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snarkwrites · 4 years

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11 | gangsta; sweetpea

Notes:

SO.. I uhh... Got super into writing this recently. I just really liked where it was heading after part 7. Yes. Yes, I realize that literally no one asked for more of this but.. I wrote it. Might as well share it.

I warn in advance, yet again. There’s not quite as much going on in this chapter as the previous one but there is still A LOT. And Dave kind of makes an indirect appearance. Via text.

This is the final part I have already written and waiting to go. I know, I know.. Literally no one asked for this. But you’re getting it anyway. Catch you guys with more of this fic that literally nobody has asked for in a few days, probs.

Warnings:

loosely canon compliant - this is the biggest warning, so if you’re into things that follow exact canon plot you are… definitely not going to like this. angst & slow burn, heavy sexual tensionstarting now, actually - this is just so everyone who started reading this thinking the smut would transpire in a hurry knows that apparently, it is not. violence / swearing & fighting, possible underage drinking and other shenanigans- look.. it’s high school. shit happens. also apparently, my ofc Alyssa uses the word fuck like all the time?…eventual sexual content / a virgin original character- this one is self explanatory. yes, i plan to write a smutty chapter in this at some point. when? i don’t rightly know. it’s got a while before we get there. revenge porn / grooming behaviors + an older boyfriend that Alyssa had in Chicago and moved to Riverdale to get away from are hinted at here. And this chapter might not be the only one in which we hear about Dave Novak. - I put this here so it doesn’t trigger anybody. I tried to be very very very vague when I wrote out things.. But if you can’t handle it, I understand trust me... This is not going to be a huge part of the fic, no worries. It will have a small arc, but then it’ll be resolved.

Pairing:

Andrews!Sibling OFC, Alyssa x Sweet Pea

Other Parts:

[ one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - soundtrack ]

Other Stuff:

[ faq - tag list doc ]

Tagging:

@brithedemonspawn is the only person on my Riverdale tag list. If you’d like to be tagged for this story by all means.. Please let me know. Please, I beg. It’d make me super duper happy!!!

ELEVEN.

We all seemed to have the same idea. We wound up down at the quarry at the same time. Cheryl and I emerged with Kevin from the path leading away from Riverdale High to find Toni and Sweet Pea were already sitting on the bank, staring out at the water.

Cheryl took a seat beside Toni, leaning against her side with an arm around her. I sat down between Sweet Pea and Kevin. Kevin’s eyes darted around the area. “So this is what the quarry looks like in daylight.”

“Mhm.” I mumbled. Not really caring about any potential awkwardness as I found myself leaning against Sweet Pea’s side. Gazing out at the water. Sweet Pea slipped an arm around my shoulder but I didn’t notice it until a little later when his hand squeezed my upper arm just as I started to cry a little.

People had been somber and quiet all through the day. Weatherbee announced the death on the intercom with morning announcements and while you had some Bulldogs who were a lot less hesitant to openly say good riddance, you had quite a few people who were just saddened that everything played out the way it did and resulted in Fangs death.

“Midge shouldn’t have been with us that night. I can’t stop thinking that whatever the Hood saw that night gave him the impression that Midge was down here doing something she wasn’t.” Kevin sighed, shaking his head sadly. By now, he’d told Cheryl and I the whole story.

Midge had been posing as a date for both Kevin and Fangs. Helping them slip off to be together now and then. It explained why the weeks leading up to Fangs death, we saw a fair bit less.

“You guys meeting didn’t have anything to do with what happened.” Sweet Pea mused aloud, glancing at Kevin.

Kevin eyed him warily. The entire walk down to the quarry, he’d been worried that coming down with us wasn’t a good idea, that Toni and Sweet Pea might not welcome him being there, but we explained that he and Fangs weren’t exactly a deep secret among the four of us. “I tried to tell Dad to let him go out the back of the station entirely, but Minetta intervened. Insisted that he went out the front or the side.”

“Because Minetta’s a fucking prick who only wanted to make sure his stupid half assed attempt at ‘justice’ got put on the news at 8.” Toni muttered. Reaching out to give Kevin’s shoulder a squeeze. Kevin took a shaky breath or two and nodded.

“I just can’t stop feeling like somehow, if one thing happened just a little differently.”

“Me too.” the rest of us muttered in unison before we all fell silent again. The late afternoon sun sank lower in the sky. Toni stood, pulling Cheryl off the ground. “We need to be getting back to the campground… Getting ready for the last practice of the play... Kevin, if you wanna walk with us…”

Kevin nodded, pulling himself off the ground. Glancing back at Sweet Pea and I. I called out to the three of them that I’d see them later.

This left Sweet Pea and I down on the bank alone.

And for about ten minutes, neither of us really said anything.

The chill started to take over the air and I hugged myself a little. Wishing I’d worn more than the thin black and white striped long sleeve top I was wearing with my favorite jeans. Sweet Pea must have seen me doing it, because he moved to sit behind me. One of his legs on either side of my body as his arms wrapped around me and he propped his chin on my shoulder. “Better, Cherry?”

I nodded. Keeping quiet. Thinking about everything that had happened lately. I leaned myself back against Sweet Pea before I even realized I’d done it. He gave a quiet growl. His arms squeezing me just a little. Putting me even closer to him.

“None of this feels real. It feels like a nightmare.” I mumbled after a few seconds of heavy silence. Sweet Pea muttered a quiet “Yeah.” in agreement.

I turned around to face him, my legs settling over his upper thighs. He pulled me onto his lap completely. Raising his hands so that they rested on either side of my face. His thumb rolling over my cheeks. I’d apparently started crying a little and hadn’t noticed.

“You need to get home. Hood’s back, remember? C’mon, I’ll walk ya, Cherry.”

I nodded. Pulling myself off his lap and holding out my hand. He grabbed hold and lazily pulled himself up from the grass and nearly fell into me. We started up the trail and through the trees and I reached down, grabbing hold of his hand. Clearing my throat as I gazed up at him.

“Please don’t go after anybody or anything. You saw the huge fight that almost happened in the parking lot this morning. I don’t want anything to happen to you too, okay?” I muttered the words softly, giving him what I hoped was my best begging look.

“I promised I’d wait until Jugs did or didn’t find something. I keep my promises, Cherry.”

I nodded. Giving his hand another squeeze.

My dad’s house was in view again and I raised a brow at the sign in the front yard.

Andrews for Mayor.

“What the hell?” I muttered, nodding to the sign.

Sweet Pea eyed it, shrugging.

“It’d be better than Hermione Lodge.”

“I know, but..” I trailed off, shaking my head. We paused under the street light just as it came on overhead. We stood there awkwardly for a minute or two and then he stepped closer. Pulling me into a hug. Squeezing a little.

“Get inside, Cherry.”

I nodded, swallowing hard. Gazing up at him as the hug broke. “Let me know when you make it back to the camp.”

He gave me the thumbs up and started to walk in the direction of the campground FP had them all staying at for the time being. I wandered up onto the porch, leaning against the front door to pull myself together a little before stepping into the house.

Just in time to find Veronica and Archie sitting at the table with posters and signs spread out all over. And to hear my dad talking to my mom on the phone. My mom, of course, was telling my dad how running for Mayor may not be the best idea. But my dad was insisting that with everything that had happened as of late, somebody had to actually try to do something.

I wandered over to the table, flopping into a seat. Veronica reached out, pulling a dried leaf out of my hair.

“Did you hear the news?” she smiled at me.

“Dad’s running for mayor?” I questioned. My dad smiled. Held out his phone so my mom could say hi to me.

“Are you just getting home?” my mom asked, giving me one of her looks as she did.

“I went to the quarry after school with some friends.” I answered her.

“I heard what happened, sweetie. If you need to talk, you know you can call me, right?” my mom eyed me in concern. I nodded as I pulled myself out of the dining chair and made my way over to the stove to fix myself a plate of spaghetti.

After a few more minutes, my father ended the call, coming to sit down across the table from me. “Well? What do you think, tiny?”

“Honestly? I think this is a good thing. A very good thing. If anybody can fix all the crap that’s wrong with Riverdale, I think it’s you.” I smiled at my dad. Veronica spoke up, voicing her agreement.

After my dad went upstairs to take a shower, my brother spoke up.

“All the stuff with Hiram is behind me. I can’t believe I thought I’d be able to pull off what I was trying.”

Veronica gave his hand a squeeze and spoke up, gazing at me. “Your brother finally realized what I’ve been trying to point out to him about my father all along. And then I found out new things and… I have to do something.”

