...

Stop it, thinks Haeju stubbornly. You are NOT attracted to him. He's a jerk!

She opens the door and all thoughts of Yoongi disappear when Jungkook smiles at her, and he's holding a box of pizza in his hands.

"Brought food, my lady," he winks, and Haeju smiles stupidly.

They settle in front of the TV after Haeju gets some sodas from the fridge, and they eat in silence for a minute. "So, what happened?" asks Jungkook, swallowing his bite.

"He's so... strange," says Haeju. She doesn't want to act like a hormonal teenager in front of Jungkook. "Very elusive and reserved... kind of."

"Really? Huh," muses Jungkook, reaching for another slice.

"You must know," says Haeju, suddenly remembering her brief conversation with Yoongi. "You did try to interview him last semester after all."

Jungkook starts choking on his slice, and Haeju crosses her arms, waiting for an explanation. Jungkook is red in the face and he's avoiding Haeju's eyes, his expression full of guilt.

"Oh, yeah, about that... um..." Jungkook coughs, and Haeju punches him in the arm. "Okay, ouch, sorry! I guess I owe you an explanation."

"You sure do," says Haeju crossly.

"Um, well..." Jungkook puts down his slice and wipes his fingers with a napkin as he takes a deep breath. "See, the last text sent from Yanmi's phone the night she died, um, funnily enough... it was sent to Yoongi."

"Excuse me?" breathes Haeju.

"He kind of was a person of interest in Yanmi's murder," says Jungkook quickly. "Oh, hey, should we rent a movie or something?"

"What?" bellows Haeju, standing on her feet. "A person of interest? Why didn't you tell me this? Jungkook, what were you thinking?"

"My source in the police department wanted me to keep quiet about it!" says Jungkook defensively. "But Yoongi didn't do it, he had an alibi! But my source said that he definitely knew something about the murder but he was very reserved about the whole thing. They had nothing against him so they had to dismiss him and"

"You lied to me!" snaps Haeju.

"No, I..." Jungkook grins sheepishly. "I just hid some facts from you."

"You suck, Jungkook!" says Haeju, turning away from him, her ears burning. She hears when Jungkook stands up, and she shivers when he places a hand on her shoulder.

"Haeju, look at me." Haeju waits for a couple minutes before turning to face Jungkook. "Haeju... I know he won't hurt you. I know some things about him, and I know he won't. But I need you to get close to him so the whole Yanmi thing can get solved."

"This is not your job," sighs Haeju. Jungkook's hand reaches for hers, and the warmth of the action makes Haeju blush.

"I need this article, darling," he says, using the voice he always uses to charm girls. He has never used it on Haeju, and this sort of shocks her. "Dad is still seething about my major, and I need this to prove that I can do this. I need you, Haeju."

"He doesn't trust me," says Haeju in defeat. "Because I'm friends with you. He implied it." Jungkook seems thoughtful for a moment, and then grins at Haeju.

"We'll have a fight," says Jungkook. "A public, nasty fight. A fight so bad that it will make me look like a jerk and people will think that you will never talk to me again. Preferably in front of Yoongi."

"But surely people will notice we still talk to each other if we hang out," says Haeju, her heart dropping at Jungkook's eagerness to be apart, if only for show.

"We won't hang out in public, that's all," chuckles Jungkook. "But we can hang out here at your apartment, my dorm is a nono.

It'll be fun, Haeju. Just you and me, hanging out, watching movies... it will be perfect."

Haeju can't deny that it sounds pretty darn fantastic. She sighs, pretending to consider Jungkook's idea, and then she gives him a sad look.

"Jungkook, what are we getting into?" she says quietly, and Jungkook's arms wrap around her, pulling Haeju close to him.

"Just... trust me and get to know him," says Jungkook into her ear. "I will owe you so much. And I'll make sure you're protected in all of this. I don't want you to get hurt, okay? Because I... Well, you know I love you more than anything."

"Whwhat?" asks Haeju, suddenly realizing that Jungkook's face is too close to hers.

"I..." mumbles Jungkook, leaning in. "Um... I..."

The door opens and Chaerin walks in, supported by an annoyed looking boy who is wearing a beanie. Chaerin is obviously drunk, and her makeup is a mess, and her speech is slurred.

Haeju blinks, and she realizes that Jungkook has let go of her, his cheeks very red.

"What happened?" asks Haeju, trying to swallow her disappointment.

"Chaeku broke up with me!" cries Chaerin, pulling at the boy's collar. "I got drunk and mad, and more drunk and mad! Hoseok had to bring me, but I don't need any of you Jung boys looking after me, you pricks, you cheating"

"Can you grab her?" groans Hoseok, and Jungkook and Haeju quickly retrieve Chaerin from Hoseok's arms.

"Your brother is a cheating manwhore!" bellows Chaerin. "Tell him I hope that fucking dance major gives him STIs!"

"Will relay the message," says Hoseok sarcastically, taking off his beanie and bowing in a mocking way. Haeju notices something resembling a silver circle tattooed on the back of Hoseok's neck, but the boy quickly stands up straight, putting his hat back on. "I've done my job."

Hoseok closes the door after him and Chaerin holds on to Haeju, sobbing in despair. "He's seeing someone else," gasps Chaerin, and Haeju hugs her tightly.

"I have to go, but... yeah, we'll do what we talked about, okay?" says Jungkook uneasily, not looking at Haeju in the eye.

"Okay," says Haeju neutrally. Jungkook gives them a last look and leaves, and Chaerin starts crying harder. Haeju runs a hand through Chaerin's hair, trying to calm her down, but she feels like a

hypocrite and a fake.

She wants to break down and cry too.

| masterlist |

#bts #bts au #au #english #min yoongi

0 notes

thesinglesjukebox · 7 years ago

Video

youtube

PARAMORE - FAKE HAPPY [6.33] And its corresponding feeling, the fake likey...

Alfred Soto: Paramore know about fake happy. Their best songs scoff any notion of the romantic hangover, sneer at matching form and content. The slight hysteria in the chorus ("ohhhh PLEASE"), however, complements the plastic skank and programmed sounds. Whether these bits are enough to disinter a moribund record we'll find out soon enough; at best it may remind listeners that Paramore's songwriting continues to deepen. [7]

Will Adams: It's easy to be drawn in by the fuzzed-out intro and subsequent synth bursts, but "fake happy" as a concept is too on-the-nose. Like the frowny emojis superimposed on everyone's faces in the video, it's telling instead of showing. [5]

Ashley John: I read The Catcher in the Rye on my own a year before it was assigned reading, and I remember thanking Salinger for putting into words the teenage isolation that plagued me. A year later when we dissected it in my junior English class, my teacher stunned 17-year old me by saying that Holden Caulfield is actually insufferable. "Fake Happy" gives me remnants of that feeling, though I think Hayley Williams' storytelling is sturdier against the wear of time. At one angle "Fake Happy" is petulant and tired, but Williams gives the tale of repressed emotions a new slant. Unlike Holden, she's resigned to playing the part, wearing the mask, bearing her teeth, because she knows that we all are doing the same. [7]