“Do I want to know?” I asked, twisting spaghetti around my fork and taking a bite. Veronica shook her head and muttered quietly, “I wish I didn’t know. That’s all I want to say right now. I’m still trying to get my head around it all.”

I nodded. Dropping the subject.

“Where’d you get the shiner, Archie?” I nodded to his black eye. He shrugged it off, chuckling. “Chuck ran his mouth at practice. I shut him up.”

“Oh shit.. Tell me he wasn’t stupid enough to try his crap with Veronica again?”

“Nope. He just ran his mouth.”

I laughed quietly, shaking my head. Putting my bowl into the sink and making my way up the stairs, into my room. Flopping across my bed right as my phone went off twice.

[ tall broody and handsome ] I made it, cherry. Jughead thinks he might’ve found something out too. Going to meet him now. I’ll let you know.

I texted back quickly.

[ cherry ] thank you for letting me know.

I hesitated because I wanted to type out that I didn’t know what I’d do if something happened to him too, and after staring at the entered words, I erased them, going with the simple thank you.

Then texting him again.

[ cherry ] that was fast. Be careful. You’ve got your switchblade and another person with you, right?

The next text had my skin crawling and everything I’d eaten that day crawling up my throat.

[773 - 589 - 7956] guess who?

[ 773- 589 - 7956 ] i bet you think it was real cute.. Turning over all that stuff to help them lock me up. i know it was you, scarlet.

[ 773 - 589 - 7956 ] you owe me, scarlet. And i intend to collect.

I threw my phone down and crawled up to the top of my bed. Putting my knees to my chin and my arms around my knees. Taking long deep breaths but that didn’t help me at all.

He wasn’t supposed to get out. How had he gotten out?

My stomach churned. I knew I needed to tell someone, but at the same time, I didn’t want to, either.

I got myself into this mess. I needed to get myself out. One way or another.

Besides, I tried to convince myself, there’s no way he’ll come to Riverdale.

XXX

Sweet Pea got to the place he’d agreed to meet Jughead just in time to see the end result of the fight.

Well, it wasn’t so much a fight as it was a one sided ass kicking. He managed to get his hands on some of the Ghoulies sent by Penny Peabody to find Jughead and get even, but Jughead was laying there on the ground. Badly beaten. Unconscious.

He picked him up and carried him to the hospital. Calling FP on his way there. Explaining what he’d seen and what he thought happened. FP showed up at the hospital with Toni and a few of the other Serpents about fifteen minutes later, just as the doctor was coming out to tell Sweet Pea that Jughead was awake.

FP went in first.

And outside in the waiting room, Sweet Pea found himself thinking about the one thing that Jughead had managed to say before he slipped into unconsciousness. A Bulldog hadn’t fired the shot that killed his best friend.

Midge’s mother had done it. In a fit of grief. The cops weren’t pressing the issue. And Sweet Pea felt conflicted, because on the one hand, he understood that it was grief. On the other hand, he wanted some kind of revenge. Closure.

Because he’d just lost his best friend. The only person he had left that he considered true family. Fangs had been like a brother to him.

His mom had mentioned that he had a half brother once, but that they’d never know each other. Fangs felt more like family to him than any of his blood relations did at this point, because Fangs was always there.

XXX

Inside the hospital room, FP explained what he’d done to keep Fangs safe until the heat was off. Jughead listened and when his father finished, he spoke up quietly. “We have to at least let Sweet Pea know. The guy was his family. Fangs was the only family Pea really had.”

FP mulled it over, nodding. “I’ll talk to him when I go back out into the waiting room. You find anything you were lookin for about who fired the shot?”

“Midge’s mom. She turned herself in this afternoon. They’re not going to do anything to her, I don’t think.”

Betty rushed into the room and FP made his way out, letting the two be together alone. Once he was back in the waiting room, he spotted Sweet Pea sitting sprawled in one of the flimsy chairs. He walked over and sat down beside him.

“Fangs ain’t dead, kid. I had to get him the hell away from here because there were very real threats made.”

Sweet Pea eyed him, a brow raised.

“What the fuck do you mean Fangs isn’t dead?”

“We protect our own, kid. Fangs was being threatened. I got him out of town.”

“Toni and I were mourning our best friend. Does that mean shit to you?” Sweet Pea took a deep breath to keep himself calm. FP nodded. Sighing as he muttered that he understood. And then he explained that as soon as things cooled off between the North and the South side, he’d be sending for him to come back.

“I want to see him. If you’re not full of shit.” Sweet Pea insisted.

“Perfect. You can make the supply run out to where I have him stashed. Better get going, kid. I want you back in time to make class tomorrow. We clear?”

Sweet Pea nodded, standing. FP gave him a key to the RV he was staying in currently, told him where to find the supplies he’d need to give Fangs. He gave him a wad of cash to give to Fangs and then a few smaller bills. Smirking as he mused aloud, “Keep it, kid.”

Sweet Pea nodded, even though he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt taking money from the guy. And then, he set off to run the supplies to Fangs.

#sweetpea fanfiction #sweetpea imagine #sweetpea fanfic #sweetpea imagines #sweetpea fic #my writing ; sweetpea #my fanfiction ; sweetpea #my fics ; sweetpea #// i can't warn you enough. read.all.the.warnings. seriously people.

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let-it-raines · 5 years

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Catch Me If You Can (36/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Whaaaat? Two chapters in two days? What kind of alternate universe are we living in?? 😉 This is totally to make up for the last few chapters taking forever even though they’re literally just sitting on my computer!

Thanks to @imagnifika for her awesome art, @resident-of-storybrooke for reading these words and so many other words of mine (it’s a lot), and to @wellhellotragic who prompted me with the idea that inspired this whole thing all the way back in June!

AO3: Beginning | Current

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-/-

Killian fucking hates Boston.

It’s a great city full of good food, and in another lifetime, he’d mostly likely enjoy living here. Right now, the air is crisp with the scent of fall, and trees are in the middle of losing their leaves, the ones remaining a myriad of oranges and reds that remind Killian of sitting in a park in Cincinnati with his mother raking up leaves and then jumping into the piles before cleaning them up for the city. He had to have been four or five then, but that’s one of the first memories that he has. Looking out the window of his hotel room to a park that looks almost identical reminds him of that.

He should be happy, more than happy really, but when you’re trying to get to the World Series next week and are currently tied 2-2 in the AL Championship Series against the Red Sox on the way to getting there, happiness isn’t exactly the most common feeling.

And they’re playing in Boston tonight, and despite the fact that they won last night, beating both the team and the deafening roar of the crowd, Killian is not entirely convinced that they’re going to win again tonight. They could still come back from it by winning the next two games at home, but he’d really rather win here and then win the sixth game at home when he’s pitching and not have to deal with the nastiness of going to a seventh and deciding game.

Who in the hell wants to play sports for a living? It’s too damn stressful.

Losing won’t kill him, not at all. The fact that he’s having the season he’s having, especially with all of the ups and downs and lay-offs, is incredible and a full-credit to his team. But he got the taste of being the last team standing last year, and he wants it back.

Some players never get their hands on the trophy, and Killian is greedy enough to want it twice both for himself, his teammates, and his family.

And Emma. He wants it for Emma.

So, Killian really hates Boston and the fact that they keep putting them in close situations like this. Close games are often the best ones, the ones that have everyone on the edge of their seat, but Killian would kill for an easy night.

“The city isn’t going to implode just because you’re staring out at it with evil in your eyes.”

“One can hope though.”

“That’s entirely sadistic.”

He huffs and turns from the window to look at where Emma is sitting in bed (they’ve stopped bothering to get different hotel rooms now) with her knees pulled up so that she can rest her laptop there. He woke up this morning to her typing away. Apparently, she didn’t finish her work last night, so she had to wake up early this morning to send in a report before the deadline. Walsh’s firing has ended up having Emma needing to write more on top of her regular work, and even though she says she doesn’t mind – “I like writing,” she keeps saying – he knows that it’s kind of a kick in the teeth for her to have to do some of Walsh’s work.

The man is never fully going to go away, obviously. He and Brennan are like a bug that won’t die no matter how much you squash it.

“Are you almost finished with your report, love?”

“Yep,” she says. “I’m finished with it and have moved onto doing my prep work for today’s game as well as a little bit of online shopping because there are these boots that I really want but can’t decide if I’m going to buy.”

“That’s the hardest decision you’ve ever made.”

“Says the man who spends hours trying to decide which identical blue button-down shirt he wants to buy to ‘update’ his wardrobe.”

Killian scoffs and walks forward to flop down on the bed next to her, shaking the mattress with his movement, until he’s flipping over on his back and spreading out so that he takes up most of the space. Emma always hates when he does that.

“My clothes may not be as varied as yours, my darling, but it does take effort to look as good as I do on a regular basis.”

He turns his head to the side to look at her, a smile on his face, and she simply rakes her eyes up and down his body, very obviously perusing him. “You are currently wearing a pair of sweatpants that have a hole in the ass and a hoodie that I’m pretty sure has a permanent stain from some kind of baking accident. Your fashion sense is amazing.”

“You are literally in a pair of pajama pants with Snoopy’s face on them.”

“You wear the same two uniforms all the time.”

“Sometimes we wear the black ones.”

Emma hums. “Those are my favorite. I’ll stop making fun of you for things if you can convince the owners to let you guys wear the all black uniforms more often.”

“You were particularly fond of those on Players’ Weekend.”

“I’m a fan of a man in all black.”

Killian shifts on the mattress, propping himself up on the pillows until he’s mostly resting against the headboard. He can see Emma’s computer screen now, half of it covered with statistics and the other covered with Nordstrom’s website and a pair of boots. If there’s one thing Emma will splurge on, it’s boots.

“Buy the boots, Swan. Live a little bit.”

Emma arches a brow. “Am I made of money?”

“No,” he sighs, leaning over to kiss her shoulder. “That would be very convenient if you were. I’d never work again.”

“If you’re living off of my salary, you’re screwed because I’m definitely going to buy these super expensive boots. I think they would look really cute with the black suede skirt.”

“Ah, yes, I know the one,” he says sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, half-heartedly reaching over to slap his shoulder. “You do! I wore it when we went to dinner last week, and your eyes practically fell out of your head.”

Killian tries to think of what Emma wore last week, his mind blanking on everything at the moment, but then he’s brought back to a memory of the two of them going to eat at Palma on Cornelia Street last week. She’d looked gorgeous that night, her legs going on for miles aided by the heels, and they’d been late for their reservation because the street one block over was Jones Street and Emma insisted that he take a picture underneath the sign for her to send to Liam and Elsa.

He had not been amused, but in his defense, he really wanted to eat.

“Hmm, I think I do recall that one now that I think about it. You should definitely get those boots to wear with that.”

“I didn’t need your permission, but thank you for the approval. Do we need to be getting ready to go have breakfast with everyone?”

“I’m pretty sure breakfast is over down in the lobby.”

“No,” Emma sighs, clicking a few buttons on her laptop until he sees that she did indeed buy the boots. “We’re meeting everyone for breakfast at the café at the end of the block at ten.”

Killian groans and throws his arm over his eyes like the dramatic ass that he is. “That means I have to get dressed.”

“Well, I would prefer it that way. Your pants show off what you’ve got going on in both the front and the back, and I think you might get arrested for public indecency. That’d put a damper in the whole trying to get to the World Series thing.”

“Would you bail me out?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and closes her laptop. “Eh, maybe. I might not have the money with the boots I just bought.”

-/-

They win that night.

It’s close, far closer than Killian would like watching from the sidelines, and he chews more gum than he thinks he’s ever chewed during a game. Rum would be preferable, but that’s not exactly the best solution when he’s got two nights until he’s got to pitch in the game that could bring them to the World Series.

Al really has far too much confidence in Killian for putting him in position in the line-up.

-/-

Killian fucking loves New York.

Sure, it’s hot and crowded and sometimes smells absolutely horrendous, but he loves it. He’s lived here for seven years, had his family live here for more than that, and he can’t imagine having to ever live anywhere else.

This is his home.

For awhile, he didn’t have one, not really. Everything changed when his mom died, the house feeling far emptier than any lived-in house should feel, and it only continued to empty as the years went on and Brennan became more and more of a distant figure. And as much as Killian loved Vanderbilt, that was simply a temporary home.

Manhattan? This is home.

One day he may like to move a little outside of the city to a place with a big yard and less traffic, but right now, everything he loves is here.

Everyone.

“Uncle Killian,” Lucy whispers, tugging on the hem of his shirt, “is it time to eat dinner yet?”

“Not quite yet, Luce. We can go ask Anna about it, though, yeah?”

He bends down and picks Lucy up, resting her on his hip while she wraps her arms around his neck so that she doesn’t fall. He’s picked her up thousands of times, had her little head nestled onto his shoulder twice that many times, but there’s something peaceful about it now as they stand in one of the sitting rooms at Liam’s house looking out onto the street in front of them as cars occasionally pass by and the leaves keep falling from the few trees that line the street.

They got in from Boston this morning, immediately went to practice, and then most everyone came to Liam and Elsa’s house for dinner as some kind of pre-game Friday night dinner to get everyone’s minds off of things.

There are more people in this townhome than it has seen in years, and he doesn’t think anyone is complaining.

Killian is a little bit, if only because his mind is very much focused on tomorrow and not screwing up to let everyone he loves down, and that’s why he’d walked away from the crowd in the kitchen and living room and wandered upstairs to the sitting room that no one ever wanders into.

Except for Lucy apparently.

Kids seem to foil all kinds of plans, and Lucy is not going to be having a fun day tomorrow since she’s most definitely up far past her bedtime.

He is officially an old man.

“What are we eating?”

“I think it’s lasagna. You know, like big spaghetti all moved together.”

“I know what lasagogona is.”

Wow, that was a butchering of the word lasagna if he’s ever heard it.

“You certainly don’t know how to pronounce it.”

Lucy scoffs, like she has never been so offended in her very short life, but she doesn’t say anything else as he walks down the staircase with the wood boards groaning beneath him. Immediately, he’s bombarded by people. Will, Belle, and Elsa are sitting on the ground with diagrams of seating charts spread out between them. Killian would have at least twenty-five questions about why they’re doing seating chart arrangements for the wedding tonight, but he already knows that it’s because they’re using Elsa to help figure out where to sit some of the more difficult people.

(He assumes he and Emma don’t count as those difficult people, but it really depends on how Will feels about him that day.)

Robin, Kris, Liam, Roland, and Addison are sitting on the couch in the living watching what Killian knows is Trolls because he’s been forced to watch it exactly seventeen times, and Eric and Ariel are standing in the kitchen with Anna cooking.

And, well, apparently Emma too.

“Are we sure we trust the blonde to cook for us?” Killian teases, putting Lucy down on the barstool. “Because I’ve had her cooking before, and I’m not sure we should allow her to feed so many people at once.”

“I’m blonde,” Lucy interjects.

“Yes, yes you are. Can you cook, little love?”

“Mommy doesn’t let me.”

“Funny,” Emma huffs, her eyes pointedly staring him down, “your uncle doesn’t seem to think I can cook either even though I’m only tossing the salad and am perfectly capable of that.”

“SoSo, we’re just going to forget the entire cucumber you dropped on the ground earlier?” Anna asks as she lays rolls out on a pan.

“What about the nearly slicing your finger open?” Ariel adds.

“What happens in the kitchen is supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

“Technically,” Eric sighs, “it hasn’t left the kitchen.”

“You guys are fu – fun,” Emma stops herself and changes the word, her eyes blowing wide when she remembers Lucy is in the room. “Luce, sweetie, do you want me to get you some carrots so you can take them in the other room to watch the movie with Addy and Roland?”

“Yes please.”

Emma turns around and opens the fridge, quickly grabbing a bag of sliced carrots, and hands them over to him for him to hand to Lucy. She takes them, mumbles a “thank you,” and then is sprinting to the adjoining living room to watch the movie.

“So you’re just bribing children now, Swan?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “but with carrots so it’s healthy. Babe, can you check my phone and see where everyone else is? Ruby said they would be here by now, but I haven’t heard anything from them. Or David and Mary Margaret. I guess they’re all in traffic or something, but it’s radio silence on their end.”

Killian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from giving anything away, hoping that his tan keeps his cheeks from flaming red. “Where’s your phone?”

“In my purse on the table.”

He nods his head and turns around, thankful that it’s a little bit out of sight of Emma, before he’s shuffling through her small purse to find her phone hidden behind every small object known to men. There is a string of texts from Ruby about Graham taking forever to get home and her almost leaving without him, and Killian sincerely hopes that Ruby didn’t actually leave without Graham. That would go against the plan.

Mary Margaret and David, though, are legitimately stuck in Friday night traffic, so at least he doesn’t have to lie about that.

“They’re on their way, love,” he tells Emma, putting her phone back in her purse and walking back to the island so that he can prop his forearms against the cool countertop. “Anna, you realize a few of us have to play a game tomorrow, right? I don’t think we can eat all of this.”