Ryo Miyauchi: "Fake happy" is a rather makeshift phrase to describe this condition, though this is one of those times where language fails to provide an exact word. Hayley Williams's voice isn't precise either, better suited to carry emotional rawness than anything poetic. But the rough materials are exactly what's needed for this song, where no wise metaphor can provide the relief or impact of just shouting out the matter. [9]

Edward Okulicz: It's interesting how "Fake Happy" gets so much into four minutes, from the acoustic intro to the ba-da-da middle section (cut from the same cloth as "Ain't It Fun"). But this otherwise impeccable-sounding track is damaged by cookie-cutter lyrics ("mascara tears," really?) and a chorus that doesn't catch fire no matter how much gas Hayley Wiliams pours on it. [6]

Stephen Eisermann: The verses and pre-chorus are cool, and the song offers an interesting premise, but that chorus, man -- talk about a song killer. I can't even hear a melody in it. If they had just toned down the guitar, turned down the volume, and reminded Hayley that you don't have to yell in every song, this could've been way better. [4]

Katherine St Asaph: Discovery: Acoustic Hayley Williams sounds startlingly like Christine Fellows, though I'm sure I'm just falling for fake plaintive that lasts 30 seconds. The lyric has been done better by virtually everyone, and the comparisons that strike me aren't nearly as welcome (the melodies are Shontelle's "Impossible," the chorus is some slab of Southern-rock steak, the bridge is the same ironic-jingle cliche that diluted St. Vincent's "Pills") but that's not as much of a problem as the colorless neon '80s perking fustily all over everything. I think this makes me a rockist now? [4]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: The acoustic intro is a mistake, drawing attention to the seriousness of the song while spoiling the impact of the chorus's final line. Even then, "Fake Happy" is exceedingly drab, its dull synthesizers and self-referential "bada-bada-ba-ba" bridge being the biggest culprits. But this is a song for Hayley, and the chorus is an opportunity for catharsis. I don't think I fully understood it until I tried it myself, drowning everything around me out (including the instrumentation). [6]

Joshua Copperman: This song is a masterclass in less-is-more; the entire verse and pre-chorus hang on Cmaj7, building suspense until it finally resolves on G major in the chorus. Even the intensely glossy production can't stop the entrance -- "OH PLEASE!" -- from hitting with maximum impact. As wonderful as Hayley's performance and lyrics are, Zac Farro's drumming carries "Fake Happy," like a friend insisting you go out and stop with all your "it's not real" crap. Hayley's lyrics are not Wallflower-y in the slightest, though, because the "everyone" includes herself, trying to exist when all signs point to existence not being that great. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

#Paramore #Fake Happy

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welllpthisishappening · 8 years ago

Text

Out of the Frying Pan (24/?)

“I’m serious.”

“What can I do for you David? It probably wasn’t easy to get out here, so I assume there’s some sort of major point you wanted to make.” David narrowed his eyes pointedly, shifting the belt around his uniform pants and Killian tried not to roll his eyes when he adjusted his holster. “I wanted to apologize.” Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“For what?”

AN: You guys wanted a return to angst and this isn’t...a complete return, but it’s getting there. With more pie! Christmas themed! Happy Christmas in July. Several dozen metaphorical Christmas presents to @laurnorder who just fixes all of this constantly and to @distant-rose who made the INCREDIBLE aesthetic to go along with the story. There’s pecan pie up there!

Living it up on Ao3 and tag’ed up on Tumblr.

It was still freezing in the warehouse.

Almost restaurant.

Starting to actually look like a restaurant.

He should start referring to it as a restaurant. And it was still freezing inside.

“Marco,” Killian called towards the contractor, currently occupied with something construction-related on the other side of the very large soon-to-be dining room. “Are we eventually going to install heat in this building?” “Eventually,” Marco said, not lifting his head away from whatever he was hammering. Or building.

“See,” Robin added, glancing up from his seat next to Killian. “Eventually we’ll be able to feel all of our extremities in this building. This absolutely enormous building. God, your heating bills are going to be extravagant.” “You were the one who suggested this building,” Killian sighed, stretching his legs out slightly and nearly tripping up one of Marco’s workers in the process. “In fact, you were also the one who suggested we come out here two days before Christmas to see the current construction updates to this building. I’m sure we’re in Marco’s way.”

The contractor put the hammer down – it was definitely a hammer – glancing over his shoulder incredulously at the pair of them. Killian had to admit they painted quite a picture between the two of them. Robin had knocked on his door that morning – two tiny packages balanced on his hip that turned out to be folded up lawn chairs he’d somehow bought in the twelve hours since he’d left The Jolly Roger the night before – and informed him that there was a car downstairs waiting to take them to Gowanus where they would sit for several hours and watch the construction updates on the building he was spending an exorbitant amount of money for.

And also Robert Gold wanted to see them.

Or him.

Robert Gold wanted to see Killian.

Robin was mostly there for emotional support – and he’d brought coffee. In addition to the lawn chairs. Killian appreciated all three things.

“You’re not in my way,” Marco said, walking across the room and staring at the two of them with something that almost looked like amusement on his face. “At least not yet. I’ll let you know if that changes.” “You’re a pillar of patience, Marco,” Robin said, pouring more coffee out of the thermos he’d brought with them. He was very prepared. Killian shuddered to think of what the man would be like on a camping trip.

Probably insufferable.

“And Robert Gold appears to be a pillar of late,” Killian muttered, not even trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. He was cold. And tired. And he hadn’t seen Emma in two days – filming another episode of The Kitchen and worrying about her time slot and dealing with seemingly never-ending meetings with Ruby and Zelena and some other network boss he’d never actually met.

Henry had loved the pie. That was the week before. He’d eaten three slices and was gunning for a fourth when Emma had pulled his hand away, muttering something about sugar intake and too many calories for a twelve-year-old and Henry had shot him a conspiratorial smile like he should try and sneak him pie behind his mother’s back.

He hadn’t.

Killian was, at least, that responsible.

He’d also sent them home with a full pie.

Because he wasn’t a dessert savage.

“Drink some more coffee,” Robin muttered, pushing the thermos into Killian’s arm with all the tact of someone who’d known him far too long and could probably read his mind at this point. “And go see Emma later tonight because you’re frustrating when you’re frustrated.” “That doesn’t make any sense.” “Drink some coffee, think about how the English language works and then talk to me.” “Ass,” Killian said, drawing a laugh out of Marco as he tugged the thermos out of Robin’s hand. “And Gold didn’t give you a timetable at all? Or any update on what he wanted to talk about? Or why he contacted you and not me? The man signing his checks?” “That was a lot of questions. Wasn’t that a lot of questions, Marco?” “Leave Marco out of this, we’ve already bothered him enough. I’m sure you’ve to something to build, right? Like tables or something?” “We order the tables,” Marco said. “They’re coming in a couple of weeks.” “We ordered tables? How much did that cost?” “Killian,” Robin sighed, sitting up straighter in the recently bought lawn chairs and drawing a line in the still-dirty floor with the heel of his shoe. “We’re not worrying about the cost of these things. You win the all-star stuff and the costs won’t matter.”