She waves a wooden spoon in the air, little bits of sauce splattering on the ground. “It’s called portion control. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Killian has. I haven’t,” Eric laughs. “Though, I’m more of a seafood man myself.”

“There’s only so much seafood that you can eat, though, before you become a fish.”

“You only say that because you don’t like it as much as I do.”

Ariel pats her husband’s chest. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God,” Will groans out, and everyone in the kitchen turns to look at him laying out on the floor. “This is impossible. Why do people get married?”

“I think you mean why do people have weddings,” Belle corrects him.

“I’m kind of questioning both at this point.”

Belle flicks a little name card at Will, and Elsa immediately snatches it back and puts it at the little diagrammed table where it’s supposed to be sitting.

“Why have a seating chart in the first place?” Emma asks. “Why not just let people sit where they want to sit?”

“My mother,” Belle sighs, this discussion obviously a frequent one, “is very traditional and specific about how things should be. She grew up in high society, cotillions and things like that, and even though Will and I mostly want this to be one big party, she has opinions. This is a compromise to make her back off until there’s something else she sets her sights on.”

“Huh,” Emma huffs. “Well, as long as I don’t have to sit next to Killian the entire time, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Shit,” Elsa mumbles under her breath even though the words echo throughout the room. “We don’t have cards for Emma and Killian.”

Laughter rumbles through Killian’s stomach as he walks back over to Emma to place his hand on the small of her back over her sweater before taking the strawberries and putting them on the cutting board to slice up. “Swan, it looks like you won’t have to sit with me because we’re apparently been uninvited from the wedding.”

“Damn. I guess we’ll just have to be wedding crashers.”

“I was thinking we could stay home and not wear uncomfortable clothes but still eat incredible food. We could probably dance a little too.”

“He means the horizontal tango, if you know what I mean.”

“We all know what you mean, Will,” Ariel sighs with a shake of her head but laughter on her lips. “But there are people here related to Killian who probably aren’t too inclined to hear about his sex life.”

“I’m not particularly inclined to hear about Emma’s,” David says, and Killian whips his head around to see he, Mary Margaret, and Leo walking thoughthrough the open garage door. “Or Killian’s. Though I hope they’re one and the same.”

“Okay,” Emma hums, dragging out the word, “we need a change in conversation, something like everyone greeting my brother and nixing this conversation entirely.”

“I mean, I’m kind of curious, but Leo is right here.”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps, and Killian misses what has to be an absolutely priceless look on her face in favor of putting his knife down and walking over to Leo so that they can do their secret handshake that seems to change every time they see each other.

“I like you hat, bud,” Killian compliments. He tugs on the bill, and Leo blushes underneath it. “I think there are some other guys here tonight who would sign it for you if you want.”

Leo’s brows furrow together and the smile on his face completely goes away. Shit. What did Killian do wrong?

“Maybe another hat. I don’t want this one to get messed up.”

“Why not?”

“You signed this one,” he whispers, even if it’s not quiet at all, “and you’re my favorite player.”

“I thought it was your favorite because I gave it to you, kid,” Emma protests as she steps around him and leans down to wrap Leo up in a hug, squeezing him too tightly out of some kind of silent protest.

“I only asked for it because Killian is my favorite player.”

“You’re my favorite nephew.”

Leo rolls his eyes, and while he and Emma may not be related, Killian knows that he got that from her. “I’m your only nephew.”

“Which makes me your favorite.” She kisses his cheek, which makes Leo’s cheeks turn as red as the strawberries. “All the other kids are in that room right over there if you want to go hang out with them until dinner is ready.”

Leo runs off, and David and Mary Margaret take his place by stepping in and greeting everyone with a wave or a hug. It’s so many people, all of them from different social circles, and yet it’s amazing how well they’ve all managed to blend together. Killian knows that he started off with more people than Emma simply by the nature of his job, that most of the people in this house would technically be considered “his,” but he likes to think that they’re Emma’s too.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to see a message from Graham just as Emma sits down and picks up a glass of wine.

Graham Humbert: We just pulled up outside. Can you send Emma out? Say something about needing help with the dessert. I think Ruby would like to tell her before she tells everyone inside.

Killian: Yeah, I’ll send her out. Congrats, mate! I’m happy for the two of you!

“Love?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Ruby and Graham just got here. Do you want to go out and see if they need any help?”

“Why don’t you do it?”

Of course she’s going to be stubborn about.

“I’m finishing this salad,” he lies, even though he really should finish the salad since he took it over from Emma. Will lets out another curse having to do with the seating chart, and there’s a reassurance from Mary Margaret that it will all be okay. “Just go help them. They have the dessert. You love dessert.”

Emma’s brows bunch together and her lips snarl, but she puts the glass of wine that she’s drinking down and stands from the barstool she’s sitting on to go walk out of the garage door and down the stairs. She’s going to be pissed at him for the entire walk out there, but he knows that it won’t be long. And curious as Killian is, he leaves the kitchen to walk over to the bay window so that he can look down at the street where Ruby and Graham are getting out of Graham’s squad car with boxes of pies in their hands. Emma quickly appears, her hands moving as she talks, and then Ruby puts her set of boxes on the hood of the car.

And while Killian can’t hear any screaming or squealing – Emma isn’t really the type – he knows that some kind of inhuman noise just came out of her before she launched herself forward to hug Ruby, squeezing so tightly that he imagined Ruby can’t breathe. And then Graham nearly drops all of the pies when Emma hugs him too. Killian chuckles to himself, a smile stretching across his lips, and then David comes up behind him.

“What’s all that about?”

“You’ll find out in a minute, I’m sure.”

“Secrets don’t make friends.”

“Yeah, yeah they do,” Killian laughs, smiling at David. “And I love how casually you’re referring to me as your friend. It really touches a man’s heart, Dave.”

“Watch it, or I’ll take it back.”

By the time Killian looks back out the window, Graham is gone, leaving Emma and Ruby out to talk. Killian is sure that they’ll be out there for awhile, probably far later than they intend to, and he knows he’ll have to go with them when the food gets here. The door opens then to Graham walking inside with the boxes. Ariel immediately rushes to help him, mostly likely because she likes to talk his ear off about all of the cases he can talk about (she’s very into True Crimes oddly enough), but Killian walks over to save him, grabbing Graham’s hand in greeting before pulling him into a hug and patting his back.

“Congratulations, mate.”

“Thank you,” Graham beams, his smile infectious. “I still can’t believe it.” “What can’t you believe?” Ariel asks as she swipes a finger through the whipped cream on a pie only for Eric to slap her hand away.

Killian looks over at Graham, silently asking if he wants to say something, and he nods, that smile still on his face. “I’ve asked Ruby to marry me today, and she said yes.”

“Congratulations!”

“You did what now?”

“How could you not tell me this?”

“This is so exciting!”

“Whatever you do, don’t do a fucking seating chart for the reception.”

It’s this big, loud chorus of voices and conversations, and it pulls in everyone from the living room too so that it gets so loud that Killian is sure the neighbors can hear. Killian isn’t even entirely sure which legs belong to who for how much movement there is, hugs being exchanged between people who didn’t even get engaged tonight, and it all starts to calm down a bit only for Ruby and Emma walk in the door.

Obviously, things never calm down again.

Ruby and Graham don’t even get to spend much time with this group of people, especially Graham since his schedule never seems to match up with any of theirs, so it’s nice to see the overwhelming joy that’s there for the two of them.

“Congratulations, lass,” he sighs into Ruby’s ear when she finally makes her way to him at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Were you surprised?”

“Yes,” she sighs, her laughter moving through him. “I can’t believe you knew about it.”

Killian rubs his hand up and down her back. “I had to make sure Emma was out of the apartment when it happened because Graham just knew that she would somehow find a way to show up if left to her own devices.”

“I think I could kiss you for doing that.”

“I don’t think that’s very becoming of a newly engaged woman.”

Ruby pulls back and winks at him before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “You know that I don’t like following the rules.”

“What is this I hear about you knowing about this before it happened?” Emma questions as she saunters up to him, a soft smile on her face and the slightest bit of mascara smudged under her eyes. “I thought we had an agreement about lying to each other, twenty-nine.”

Killian hums and wraps his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him while her arms lazily hang over his neck. “Yeah, well, I was under strict instructions that you weren’t to know because Graham didn’t want you to tell Ruby.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Her lip quirks to the side before she presses up on her toes and gently guides her mouth over his. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I like that Ruby was the one who got to tell me.”

“Me too, love.”

“All of our friends have to stop getting married. This is getting expensive.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have blown all your money on those damn boots.”