Killian’s eyes fell to the floor, shoulders slumping a bit in the chair that couldn’t really support his weight and tried to focus on the cup of coffee steaming in his hand. At least that was warm. Everything else felt cold.

Because as soon as Killian had gotten in the car that morning he’d decided – or maybe he’d decided as soon as he’d handed Henry that pie and Emma had smiled at him and it felt like the only thing that had ever mattered.

He wasn’t going to win.

He was going to tell Gold. He was going to break the deal and probably rob a bank or find some priceless art to steal or have to cook until his other hand fell off, but he was going to pay off the restaurant and he was going to do it right.

He wasn’t going to beat Emma.

Not like this. Not when she was so close to getting her show back. Not when she trusted him.

Robin eyed him suspiciously, crossing his arms slowly and tilting his head with the slightest movement. It sounded a bit deafening. Even in that very loud, very unfinished construction zone.

“I think I’ve got something to build,” Marco said softly, eyebrows pulled low and a slightly nervous tick on the side of his jaw. And then he all but sprinted towards the kitchen-area. Or where the kitchen was slated to be.

Eventually.

Maybe once they had installed some heat.

“Now he’s got things to build,” Killian mumbled, eyeing the traitorous contractor as he disappeared behind the kitchen door. There was a door now.

That seemed like a step in the right direction.

“What are you doing?” Robin asked sharply, a look on his face that almost perfectly mirrored Roland when he was told he couldn’t go back in the kitchen or eat cheeseburgers for four straight nights.

“Drinking lukewarm coffee and waiting for some guy I don’t really know to show up at my restaurant?” “Are we calling it a restaurant now? You used warehouse this morning.” “I think you’re deviating from your point.”

Robin sighed dramatically and Killian resisted the urge to vocalize the similarities between his friend and the seven-year-old who, just the night before, had pitched a small fit over the lack of his pecan pie, unaware that he was just as allergic to pecans as ever.

“I am,” he admitted.

“Well, then go ahead and make it before the coffee gets ice cold.” “You’re giving up, aren’t you?” Killian narrowed his eyes, lifting up his chair and twisting to stare at Robin. “Giving up?” “On the all-star thing. You’re giving up. I mean you’ll cook and if you win, you win, but you’re not actively trying to win anymore, are you?” “Maybe,” Killian said evasively and Robin sighed again.

“You’re an awful liar.”

“I’m a fantastic liar.” “Is that what you’re doing now?” Robin said, voice dripping with accusation and a knowing stare that made Killian want to push him and his tiny, foldable lawn chair over. “Lying to me about what you’re doing?” “I’m not.” “Then, that’s what’s going on? You’re giving up.” “That last one didn’t seem like a question.” “It wasn’t.” Killian groaned, pulling his body out of the chair and starting to pace, just a few inches away from Robin’s feet. “I really think you should tell her. For whatever that’s worth.”

“Tell who what?” “You’re an idiot.” Killian grinned, rocking back on his feet and running his hand through his hair and he was definitely enjoying this more than he should. He hadn’t wanted to come to Gowanus in the first place. If he was going to be forced to do this – and have this conversation with Robert Gold face to face instead of over the phone like he’d planned – then he was going to banter with Robin and he was going to enjoy it.

“I’m making no claims otherwise,” Killian said and Robin rolled his eyes.

A gust of wind swept into the warehouse or almost restaurant and that seemed like some sort of sign because Killian felt like a chill rush down his spine when he turned to find Robert Gold standing in the would-eventually-be-a-door doorway, leaning on that absurd cane with a small smile on his face.

“Mr. Jones,” he said, eyeing Killian with an unwavering stare that didn’t do anything to assuage the chill lingering in his lower back.

“We should really focus on putting some heat in this place,” Robin muttered, drawing a shaky laugh from Killian as Gold walked into the warehouse. His cane, somehow, echoed across the room. “Or maybe we should have brought a space heater.” “The coffee should have lasted longer,” Killian shrugged.

“Probably.” “Gentleman,” Gold cut in, stopping next to Killian and it didn’t look like he had blinked once on his walk across the room. “Thank you for meeting me here today.”

“What exactly is this about?” Killian asked. Robin scoffed quietly behind him and he could hear the sound of his foot in the dust and dirt and, possibly, a bit of loose floor as well.

“I wanted to congratulate you on your win.” “That was weeks ago.” Robin muttered a few nonsense syllables and Killian glanced wide-eyed and just as frustrated as ever at his friend. “And we’ve talked about that whole ‘Mr. Jones’ thing. Killian is fine.” Gold nodded slowly, staring at him with a look in his eyes that made Killian feel like he was being surveyed somehow. “I wanted to congratulate you on your win,” he repeated, both hands lightly resting on the top of his cane. “And to add that that kind of performance is exactly what we expect from you going forward.”

Killian’s eyes darted towards Robin – now sitting up stick-straight in his recently-bought lawn chair and eyeing Gold with his own brand of very pointed interest. “Excuse me?” Killian asked.

Gold cocked one eyebrow at him, the side of his mouth tugging up into a smile that didn’t look remotely encouraging. Or complimentary. “We expect another win next month. In whatever competition is next. And you’ve agreed to that.” “No, we didn’t,” Robin cut in, standing up and walking a few steps to move next to Killian. His shoulder almost brushed against his and that seemed a bit too on the nose for the situation – Killian bit the inside of his lip.

Gold widened his eyes slightly, looking at Robin as if he only just realized he was there. “We didn’t agree to that in anything that’s legally binding,” Robin continued. “You and Killian made a deal, sure, but it was just words. The only contract that exists here is the one that includes us buying this building from you and working with Marco. The rest was just between us. None of that was written down.” And, not for the first time, Killian was thankful Robin Locksley had worked his way into his life. Even if it meant being forced out to Gowanus against his will early in the morning and a seemingly endless stream of comments on his love life and requests for character references.

“What exactly is it you’re saying Mr. Locksley?” Gold asked, voice dropping so it was barely above a whisper, hardly discernible over whatever Marco was building in the other corner of the room.

Robin opened his mouth to answer, but Killian put his hand on his shoulder, taking a step in between him and Gold. “I’m not doing this anymore,” he said evenly.

“This?” “I’ll finish the competition and if I win then fine, but I’m not going out of my way to try and meet some sort of standard you’ve set so I can save a couple of thousand dollars during this refurb. It’s not worth it.” He was going to punch that stupid eyebrow off Gold’s stupid face. And then he was going to snap that fucking cane in half.