Emma slaps the back of his head even as she kisses him, and he wonders exactly where along the way did he do something right to get to have this be his life.

“Okay,” Anna yells over all of the noise, and Killian looks to see her standing on a barstool as if she needs any help commanding attention, “I know everyone is super excited right now, but let’s all be super excited over dinner. It’s time to eat.”

“Thank goodness,” Lucy breathes out. “I thought I was going to perish.”

“Where’d she learn that word?” Emma wonders as everyone starts laughing.

“I don’t even know.”

The conversation and laughter never diesdie down, not when there’s that many people around, and Killian’s stomach hurts from it all, his face a little too. His nerves about the game tomorrow and all that’s on the line haven’t disappeared, but they’re not at the forefront of his mind either. He has other things to focus on even if his mind is getting a little dizzy at the thought of keeping track of it all, but it becomes easier as the night passes, the light outside fading away into darkness, and as children move off to go to sleep, Addy and Lucy to their rooms and Leo and Roland stretched out in a guest room until their parents are ready to go home, everyone else settles into the living room with a replay of last night’s game in Boston on so that they can all watch some more footage in preparation.

He’s sitting on the floor in between Emma’s legs, and her hands are lulling him to sleep from the way that she keeps playing with his hair.

It’s like magic, her touch, and he’s utterly under her spell.

“I’m freaking the hell out about tomorrow,” Will whispers quietly as they watch him stumble over a catch in yesterday’s game.

“Me too,” Robin adds in. “Honestly, the only thing that’s keeping me calm, especially since I’m not playing, is knowing that not only did we make it to the Series last year, we won the whole damn thing.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Killian starts as he leans her head further into Emma’s lap so that she can scratch his scalp. Damn, that might be the best feeling in the world. “No one gives a fuck about what happened last year. That trophy on our shelf from last year? It’s old news. All anyone cares about is what’s happening this year. All we should care about is what’s happening this year. Everyone always complains about those guys who can only seem to live in the glory days when the glory days are long since gone, and we’re not going to be those men. We’re not resting on our laurels. We’re going to win tomorrow, and then we’re going to win the next four games to win the whole damn thing.”

“What if we don’t?” Will questions, and for once, Killian can tell that Will is legitimately nervous.

“We’re going to, Scarlet. I won’t take another option.”

“Look at my little brother being all motivating,” Liam teases.

Killian does raise his hand and his middle finger at that. “Younger, you ass.”

“You’ll always be my little brother. I’ll stop calling you that when you’ve got three World Series championships to your name, yeah?”

“Oi, I know that I’m good, but I don’t know if I can rely on these guys to not only win this year’s but also another one after that?” Emma slaps the back of his head, and he leans back to look up at her. “I’m obviously kidding, my love.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a great way to motivate the guys for tomorrow when you had a pretty good speech going there.”

Robin coughs, something exaggerated and totally on purpose. “Killian saves his best speeches for right before a the game starts. Probably because he doesn’t have his brother and his girlfriend distracting him by making fun of him. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m all for taking that piss out of Killian.”

“Someone hand me a pillow,” Killian demands, looking around. “I want to knock the smirk off of Rob’s face.”

“That’s an impossible task,” Ariel starts, a bright, happy smile on her face. “Let’s go back to loving each other and watching game footage. I don’t know about you guys, but I want that trophy back. I get a bonus from both Eric and Killian’s contract for it.”

“I always knew that I liked you,” Ruby adds in, and everyone starts laughing, the long day and late night probably getting to everyone a little bit. “Do you share the bonus with your husband since he earned it? I’m asking the important questions here as someone who is about to get married?”

“Rubes.” Emma curls her fingers in his hair and shakes her head. “Are you about to be one of those people who works in that you’re engaged all the time?”

“For the next two weeks, you bet your ass I am. It would normally only be a week, but since I think all we’re about to talk about now is baseball, I’m asking for two.”

“I would expect nothing less than you.”

Everyone leaves eventually with sleepy smiles on their faces and leftovers in hand, and as nervous as Killian still is, he finds yet again that it’s not at all like last year when he was going through this all. He’s got Emma curled up next to him in bed and a happy life outside of work, and at the end of the day, his life won’t be over if they lose.

He simply doesn’t like losing.

-/-

Killian’s arm feels fine.

Good. Great even. It’s the best it’s felt in months, even if he’s still a little timid with how much he’s using it and the fear of it screwing up again since there is such a risk for that, but he feels good standing out here under the heat of the sun with thousands of people milling in the stands and thousands more sitting at home watching on their television just wondering if today is going to be the day that the Yankees officially cement their spot in the World Series with the Dodgers already waiting there.

It could be a repeat of last year, just like everyone thought it would be, and Killian damn well intends to make those thoughts come true. They’re not resting on the laurelsrelying on what happened of last year. They’re doing it for themselves once more like it’s all brand new and they don’t know the high of being at the top of the world.

Sweat trickles down Killian’s forehead past his cap, and he reaches up to remove his hat for a second while he wipes the sweat away with his forehead. It’s not hot out today, only around sixty degrees, but Killian’s skin is on fire with the rapid beating of his heart that hasn’t calmed down since this morning.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Ball.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Strike, he’s out.

Travis is out, the top of the fourth inning is over, Killian has thrown some damn good pitches in tight situations to keep the Sox from scoring, and the Yankees are up 4-0.

There’s still a long game to go, though.

Not for Killian, though. He’s out for the day. He knew going in that Al wouldn’t keep him in for longer than this. Honestly, he’s surprised that he allowed it for this long, but this is all so they’ll stay in the correct pitching order if they make it to the Series.

When.

Not if.

Killian wants to stay in the dugout and watch from out here, but he knows that he has to go inside and get massaged and do his cool-down exercises. He can watch from one of the televisions with everyone else who’s inside and make his way back out toward the end of the game.

It’s like all at once these games are five minutes and then suddenlysuddenly, they’re five hours.

But the time does pass as Killian goes through his routines to make sure that he’s healthy and that his arm is healthy, and by the time that he’s back out in the dugout changed into a pair of clean joggers and a pullover, his hat from earlier long gone, it’s the top of the ninth with two outs, only one man on base, and the score highly in their favor.

If they blow a 9-2 lead, they deserve to have to play it all out in a deciding game tomorrow.

“Come on, Lance,” Killian shouts out, banging his hands against the railing. “Just one more throw. One more strike, and you’re done.”

“He’s going to mess up if you keep yelling at him like that,” Al spits out as he chews on the gum he’s always chewing.

“No, no he’s not. He’s got this. We’ve got this.”

“You have far more optimism than any sideline coach should have.”

Killian turns his head to look at Al, a smile stretching across his lips. “It’s a damn good thing I’m not a coach then.”

And then there’s the sound of Lance’s ball hitting Will’s glove, the yell of the word “strike,” and the roar of the New York crowd as the game finishes.

They’re going to the World Series.

Killian’s heart pounds in his chest, emotion welling up in his throat, and all of the sounds become muted. Every single one of them except for his heart and the blood running through his veins. People yell and shout and scream, but he can’t hear any of it as he rushes out into the field to join his teammates where they’re jumping up and down, arms wrapped around each other as they become a mesh of one instead of twenty different men, those who played today and those who didn’t.

Someone pats his back, and the noises come back, cheers of celebration and curses and familiar voices of the people who he spends his life with.

They’re not resting on their laurels of last year, he thinks to himself once more. They’re achieving new things.

“Jones,” Lance calls out as the pile disperses and everyone starts moving around the field, “your girlfriend wants an interview with us.”

Killian arches a brow, spinning on his heel to try to find Emma, and he sees her standing with a microphone in her hand and Jeff standing with the camera behind her. She’s wearing the damn boots, the ones she just ordered, and if there wasn’t already a smile on his face, that would cause his lips to reach his ears.

He has no idea why Emma wants to interview him when there were five innings played without him, when Lance and Eric and Will are the guys who deserve the attention and the praise, but he knows that a lot of the time Emma isn’t in charge of who she interviews. That’s left up to the people behind the scenes.

Killian wants to kiss Emma and the smile on her face, wants to wrap her up in a hug, but he holds back, stepping up to her with Lance next to him as Frank Sinatra begins to play over the speakers. He’d think that he’d get tired of this song, but it never gets old.

“Congratulations,” Emma starts, her hand reaching up to adjust her earpiece. “That was just an incredible game. How does it feel to be going to the World Series for the second year in a row?”

She holds the microphone out to Lance. “No, no. Let Jones answer first. He usually takes the words right out of my mouth.”