“And you’ve decided this since winning the last competition,” Gold said softly, not meeting Killian’s gaze.

“Yeah.” “Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I’d hoped you were smarter than that. Mr. Locksley’s correct, we didn’t have a legally binding deal as far as the network shows, but I thought it was something that could have been mutually beneficial to both of us. There was even an inquiry from one of the tabloids about doing a long-form feature on you early next year, something about your rise to the top of the culinary world in the city despite...well, you know.” Killian did know.

He clenched his jaw tightly, Robin’s presence behind him weighing on the back of his mind, like he could feel the frustration rolling off his friend. Killian’s right hand wrapped tightly around his brace, Gold’s eyes darting down towards the prosthetic, that same, stupid smile still on his face.

He knew.

And he almost punched Gold again.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut quickly – trying to think of anything but the self-assured, arrogant man in front of him – and was suddenly struck with a completely different picture.

Emma.

And her hand wrapped around his brace, hair splayed out on his pillow underneath her, the breathless sound she’d made when he’d kissed her, tasting like rum and, eventually, the middle-of-the-night breakfast he’d made. She’d stayed. The entire night, let those walls down for a few hours, tangled up in his sheets with his arms – and one hand – wrapped tightly around her.

He hadn’t taken the brace off – they’d cross that bridge eventually, maybe – and she hadn’t asked, but she’d stayed and that seemed like the biggest victory. And then he knew, without a shadow of a doubt – not that he’d really had many to begin with – that he didn’t need Gold or the deal or an in-depth feature in some tabloid.

He had the food.

He had the building – eventually he’d have tables and a door and, possibly, central heating.

And, it seemed, he had her.

That was enough.

Gold widened his eyes – clearly waiting for an answer – and Killian licked his lips quickly before opening his mouth. “I do know,” he said slowly, like he was trying to wrap his tongue around every word and syllable, determined to get his point across. “And I know I’m some sort of jewel in your real estate crown or something ridiculous. Fine. That’s fine. I can still be that. And I’ll still cook, I’ll still be on TV, you can flash my name around to other prospective clients whenever and wherever you want. I couldn’t care less. But I’m not going out of my way to meet some criteria you set. I’ll pay you the money I owe you, I’ll pay you more a month if that’s what you want, but I won’t play this game anymore. It’s childish.” It seemed like the entire world stopped spinning for a moment – or at least everyone in the general vicinity of Killian, Robin and Gold. Marco wasn’t even trying to sand anything anymore, hammer forgotten on the floor and a slightly glazed expression on his face as he stared at the three men.

Gold pursed his lips tightly, leaning on the cane and drawing a short line in the dirt at his feet. “Interesting,” he said softly and Killian chanced a glance at Robin who simply shrugged in response.

“That so?” Killian asked. “You’ll still get paid.” “I’m not even remotely worried about getting paid. I’m simply saying it’s interesting that you’d want to hinder your own career like this.” Killian’s eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch and he heard Robin shuffle his feet behind him. “I’m not certain that’s true,” he said softly.

“No?” “No.” “Then I’ll repeat myself,” Gold muttered. “It’s an interesting choice.” “I think we’ll be fine.” “Of course.” Robin kicked at a rock, bouncing it off the back of Killian’s shoe as he stared expectantly at Gold, waiting for the next thinly veiled comment on his choices and decisions regarding his own restaurant and money.

He didn’t say anything, just kept leaning on his cane with that smug smile on his face and a knowing look that left Killian with a knot of anxiety in his stomach so tight he was positive several internal organs were being threatened.

“Uh, Killian,” Marco said, cutting into the conversation with a slightly stuttering and clearly nervous voice. “There’s someone here to see you.” He glanced questioningly at Robin – who shrugged again, his own curious smile on his face. “Only Gina knew we were coming here,” he said.

“Who is it, Marco?” Killian asked, glancing over Gold’s shoulder at the shadow leaning just inside the doorway.

“Said his name was Nolan. He’s in a uniform.”

Killian took a deep breath through his nose, rolling his eyes towards the vaulted ceiling of the warehouse and Robin sighed so audibly he was surprised he hadn’t created a small dust storm with the power of his breath.

“Seems you might be a bit distracted,” Gold said and Killian wondered, again, why they couldn’t have done this over the phone. “Remember what I said Mr. Jones. I think it’s probably in your best interest to remember the deal. And without another word he was gone – walking towards the doorway David Nolan was, apparently, standing in and leaving Killian and Robin to gape at that latest veiled threat he’d leveled them with.

Marco was still standing nearby, eyes wide as he rolled back onto his heels and crossed his arms. “Killian,” he said again. “The police officer?” “What?”

“There is a police officer at the door wanting to talk to you.” “Oh, yeah, yeah, send him back. It’s, uh, it’s my girlfriend’s brother.” Marco nodded once, confusion turning into amusement on his face as he turned towards the door. Robin sounded like he was choking on air. “You going to be alright there?” Killian asked, looking over his shoulder at his friend. “Because I don’t know CPR or anything.”

“You don’t know CPR? Isn’t that like a restaurant requirement?” “Will knows. So does Ari. We’re covered on multiple fronts.” “And so are you apparently, with labels and definitions and spending thousands of dollars of our money for some girl.” Killian stared at Robin for a moment – the sound of David arguing about the mandated hard hat he had to wear on a currently active construction site lingering in the back of his mind like it was white noise behind him – and tried not to immediately become some sort of emotional font in the middle of that same currently active construction site.

“She’s not just some girl,” Killian said, staring at his shoes.

He saw Robin move, two steps towards him and his hand on his shoulder before Killian even lifted his head. “I know,” he answered. “I know she’s not.” “It’s your money too. I should have asked.” “Probably,” Robin chuckled. “But I agree with you. We watched on Sunday, you know. And you guys were good together. Really good. Even Gina thought so. She thinks Zelena’s going to give Emma her time slot back.” “She better,” Killian grumbled, drawing another laugh out of Robin.

“She will,” he said, the certainty in his voice helping to loosen that knot of anxiety wrapped around one of Killian’s intestines. “She deserves it. So, it’s ok. We’ll rebudget and we’ll figure it out and Gold can fuck off. Him and his tabloid contacts. Like you’d ever do a feature story like that anyway.” Killian’s mouth hung open and he didn’t even turn around when he heard David’s footsteps approaching behind him. “Thank you,” he said seriously, Robin’s hand still clamped tightly on his shoulder.

“Don’t. You don’t have to do that. You’ve kept my family feed for the last five years. You’re, quite possibly, my son’s favorite person. And I know she might not show it very often, but even Gina appreciates everything you’ve done for her and her career. So, if the one thing I have to do in return is reconfigure a budget so that your girlfriend can get her time slot back and you can keep being as happy as you’ve been for the last few months, then I’ll do that, no questions asked. Except, you know, maybe let me tell Gina.”