“You sure?”

He nods his head, and Emma moves the microphone over to him. “Well, what do you say twenty-nine? How does it feel?”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I can’t curse, can I?”

“Only if you want to pay a fine.”

“Right then,” he laughs, smiling down at Emma and completely ignoring the camera. “It feels good. Better than good. This season has obviously had its ups and downs, especially for me, and I’m happy that I didn’t let this team down when they deserve so much. I’m – ”

Killian stops talking when all of the sudden Emma starts darting in the other direction, and by the time that he realizes what’s going on, the cool feel of Gatorade is being poured down on top of him so that chill bumps rise on his arms and his clothes cling to his skin. Killian sees Lance first and sees him shaking out the sticky liquid from his uniform, and then he sees Will and Eric running away with the orange container where the Gatorade once was. But then he sees Emma a few feet away absolutely laughing her ass off, and even if it goes against their agreement about how they’re going to act when working, he can’t stop himself from running toward her and immediately wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him as her hands push at his chest and laughter passes through her lips.

“You’re covered in Gatorade,” she laughs, still pushing at him even if he knows it’s not a true effort. “It’s sticky.” “And you ran way and let it happen.”

“Which was obviously useless considering I’m going to be covered in it now.”

“Exactly the point,” he chuckles while Emma stops squirming against him and casually wraps her arms around his neck, obviously having accepted that she’s going to be covered in Gatorade too. “We’re going to the World Series, Swan.”

“I know.” And then she kisses him.

-/-

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#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic

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virtual-crisis · 5 years

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⭐Alpha Centauri⭐, Part Ten

I really need to crack this writer’s block. Third of this was already ready to go, then block happened. Again.

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I had a dream overnight. Lucid as always, and everything was a blur, like a picture out of focus. I narrowed in on something, and saw the vague figure of a capra—a goat demon—shuffling away. No doubt it was Scape- I’d only seen him in human form, but when you look at a demon side-by-side to their human form, you can just tell. As he faded into the jumbled void of latent imagination and dormant creativity, I felt myself fall…

I yelped, which had to have translated to a yip outside. After a brief moment of plummeting though, I landed on something soft and fluffy, like wool… It was coating the back of some long, slender and scaly figure, that was at once moving as well. A dragon? A dragon. A reverse hammock, my body said…

I looked down the length of its body. It gently oscillated up and down like a sine wave, gentle enough that I wouldn’t notice without looking. Its scales were azure, and its wool like the midnight sky. Not quite black, but close enough a blue to deceive the less-knowledgeable.

I lifted my four hands, gently placing my palms on the serpent’s back. I wanted to see its face, what was in front… It was so far away that if it was out there, my compound eyes were too feeble, even in a dream. Carefully, I heaved myself to my feet, like a toddler trying to stand on a train set. Not the smartest move, but my wings kept me steady.

I tried to bring the beast’s head to me with my lucidity, to no avail. Instead, I began to walk along it like a balance beam, following its motion through the subconscious abyss. As thoughts soared by like stars in space, I mindlessly kept on my way. Several times, I’d pass a pair of spindly arms, grasping at the nothingness and pushing it away, though still no sign of the head.

Perhaps there was no end. Was this just my mind clung to the East and its counterparts to my kind? I wanted to know the meaning to this entity. I had to…

My eyes opened, and I took in a confused breath. My head was hung over the side of my bed, and my body sprawled across it, still fully clothed. Moments later, my 7 o’ clock phone alarm went off. Great.

Chialer wouldn’t be up yet, and by all means I wasn’t supposed to be getting up for another hour [the alarm was meant to be snoozed], but beast-damnit I got to sleep early, so I’m clim—well, flopping out of bed early too.

So I trotted out of my room…. And spent an hour watching an animated movie. One with dragons and Japanese spirits, y’know the one. In the middle of the third act, Chialer trudged out in atronach form.

“...The fuck is up with that lady’s nose?” she grumbled at the TV.

I glared at her. “What the heck is up with your fa—”

“Yo that dragon’s fucking hot.”

I thumped my fists on the couch. “He’s an ageless spirit that presents himself as a preteen! You can’t fucking say that!” I spat.

Chialer’s eyes went wide, and she gulped, turning to dart into the bathroom. “Shit, fuck, yeah, got that.” she said hastily.

“Wash your whore mouth out with soap!” I called after her, going ahead and turning off the movie. Mood was shot for watching it now, so time for slightly higher-than-normal quality ramen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So we wouldn’t be lurking around eachother all the time, Nebb and I bunked in different dorms, so I took several minutes walking myself over there. The uni campus was nice and quiet with 8 AM classes having just started, so I enjoyed the lovely sight of the last few moths flittering away to sleep for the day, trading places with butterflies and other diurnal bugs.

For a minute, I stopped at a flower garden, staring down the various butterflies. Unlike with other humans, they looked back. I could feel the nervousness and anxiety as they looked up at me: a moth fifty or so times their size, wearing the flesh of a human and walking plainly among them. I smiled.

“I wonder how many of you will be impaled on plaques by collectors with their little nails… If you live that long, even.” I said passively, my eyes going blank. From the facing side of me, the white spots of my wings faintly showed, all watching the little bugs, each making eye contact with one.

I seized up after several moments at a sudden noise. I turned around to see another student having just opened a bag of chips as they passed by several yards away. Better only the nonsapient mortals see me being… Me.

I knocked on the front door of Nebula’s dorm, getting a rude reminder of his poor taste: three jockish frat boys burst out the door, reeking of tobacco as they barged past me. “Haha, bad timing yo, we’ve got places to be!” one said.

“Date tryouts are next week, plenty time for weight watchers!”

The trio laughed as I clenched my fists. “Hey, you Nate’s sis? Y’look like it- make him get on it too!”

I let myself into the ‘dorm’ [being generous to the frat house] as they meandered down the street. Nebula was in the kitchen, combing the messy curls of his unfittingly-bright blonde hair whilst examining some liquid suicide of a drink.

“Still haven’t arse’d those dickholes?”

“I can’t just poison whoever I want, Ally, there’s these things called laws…” Nebula said passively as he glanced over.

“Then make it look like an accident, give ‘em moonshine that’ll drop them. Lucy knows we’d be doing the gene pool a service.”

Nebb put a hand to his face, setting the comb aside before taking a swig of his concoction. “You wanna fight the police, do it yourself. I’m not here for that kinda shit.”

I sighed roughly. “Whatever. Didja get that makeup assignment done?”

“Yeah, no thanks to Ty. I watched the recording I took yesterday and reenacted it as best I could.”

“Good. Any idea what we’re gonna be yelled at about?”

Nebula slid himself over to the sink to delicately dunk his glass in. Yes, delicately. “The quiz-een day-la Fronse.” he said, waving his hands pretentiously as he dipped into an offensively bad accent. “Moan sherry, you entered at zee PERFECT time.”

I rubbed my fingers on my brow in attempt to stave off a cringe-induced headache. It wasn’t working. “Careme, Careme… So he’s talking his own specialty.”

“Yup, he says he’s named after one of the great culinary innovators from there, so you know he’s serious.”

“Riiiight.”

I looked around. The kitchen was horribly ‘maintained’ by the fraternity, and a demon of sloth was far from about to fix that. Nebula took the awkward silence as an excuse to slip away to the fridge and pitch a beer can at me. With how often he did so, I caught it reflexively.

“Get drunk, what’s up,” he said, putting his hands up. Perfect timing too, since I threw the can back and beaned him in the nose with it.

“Go chat up Bear Grylls if you wanna drink piss, I actually have a sense of taste.”

“Says the stoner?”

“Yeah, for medical purposes. I don’t see dad telling you to drink alcohol for your health.”

“That’s ‘cause it’s implied.”

I sat down at the kitchen island as two other guys came in, talking to eachother. Nebb picked the beer can off the floor and popped the dent in the side into a hole he could drink out of, courtesy of a knife handle.

“Seats taken?” one of the frat guys ‘asked’, sitting next to me. His ‘buddy’ sat on his other side.

“They are now,” I quipped boredly, leaning an elbow on the counter to prop up my chin. “Bartender, gimme a solid cup of maple syrup.”

Nebb gave me a cynical look while the other two snickered. “Seriously?” he grunted.

“Yeah? Did I fuckin’ stutter?”

The guy next to me waved a hand at Nebb. “What, thought you were mister ‘two packs is nothing’ Nate?”

“Four packs of something meant to be drunk by itself.”

“Sounds like someone’s a wussy!”