Killian barked out a laugh, shaking his head and stuffing his hand into his pocket. “Deal,” he said.

“Deal.” “Killian?” David’s voice cut through the warehouse and he spun on the spot, eyebrows halfway up his forehead by the time he came face to face with Emma’s older brother.

“Hey,” he said slowly. Robin walked up behind him again – like he was flanking him or something. “What are you doing here?” “Yeah,” David laughed, flicking his fingers together quickly before finishing his thought. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure.” “No?” “Well I can’t exactly pretend like I was in the neighborhood could I?” Killian shook his head slowly, straightening his shoulders a bit. David sighed, his entire body moving with the movement as he dragged the air back into his lungs. “You think we could talk somewhere? Unless you’ve got stuff to do. I don’t know what you’re schedule’s like.” Killian’s eyes darted towards Robin quickly – some unspoken conversation that, somehow, made him feel a bit better about a privateconversation with soon-to-be-detective David Nolan. “Sure,” he said, stepping back towards the doorway. “You mind going back outside? It’s going to be pretty loud in here.” “If it means I get to take this ridiculous hard hat off, then I don’t mind going outside.” “Ok.”

He walked around David, resisting the urge to run his hand through his hair or grip the top of his brace tightly and pushed open the tarp that had been staple gun’ed across the doorway again. They stood in silence for a few excruciating moments, each of staring at their respective feet and Killian tried to ease the tension in his shoulders.

“So, uh, a little out of your precinct aren’t you, officer?” Killian asked, tugging the front of his jacket together. It was snowing.

“Just a bit,” David laughed and that seemed like a victory – the sarcasm hit its mark and that was a good starting point for whatever this was. “Listen,” he said sharply and Killian’s eyes widened, standing at attention whether he wanted to or not. Some things never changed. “I wanted to talk to you.” “So I gathered.” “I’m serious.” “What can I do for you David? It probably wasn’t easy to get out here, so I assume there’s some sort of major point you wanted to make.” David narrowed his eyes pointedly, shifting the belt around his uniform pants and Killian tried not to roll his eyes when he adjusted his holster. “I wanted to apologize.” Well, he hadn’t been expecting that.

“For what?” “Take your pick,” David shrugged. “The background check, being an asshole for the last few months, acting like you were somehow going to show up and, by default, hurt my sister and her kid. I just worry about Emma a lot, more than I should, honestly, because no one knows better than me that she can take care of herself. But, uh, well, this is different. You and her. It’s different.” The knot loosened slightly – replaced with something that felt like a lurch and Killian just raised his eyebrows in response. “She’s happy,” David said simply and the knot was gone.

“I’m glad,” Killian said. “That’s kind of the point.” “It hasn’t really been easy for her.” “I know that.”

“Do you?” David asked, voice flush with disbelief. “All of it?” Killian tilted his head and narrowed his eyes a bit. “What do you mean?” David sighed again, rolling his head between his shoulders until his neck audibly cracked and he stared up at the clouds like they would provide an answer to the question Killian had asked. “It’s not really my place.” “You’re right,” Killian agreed. “It’s not.” And that seemed to catch David by surprise. “You don’t want to know? Aren’t you curious?” “Sure I am, but that’s Emma’s job, not yours. So if you came out here to lord some information over me and try and prove that I don’t know her as well as I think I do, I’m afraid you’re going to come up short on that front. She can tell me in her own time.” David tapped his fingers on the top strap of his holster, lips twisted thoughtfully and eyebrows pulled low. “You tell her about this?” he asked.

“This what?” “This thing you’ve got going on with Gold.” “What do you know about that?” “I’m very good at running incredibly complete background checks.” “I’m sure the criminals of the city quake in their boots at the approach of Detective Nolan.” David’s eyes widened and the frustration was as clear as if it had somehow slapped Killian across the face. “He’s not a good guy, you know. This Gold guy.” “I’ve realized that.” “How did you end up here?” “You’re going to have to be more specific.” “How did you end up expanding your restaurant to one of Gold’s buildings?” David sighed. “You know he’s been investigated by the department a couple of times.”

“So I’ve heard. But it’s a good space and a good location and we wanted to expand, so here we are. He’s just the owner of the building. That’s it.” “Why was he here?” “Am I being questioned, Detective? Should I have a lawyer present? My partner’s inside, he could come out too if you’d like.” David sighed again, rolling his eyes. “This apology isn’t going the way I had planned.” “Feels a bit more like an inquisition.” “They always said I was very good at interrogating suspects.” “Is that what I am? A suspect?” “No,” David admitted. “But you’re dating my sister and I know she stayed with you after the party and she’s never done that. Ever. So, I’m going to ask my questions and no one is suggesting you’re legally obligated to answer them, but it might make all of this a bit easier for everyone if you did.” Killian brushed his hair out of his eyes – snow falling on his feet in the process – and dragged his thumb across the back of the prosthetic, trying to remember the last time he’d had a conversation like this one.

Never.

And he’d never been more happy to have a conversation like this one.

Because it meant Emma had a family and people to defend her, people who, might, love her as much as he did.

Huh.

He shouldn’t have been surprised by the realization – certain he’d been in love with her from the moment she walked onto the prep kitchen set for those all-star promos months ago – but it was a strange epiphany to come to under the glare of David Nolan and a few feet away from a restaurant that may, now, be completely outside the realm of his financial ability.

But then he remembered the way she felt next to him, hair in his face when he woke up and the electric shock that had gone through his entire system when she crawled out of bed and walked into his kitchen in his shirt.

He loved her.

More than the food. More than the restaurant. More than anything.

“Gold was here because he and I had a deal, in addition to refurbing the warehouse and paying rent on the building that, if I won the network all-star thing he’d cut back on costs. I told him I wasn’t interested in doing that anymore.”

“Why?” David asked, hardly waiting for Killian to finish talking before he asked his follow-up.

“You know why.” “I’d love to hear you say it.” “Because of Emma. Because if I win then she won’t and I want her to win.” “More than you want to win?” Killian nodded, trying to swallow down the small ball of emotion that seemed to have taken up residency in the back of his throat. “Huh,” David muttered, taking another deep breath.

“What did you expect exactly?” “I have no idea. Not that though.” “She deserves to get her show back. And I don’t care about the money or Gold or…” he trailed off, voice catching on that emotion still lodged in his throat.

“What?” David prompted.

“I just care about her,” Killian said, rushing over the words like he was running a 100-yard dash. “I want her to be happy. I was told, that’s kind of the point.” “The show was really good on Sunday,” David said. “You two were good together.” And Killian heard the rest of it – what he hadn’t actually said, the apology David couldn’t quite bring himself to say. They were good together – good enough that Killian, truly, didn’t care about the restaurant or Gold or the money.

He just wanted Emma to be happy.

“Thanks,” Killian said. “I was glad I could help.”

David nodded slowly. “You did. Or have. And not just with the show. She really is happier than I’ve seen in a long time. So is Henry. Mary Margaret and I have always tried to be everything for both of them, but, well, I think this is good. You and Emma and Henry. I think it’s really good. For all of you.” “I do too.”

“Good, good,” David said quickly, muttering over the words like he was half saying them to himself. “Listen, I really did come here to apologize. Mary Margaret’s been bugging me about it for ages, since Halloween. So I’m sorry about that. And I’m sorry for telling Emma about your brother and not trusting you and a whole slew of vaguely other high-school type things that were completely out of line.”

Killian was freezing – it was starting to get windy with the snow now despite the line of warehouses around him, there wasn’t much to real block the air blowing off the canal. He looked up at David, slightly wary expression plastered on his face, and tried not to think about how cold it was. Or had been.

There was a metaphor in there somewhere.

“It’s alright,” he said, ignoring David’s soft huff of disagreement.

“You’ve got quite a support system in Mary Margaret, you know.” “Your wife clearly has very good taste.” David let out a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan and smiled at Killian. “Well, she’s not wrong. You might not be the horrible guy I’ve painted you out to be in my head. You might almost be a good guy.” “Almost,” Killian agreed. “I’m growing on you, I can tell.” “Don’t push it.”

“You want some coffee?” Killian asked, nodding back towards the tarp-covered doorway behind him. “For some reason Robin brought two thermoses.” “That’s an awful lot of coffee.” “He’s nothing if not consistently prepared.”

“So I can see,” David laughed. “Thanks for the offer, but I should probably get back to the city. I can only claim to be on lunch for so long. But, uh, before I do, I wanted to ask you something.” “Curious about my tax returns? Social security number?” “Nothing like that,” he said, shooting a glare Killian’s way. “I wanted to ask you about Christmas.” “Christmas?” “You know like the holiday in two days?.” “I’m familiar with it.” “Well, Mary Margaret is cooking and my mom is coming down again, which has Mary Margaret completely stressed out, but it’s kind of a tradition. And Emma makes all the vegetables and they’re all obscenely fancy and vaguely French, but they’re delicious and Henry and I play video games all day.”

“Sounds nice.” “It is. That’s why I’m telling you that you should come. For dinner. At least.” “What?”

Killian’s teeth were chattering a bit now, the pain in his jaw a stark contrast to the small little fire that seemed to have erupted over every other inch of his skin. They closed The Jolly on Christmas – and for the last few years he’d spent the morning with Robin and Regina and Roland, trying not to be too obviously delighted by the seven-year-old’s absolute fascination with presents and the old claymation TV specials. But that only lasted a few hours and then the entire Locksley clan went farther uptown to see Regina’s mother and Killian had no interested in being part of that – ever.

Ariel and Eric had tried to get him to come to their apartment for dinner the last few years, but the prospect of having to deal with her father and his uncle and questions as to why the two of them hadn’t started having kids yet was also something Killian didn’t really want to encounter on a holiday that, once upon a time, had meant something to him.

So he’d go home after Roland had opened his last gift and eaten dinner by himself and, like clockwork, wondered what Liam would have said if he could see him.

Probably some sort of snarky comment about putting yourself out there and family and friends. And just thinking about that made Killian’s heart clench in his chest.

“I think you should come,” David said pointedly, breaking into Killian’s sidetracked mind and vaguely depressing stream of consciousness.

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled.

“You have to work?” “No. We close on Christmas. I’m not a monster. I know people have families.” “You could too.” Killian’s jaw ticked again and he pulled his eyes away from his shoes to stare at David, meeting his nervous expression with one of his own. “I’ll think about it,” he said again.

David sighed softly, but nodded, pushing his hands in his pockets. “Alright, well, I’ve got to get back.” “Ok,” Killian said, nodding towards David as he made his way back to the patrol car parked a few feet away. He shivered slightly when the car drove away.

He stood in front of the steps of David and Mary Margaret’s building, a pie in one hand and his prosthetic pushed in his jacket pocket. And an entire pack of butterflies in his stomach.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

Maybe she didn’t want him to come.

She hadn’t said anything, hadn’t even so much as mentioned Christmas, let alone ask him to come to her family dinner at her brother’s apartment.

David had sent him the address earlier that afternoon – while Killian had been sitting in the middle of a wrapping paper mountain courtesy of Roland Locksley – and he didn’t know, even then, if he was going to go.

He didn’t know until Regina grabbed his arm while he was putting on his jacket a few hours before, a look on her face that almost made him recoil instinctively. “What’s going on?” Killian asked, doing his best to keep his voice light.

“I think you should go,” she said.

“Go where?” “To Emma’s. Obviously.” “How do you know about that?” Regina rolled her eyes at him, as if to say that she knew everything and Killian wasn’t convinced she didn’t. “Ruby told me.” “How does Ruby know?” “I didn’t ask.”

“Of course not.” “Don’t get snippy with me. I’m trying to be encouraging.” “And doing a fantastic job.” Regina rolled her eyes again, adding a dramatic sigh for good measure and smacked the arm she’d been holding tightly just a few moments before. “Go. You should go.” “Emma never even asked me,” he said, not entirely sure what he was arguing. “Her brother did.” “Which is exactly why you should go.” “Explain that one to me.” “He’s trying to prove something. That you’re part of this or however you want to phrase it. And Emma’s terrified also. That’s why she didn’t ask. The possibility of a ‘no’ is more than enough to keep her quiet.” Killian stared at Regina – the small, encouraging smile on her face taking him back for a moment. And he barely even noticed when Roland ran into his leg, trying to show off the model pirate ship he’d practically ripped out of its box earlier that morning. Killian bent down reflexively, pulling Roland up until the boat was sailing the high seas of the back of his leather jacket, Roland muttering about first mates and captains and buried treasure in his ear.

“You think she’s terrified?” Killian asked.

Regina nodded. “Of course she is. As much as you are.” He’d decided to go then.

So, there he was, close to freezing with a pie in his hand and his lower lip tugged between his teeth. Killian yanked his hand out of his jacket pocket, buzzing the apartment and yanking open the door when the lock clicked open.

It felt like he walked up the stairs and down the hall in slow motion – trying to keep his breathing even and the pie in his hand from falling on the floor. The door was already open when he walked around the corner, a body leaning up against the frame and he would have been able to spot that smile just about anywhere.

The stupid pack of whatever in his stomach seemed to exist for an entirely different reason now.

Emma pulled the door shut behind her, meeting him halfway down the hallway with ducked eyes and a soft laugh that seemed to cut right into him. “I would have asked if I’d known you wanted to,” she said, forgoing the preamble and catching Killian off guard.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t have wanted to?” She lifted her eyes, gaze darting over the pie and Emma’s smile got more pronounced as Killian tried not to beam like an idiot at her. “That’s a good question,” she mumbled. “David said he went to the warehouse.” “He did,” Killian agreed, hoping David didn’t also report on what exactly had happened at the warehouse. “Apologized for the background check.” “Finally,” Emma grumbled and the frustration in her voice made him smile more than it probably should have.