The guys went into uproarious laughter. I’d cupped my hands around my mouth to make a sound akin to a vuvuzela, and reveled in how red Nebb’s face got. The next ten minutes were primarily him ‘relenting’ and drinking pancake syrup straight from the bottle, before challenging the others and myself to do so with other condiments. I got pushed to eat a whole cup of mayo, which… Ew. When I inevitably upchucked it on Nebb, only he got laughed at as he skittered away to clean himself up.

Once he was presentable again [and in new clothes], Nebula and I made our way to the main campus, where Nebb affectionately referred to Scape’s lecture hall as its ‘belly’. Chai was lurking at the side entrance, and I pulled out a cellphone to group-text the two my frustration about having to stay in human form.

“Y’think if Careme gets enough of us in his class, we won’t have to worry about that?”

“Nah, security cameras. And the doors are windowed.”

“Fucking home.”

I glanced over my shoulder as we skulked through the halls, ensuring nobody would catch onto our whispering and muttering.

“Why’s he want us in this class anyway?” Chai grumbled.

Nebula puffed out his chest haughtily, speaking up. “He believes the more students attend his class, the more chances they’ll get to have his greatness rub off on them!” he said, teasing at nobody in particular. Chai and I both rolled our eyes, but I quickly pulled out my phone again as I got an email notification.

] (AUTOCORRECTED) You’ll be seen as under the protection of an elder demon. Makes things safer for us.

I caught Nebb’s eyes in my periphery, and we both nodded. Chai stared at us in confusion for a moment, before pulling her phone out to read the message.

When we entered the lecture hall, it was set up like a recording studio for some Iron Chef-lookin’-ass cooking show. Scape waved Chai and I down to the podium at the front, surrounded by plug-in kitchen appliances stood on three layers of tarps.

“Bonjour, salut, everyone, we have two new students in the class!” the professor said. “They’ve been taking the class online before, but now they’ve gotten a schedule opening to start showing up in person!”

Our new classmates nodded along as Nebula set the ‘make-up assignment’ on a metal folding table, before finding a seat. I was pondering what sort of job to say I had quit to make room for that excuse.

“And who better to help out in today’s lesson?”

My blank expression turned to a frown. Nevermind, I was thinking up excuses to get out of that.

“Uh, I missed this part’a the syllabus. What’re we doing?” Chai said, leaning an arm on my shoulder.

Scape planted his hands on a stove, smiling warmly at us. “Crème brûlée. Should be easy for you, yes?”

Never-nevermind. This class might just be my favorite.

#alpha centauri #She was in fact watching Spirited Away #also 'arse'd' is her shorthand for arsenic

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incorrectsanders · 6 years

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What Pride Month Means to Me

I’m going to diverge from incorrect quotes for a post to share this experience with all of you since it’s pride month and that’s really important to me.

I have always been vocal about LGBTQ+ rights. I remember once in kindergarten my teacher told two boys they couldn’t hold hands and be boyfriends. We were at that age that giving kisses on the cheeks and calling each other boyfriends and girlfriends was becoming common practice. The problem was that I lived in BFN Texas with small minded people who couldn’t let children develop such *dangerous* habits. My response to her statement? I threw a mega blok at her head and screamed “THEY CAN DO WHAT THEY WANT”.

Why was my reaction so strong? Well, on record I lived with my mom, her roommate and her roommate’s son. Really, I lived with my two moms and my older brother.

Personally, I’m straight. I’ve never faced first hand discrimination for my sexuality. But, when I had two moms (they’re separated now) I watched the discrimination they faced on a daily basis. They couldn’t get married, instead they had to have a “commitment ceremony”. We got turned away from almost every house we tried to buy because no one wanted to sell or rent to gay women. They had to hide their relationship from their bosses, from their extended families. My mothers family cut her off because she came out.

I was born in California. We moved to Texas when I was three and my brother was eight. We moved back to California when I was six and he was eleven. The discrimination didn’t change much between the two areas. In fact, it might have just been because I was older and more perceptive but some things got worse.

It took us years to find a house. We finally settled on an apartment because the property manager was the sweetest woman ever and we’re still friends with her today, thirteen years later. Her children are like my babies because I’ve known them all their lives. The community was really close knit, we all knew each other and all of the kids were best friends. We used to play red rover in the park together and we’d tie together our jump ropes to make swings out of the monkey bars.

I loved that apartment complex. No one cared that me and my brother had two moms. No one pointed out that my brother was full Mexican and therefore had darker skin than me, a half Mexican. All of the kids were friends with each other. (“You guys have two moms?” “Yeah.” “Cool! I wish I had two moms, my dad snores too loud”) We were just allowed to exist.

When I was eight we managed to find a teacher who owned a house and allowed us to rent from her. She was the sweetest person ever and she loved me and my older brother to the point where she put in requests for both of us to be in her combination class when we were in 5th and 6th grade (She didn’t get us because we were in an arts program in the school that had special, designated teachers for us. Even if we had been “regular” students though, she would have had to fight with another teacher who adored us and had provided shelter for the two of us for a solid six years when kids were being mean).

The neighborhood wasn’t nearly as welcoming. There were only three families on our entire street that accepted us completely and didn’t refer to our home as “the gay house”. The rest of them pulled their kids in when me and my brother wanted to play, they glared at us if we were out in the front yard doing something as a family, and they even called the police a few times when we were having parties because we were ‘too disturbing’. (Literally all we were doing was playing Payaso de Rodeo. “Gay and Mexican? In my Good Christian Suburbs?”)

When Prop 8 was being voted on (California’s legislation on gay marriage, circa 2008, that is ridiculous please watch this AD if you have a minute https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0PgjcgqFYP4), a man that lived in the house on the end of our street smirked at me and my brother, who were peacefully riding our bikes, as he sunk a big ‘ol “Yes on 8″ sign into his lawn. Ten year old me and my fifteen year old brother snuck out of the house at eleven o’clock at night, ran down the street, and stole the sign. I said our family faced discrimination, I never said we didn’t fight back.

As for school, my brother and I were constantly referred to as the two kids with the “lesbo moms”. That is an actual expression I heard from kids my age many, many times. People constantly asked me if I was gay (“No” “But you have two moms...” “And?” “So you have to be gay!” “Says who?” “Your brother is gay!” “Okay, if your brother was gay would that make you gay?” “No!” “Well then *jazz hands sarcastically*”) I didn’t have many friends because children didn’t feel comfortable around me since they knew I had two moms. Many of the friends I did manage to make weren’t allowed to be friends with me once their parents found out that I had two moms. Kids used to laugh at me because I would ask my teachers if I could make two mothers day crafts. (I eventually cried about this to my step mother. Me and her did not get along and even now I don’t like her very much but there are a few precious moments I look back on. One of them is her hugging me, stroking my hair and telling me mothers day could be my mom’s day and fathers day could be her day)

I didn’t meet my Dad until I was nine. Two weeks after I did meet him, he dragged me to church with him and had his priest talk to me. I distinctly remember sitting in his office and playing with my little coin purse that my step mom brought me back from Guadalajara (another one of the precious moments) while the priest told me that I needed to ostracize my mom and move in with my Dad who I barely knew. If I did that and had my First Communion then I could hope that my soul would be saved.

I was nine.

(Another one of those precious moments was when I came home that day crying and my step mom wrapped me in a blanket and she told my mom that my Dad was not on my birth certificate and if I didn’t want to go back then I didn’t have to)

That tainted religion for a long time for me. It wasn’t until freshman year when I started meeting people who were vocal about both religion and social rights that I started to believe that all religious people aren’t bad.

Pride parades were always a break from the harsh reactions of others. Every year my mom and step mom would take me and my older brother and they would throw beads and candy and flags and all sorts of things at us off the floats (Condoms too, sometimes. Cue the awkward conversation between me and my brother “Bubba, what’s this?” “A BALLOON *grabs it and chucks it away*” “Nooo, I want the balloon!!”) People would get excited when they saw us as a family. I had a rainbow glass pendant that a vendor gave me because she thought I was adorable with my little rainbow flag and rainbow crocs. June makes me happy because it reminds me of all of those wonderful people who were so accepting and just wanted to have a loving space for a while.

LGBTQ+ Rights are important to me even though I’m not a part of the community. I speak up. If I hear someone being put down for any reason I speak up. All through middle school and high school I had amazing groups of friends who were largely LGBTQ+ or POC or just “outcasts” that banded together and protected each other.

I watched discrimination for years. I saw the effect that it had on my moms and as the “kids with the two moms” my brother and I felt the discrimination second hand.