“You don’t have to be mad at him, Swan. He was just trying to protect you.” “I don’t need him to do that.” “I don’t doubt that.” Emma’s eyes snapped up – like she was surprised he believed she could take care of herself and her son. “Yeah?” she asked.

“Of course.” “You brought pie?”

“I made pie,” Killian corrected softly.

“Of course,” Emma said, repeating his words back at him. “More pecan?” Killian shook his head. “Didn’t want Henry to get sick of it. Chocolate eggnog. Seemed pretty festive.” “It is,” Emma said softly, like making chocolate-eggnog pie was some sort of declaration of culinary-based love.

It might have been.

“Although,’ she added, hand reaching out to trail along the arm of his coat. “I don’t know that he could get sick of the pecan pie. He liked it a lot.”

And it felt like they weren’t really talking about Henry or dessert options.

But maybe he was reading too much into it.

“I should have asked you to come,” Emma said, lips just a breath away from his and Killian was only a few moments away from dropping the pie on the floor. “I wanted you to come, to be here, I was just…” “Nervous?” “Terrified.” “You don’t have to be. I wanted to be here.”

“I’m glad.”

She moved quickly, surging up on tiptoes and the only warning he got – gripping the pie tightly in his right hand – were Emma’s fingers in his hair before she caught his lips and kissed him in the hallway outside her brother’s apartment. Again.

He couldn’t move his own hand – too preoccupied with keeping dessert off the ancient carpet underneath their feet – and for one crazy moment Killian was stock-still in front of her, only his lips moving against hers. And then he couldn’t quite bring himself to not be touching her – even if it wasn’t really him.

He moved his left arm, prosthetic resting on the small of her back and tugging Emma closer to him until her entire body was molded against his chest and if she was the pecan pie in this metaphor, he was positive he’d never get sick of her.

She pulled away from him far quicker than he would have liked, but her eyes were bright and she was smiling and her voice was just a bit breathless when she spoke again. “You want to come inside?” she asked. “David and Henry are playing some game that I don’t understand at all and Ruth is asking M’s about colors for the baby’s room and it’s a disaster, but the food will be good at least.”

Emma moved slightly – the bottom of her shirt riding up and the fingers of his left hand brushed against her skin. She didn’t move, didn’t jump back, just stood there waiting for an answer, a hopeful look on her face.

“I’ve got no doubt the food is delicious, love,” he said, drawing a low laugh out of her.

The door opened a few feet down the hallway as David leaned through the frame and shot an entertained look their direction. “You two done doing whatever it is new couples do in abandoned hallways?” he yelled. “Because Mary Margaret said the food is ready.”

Killian laughed and Emma groaned, forehead resting against his shoulder. “Come on, Swan,” he said, slinging his arm around her shoulder and tugging him with her towards her brother. “Don’t want to keep Mary Margaret waiting.”

#cs fic #cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #ouat ff #cs au #ootfp #this is...not going to end well #BUT THERE'S MORE PIE #so you know #it's cool

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yenneferw · 8 years ago

Text

For @timisaliar - “fluffy fic of hernando and daniela meeting the cluster?”

So as we are all painfully aware, I’m sure, the canon ended on a very upsetting note and I am not feeling the angst today (esp bc the request was for fluff lol) so I’m just gonna say that the whole Wolfgang situation was fixed very easily and very quickly and now they’re all just out for a grand time bc we could all use some happiness,,,,,, Also this kind of turned into also Lito telling them because I’m literally furious that we didn’t get to see that, I’ve been waiting for it since Nomi told Amanita :-/

Lito hadn’t thought of how he was going to tell Hernando and Daniela about the people in his head. It had come up a couple of times when one of them caught him talking to himself, or staring off into space and seeming disconnected from everyone around him. Each time, he dodged their questions and laughed things off, and the moment eventually left their minds. But it bugged Lito in the back of his head. He hated having this secret from the love of his life and his best friend. He hated hiding away what had become a major part of his life, of himself.

At some point, he started debating how he would tell him. He started thinking about how Nomi told Amanita, but it felt like that didn’t really apply. Amanita was so much different than the two of them. He didn’t see them needing zero explanation to believe what was going on inside his head. So he waited, and he kept waiting until they began to receive a bit more explanation about what was happening to all of them. And then it became something bigger and harder to hide.

And then Wolfgang was kidnapped, and it came time that they all needed to come together to help him. He wasn’t going to go so far without Hernando and Daniela, of course, and he didn’t think that they were very willing to leave him after he collapsed bloody in the bathroom without much explanation.

They followed him and flew across the world with him, but he knew that they would require some sort of reasoning. The hours of flight would be a perfect time, and he knew it, but he was still afraid. It didn’t help that he was terrified for Wolfgang, and he could feel the rest of the cluster’s fear piling up on top of him. He was shaky, even when Hernando took his hands and clasped them in his own.

Somewhere after half an hour of awkward, tense silence that was broken sometimes to quiz him on Are you sure you’re okay? You have to tell us what’s going on. Are you feeling alright? Are you going to tell us? What is going on?

“I…” he began after at least three whole minutes of reciting what he was going to say first, but the moment he started it felt impossible to keep going. He couldn’t say what he was afraid of exactly. He knew that Hernando and Daniela would never hurt him, but his life had become something out of a science fiction movie. “I understand that this is going to sound… unbelievable. I know it’s going to sound like I’ve gone crazy.”

“Lito, we aren’t going to think that you’re crazy,” Daniela assured him, leaning over her armrest, toward Hernando, to look at him. “Just tell us.”

“Please, mi amor.”

He nodded and sighed. “I… I have people in my head. Not the kind that— Not fake people. I have real people who I can speak with in my mind. Like telepathy.”

Daniela and Hernando were silent, and Lito told himself it was because they were processing, forming questions, but really, he thought that they were wondering what the hell was wrong with him.

“Lito, mi cariño, I think you might have hit your head when you fell,” Hernando finally told him, his voice gentle as he put a hand on top of Lito’s.

“No, I’m fine.” He looked to Daniela and saw the same amount of disbelief on her face. “You think that I’m crazy now.”

Nomi appeared in the aisle next to him. He looked up at her as she knelt next to him and put a hand over his other one. She didn’t say anything. In such close proximity, he could feel the fear rolling off of her in waves. She was probably on a plane as well, flying as quickly as she could to Wolfgang, with Amanita at her side. He didn’t need her to say anything, he realized. He just needed her. Though not everyone was there with her, he could feel all of them giving their support—as much as they could muster with what their cluster was going through. He felt like his problem was insignificant, and getting caught up in it was selfish. Nomi’s hand emboldened him, told him that his fear was okay, told him that Hernando and Daniela would accept him if he could find the right words. The world was crumbling around him, but it felt like they had a little more than duct tape to put it back together again.

“Lito?” Hernando said. He sounded so afraid himself. How could he not be? They were flying far, far away from home with the possibility that Lito had seriously hurt himself growing more prominent in their minds. If he were in his boyfriend’s position, he would be obsessively asking him if he was okay, and planning to take him straight to a hospital when they landed.

“No, it’s true. I… I haven’t told you because I didn’t understand. But I’m not human. I’m some other kind of human,” he explained to two very concerned faces. He was glad that they had ample enough space that he was certain no one around him could hear his hushed voice. Nomi’s fingers curled around his own and she gave a quick squeeze. “I have another family made of these people all around the world. I didn’t know about it until… somewhat recently. That’s where we’re going. My family is in trouble.”

“Hang on.” Nomi pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Do they have Facebook? Of course they have Facebook, who doesn’t have Facebook.”

Lito looked over at her with a frown, wondering what she was doing. It quickly dawned on him and he turned to his boyfriend quickly. “Are you on the plane’s WiFi? Check your Facebook. Both of you, actually. You should be getting a message from someone named Nomi Marks right now.”

They stared at him for a second. Tentatively, they took out their phones, both of them opening their messages. He watched them intently, feeling Nomi’s comforting presence behind him like cold water on an insufferably hot day. Neither of them reacted with much more than skepticism for a moment. But then a crease appeared between Hernando’s eyebrows and Lito knew he’d seen the message.

“What are you—” Daniela stopped as she presumably got her own message.

Riley appeared next to Nomi. “And me.”

“And from Riley Blue,” he added. Tentatively, they refreshed. When Will knelt next to Riley, he said, “And Will Gorski.”

“Amanita too,” Nomi said.

“And Amanita Caplan.”

“Okay, okay,” Daniela said, looking at him. He smiled over at the three of his cluster gratefully. When he turned back, he could see the other two staring at the empty space with confusion written all over them. “How is that possible?”

There was one last squeeze from Nomi, and when he turned to look, she had gone back to Amanita. He was feeling far braver now.

“We’re called sensates,” he began, and their attention now felt much less like they were watching for signs of him being hurt and more like they were begging for answers.

…

The situation with Wolfgang was resolved eventually, and when all was said and done, the cluster was a little beaten and bruised, but they were together. There was something about being physically together with his cluster that made Lito feel like some final puzzle piece was finally put in place. Before, the image was visible and was as good as it would have been without that final piece, but everything was so much more satisfying now. They went out for a drink to celebrate this victory, and of course, Hernando, Daniela, Felix, and Amanita came along as honorary members of this cluster.

There were language barriers to say the least, what with the differences amongst their honorary members, but for the most part, the conversations were all broken up anyway, so the four weren’t missing much.

Hernando knew English well enough, and he and Amanita got along really well. They started speaking about books and split off. Felix was very interested in the girl who had stolen his best friend’s heart. Daniela spent a lot of her time on the dance floor with Sun and Riley.

Lito felt in awe of their coming together, but he was easily broken out of it when Amanita came over with his boyfriend to say, “Hernando has been telling me about your new part. It sounds amazing!”

He had almost forgotten about that in everything that was going on. He could only put off anything to do with it for so long before things got suspicious or worrisome for those involved, but he knew that they would be back in time for anything serious. “Thank you,” he said. “Have you seen any of my other movies?”

“Nomi has shown me a few,” she told him, nodding. “I don’t usually like action movies, but you’re really good.”

He grinned widely, deciding more firmly than ever before that Amanita was a good one. He couldn’t wait for her to marry Nomi any more than either of them could, he was sure, and even if he couldn’t be there with them physically, he was going to be right there for his cluster family every step of the way.

“He loves it when people love his movies,” Hernando told her with a playful smile sent in his direction. Lito leaned over and kissed his cheek—still unused to being so affectionate in public, but very glad to be able to.

Nomi soon came over to them, and it seemed like she and Hernando could talk about politics and who-knew-what-else for hours on end. He loved both of them very much, but he didn’t know if he could sit in on their conversation forever, so he went out to the dance floor to join Daniela, who had started dancing with Capheus and Kala now. The three of them were laughing when he joined and all shared a glance when they saw who was entering the circle, so he suspected that he had been the topic of their joke.

“What is it?” he asked, curious to know what kind of story Daniela had brought up about him.

Kala giggled and ducked her head. Capheus slung an arm around her shoulder and looked anywhere but Lito, his face innocent.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Daniela told him, grinning.

Now he was dying to know. He knew it couldn’t have been anything bad, but he hated being excluded from any sort of joke. “Daniiiiiii,” he whined.

She shrugged with a smile and walked over to get another drink. He groaned as she walked away and looked to Kala and Capheus. The two of them laughed ruefully as they went off to dance elsewhere.

Will came up behind him and clapped him on the back. “Daniela was telling us something about a story Hernando let her in on… Something about you thinking you had cancer in the middle of traffic?”

Perhaps all of them being assembled there wasn’t all that it was cut out to be.

…

The next day, they met up for brunch, going to a restaurant that Daniela had found online and had said looked “very cute.” They had to push a couple of tables together to accommodate the twelve of them. Lito was really tired even though it was eleven-thirty in the morning, so he scooted his chair closer to Hernando’s to better lean against him.

“I don’t want to go back,” Capheus was saying. “Meeting has been… amazing.”

Lito understood. They all understood, better than any of the non-sensates at the table could. It was something that was hard to put into words, but something that hummed inside them like the feeling of their connection, deep and beautiful.

Wolfgang and Kala looked at each other. Lito could feel what passed between them like a song playing from another room, distant but recognizable. They would stay together in Paris. Will and Riley looked at each other as well, neither of them sure where they would go when all was truly said and done. Would Will be able to stay away from Chicago? Would Riley want to come to America? Lito assumed that she would, but he still knew that there was uncertainty to come.

“What does it feel like?” Hernando spoke up suddenly. He had been very curious, but he had kept his questions to a minimum, surprisingly. Lito was sure that his boyfriend could see how strained he had been because of all that had gone on and didn’t want to burden him with questions, but his thoughts and ideas were never burdens. “The… being together.”

They all passed glances and everyone looked to Lito. He didn’t have the right words to explain it, so Sun stepped in. “It feels like touching the ground after flying.”

“It feels like staying in your own bed after a long trip,” Kala added.

“What does it feel like normally?” Daniela asked.

“Like home is never that far away,” Capheus said.

Lito nodded and clung to that analogy. He had always thought that it felt like being able to call your home in a sense. “That’s how I think of it.”

He had found home in a lot of ways. He had found home in Hernando and Daniela. He had found home in his cluster. He had found safety and love in them, but they had always been different worlds that would be difficult to collide. Hernando’s hand on his and his cluster’s presence in his heart… He didn’t want to leave either.

#sense8 #sense8 fic #my writing #timisaliar #mine #this is completely unproofed i'm????#i'm bad

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