Despite the distressing times and the othering my family often faced when we were still whole, I could have never asked for a better way to grow up. It made me more accepting and loving. (In 7th grade, a friend of mine came out to the school as transgender. None of us really knew what that meant. Others were rude. I simply walked up to him and asked “What does that mean?” “It means I’m a boy inside.” “Oh! Okay, do you want me to start calling you ‘he’?” “Yes, please!” “And should we still call you Dani?” “Yeah, but can you spell it with a y now?” “Okay!”)

Content like what Thomas and his friends produce makes me extremely happy. They’re not afraid to be themselves and that is lovely. No one should be afraid to be themselves.

Pride month means a lot to me, even though I myself am not part of the LGBTQ+ community. I hope everyone has a lovely one. If you read through this all, thank you. Now, back to the content you followed for!

Happy Pride, everyone.

#not incorrect quotes #pride #pride month #happy pride #thomas sanders #sanders sides

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terraisnotonfire-blog · 6 years

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Erin Chapter 1

"It's all about the four Bs" Loramir held up four fingers to demonstrate, taking a hand off the table he was supposed to be helping carry.

"What are you talking about" Volfram had been handling the load just fine by himself so he didn't really have to adjust for the shift in weight distribution. It was something he was used to, Loramir's assistance was usually more metaphorical than physical.

"The key to the success of any adventuring group is that their members meet the four Bs." By this point Loramir had taken both hands off the table and was now waking beside Volfram. "Beauty, this is me of course. Brawns, you, obviously. And then Hannah was our brains. But considering her meltdown yesterday, maybe her brains weren't all there after all."

"Loramir! She was our friend." Volfram slammed the table down, partially because he had arrived at their destination, and partially because slamming things down for emphasis was a habit of his. Unfortunately the thud was much less satisfying when hitting soft grass and dirt

"Was being the operative word. Friends do not just leave." Volfram grumbled in response. It was hard to argue that point

"Yeah, well that's only three, what's the fourth?"

Loramir sat on to the massive table, his long legs still able to dangle off the ground as he swung them playfully. "I'm still working on that one. There is some ineffable quality, I can't quite put my finger on. But both Bigsby and Firo had it. And The Alchemist had it as well."

"Is it being reckless and stupid and getting themselves killed?"

"No that doesn't start with a B. Its something else. I'll think of it."

Volfram scanned the area. They were in a clearing in the middle of a dense forest, miles from town with only themselves, a table, and hundreds of trees within sight. "Loramir, we don't have any chairs."

"Who needs chair when you have . . " Loramir paused with bated breath, fishing in his pocket as he waited for his friend to finish the sentences

Volfram breathed a heavy sigh, ". . .pocket thrones."

"POCKET THRONES!" With much gusto, Loramir threw two small pieces of metal down on the ground. He waited a few moments for Volfram to get out of the way before he shouted "THE MAGIC WORD!" Instantly, the two small objects exploded in to their full size, going from a mere inch, to nearly 8 foot tall. Or they would be if they were standing up straight, instead one had landed on its side and the other was laying face down in the dirt. Volfram righted both of the ornately decorated and uphlostered thrones, moved them closer to the table and plopped down in the one on the left. Loramir dusted off the other, fluffed up its red velvet cushioning, and draped himself across it, his back propped against one armrest, his legs dangling over the other. Loramir pulled an apple out of his robe and began polishing it on his sleeve. "And now we wait."

"Why do you insist on 'olding,er, I mean holding, tryouts in the middle of nowhere anyway?"

"Simple," Loramir replied through a mouth full of apple, "its the first test. Anyone who lacks the skills or energy to come and find us is not worth our time. Its an easy way to weed out the undesirables.

It was quiet morning on the road, which was odd for this time of year and day, only two figures could be seen, a girl and a wolf. The girl, Erin, was young, early 20s, and utterly remarkable in how unremarkable she was, with the exception of her outfit. Beneath her traveler's cloak, she wore a set of the finest leather armor that most would ever see in their life, exquisetly hand stitched and with a wolf's head embroidered on the left side of the chest. She had a recurve bow slung over her right shoulder with a quiver of arrows strapped to her back. A pair of daggers hung at her side, along with a wineskin, a couple of small pouches and little else. She turned back and whistled as she patted her leg, "Come on Princess! Come on girl." A few yards back, a lean, grey wolf's ear perked up, turned her head away from the pile of refuse that she had been sniffing in, noticed the girl calling for her, and sauntered back, panting. The warm summer sun made things rather warm in her thick fur coat.. Erin knelt down to embrace her and scratch behind her ears. "Oh good girl, gooooood girl. Who's my pretty girl?" Erin looked in to Princess's eyes, the left was a radiant golden yellow, the left was an icy blue with long eyelashes, eye shadow, and also happened to be painted on the back of a tattered eye patch that covered a series of three jagged scars. "You are! Yes you are." Princess's ears perked up and her tail wagged as her face shifted in to what could only be classified as a smile before savagely attacking Erin with her tongue. "Oh no, no licks. Oh gross, I don't know where that mouth has been. Well, I do, and it only makes it worse." Erin pushed the wolf back and ruffled the fur on her neck a couple more times before standing up and brushing herself off.

Erin took a moment to scan the horizon. The road continued forward with small cottages dotting the landscape, clustered closer and closer together the farther back they got until they reached a massive spired wall that encompassed the landlock sides of the sprawling port city of Innastorm. "Stay close, Princess. This place isn't anything like back home. Wolves running around in the street digging through trash isn't looked upon well in places like this. While we're here, you have to act like you're my pet, which means you need to be on your best behavior, okay?" The wolf's ears dropped and her face sank indicating that she understood but wasn't happy about it. "OH don't be such a grump! Come on." Erin strode toward the city, purposefully and with her head held high. Meanwhile Princess followed behind with her head hung low and her tail dragging the ground. But Erin wasn't going to let her friend's attitude problem ruin her day, her mind was on other things. After several days of traveling she was nearly there. She was almost a real deal adventurer.

Before long she found herself within the walls of Innastorm. It truly was like nothing she had ever seen. There were buildings all around her, all crammed up next to each other, with many even sharing walls. Everywhere she looked there were people, talking, walking, just doing and being. The ground was all either cobblestone or mud, not a speck of green in sight. And it just went on as far as the eye could see. "Wow this really is nothing like home. I guess we're gonna need directions if we ever hope to find out destination. Hmmm." Erin took a moment the scan the crowd milling about in front of her as well as all the adjacent peoples before her eyes settled on a dwarf running a fruit cart. "Ahh there we go," she remarked as she made her ways towards her. "Excuse me Ma'am, I would like to buy an apple, and a pomegranate if you have any."

"Ah a pomegranate, a girl of particular tastes. I take it you're not from her originally." The saleswoman pulled an apple from one of the display crates and began to polish it, eyeing the wolf warily.

"Nope, I'm from a small little farming village back a few days east of here" Noticing the saleswoman's unease at the beast beside her, she began to scratch Princess's ears, a gesture the wolf very much enjoyed it and was not shy about showing how much she enjoyed it.

"Farming village out east, huh? How'd you come across pomegranate?" The woman placed the freshly polished apple on the counter and, having seen the wolf seemed to be no cause for concern, stooped down behind the cart and began rummaging around in a few boxes behind the stall.

"Well you see, my mom actually managed to get a pomegranate tree to grow back home. Green thumb like you wouldn't believe. Dad said she once made a rose bloom in the middle of winter."

"Fascinating. It is quite uncommon for a tree like that to grow in such an environment. It must have had very rich soil to flourish in."

Erin thought of her mom, her glow and her vibrant energy. The way she tended to her cuts and scrapes when she came back from her adventures in the forest, or pretend sword fights with the other kids. She remembered the family dinners, the cold winter nights huddled together for warmth. She remembered the way she would braid her hair while humming her favorite song. She remembered her being their to listen to just anything she had on her mind. She sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye."Yeah, I'd say that's accurate."

"Ah, here we go." The shopkeep rose from the back of the stall holding aloft a not particularly pretty, but fresh and ripe fruit. The shopkeeper noticed the tears in the girls eyes. "I'm sorry this is all we have, they mostly grow in the south, and there's not a lot of demand so--" "No no, its okay, I swear everything is fine." She wiped her face on her sleeve and sniffed again, forcing a laugh. "I don't suppose you could tell me where the Angry Squid is?"

"Ah, I thought you might be the adventuring type." The dwarf decided to play along in order to ease the palpable tension. "Explains why you traveled all the way here. You're looking for the port district. Just keep heading west down the main thoroughfare you came in on, they're right on the main road, hard to miss with their sign. If you start to see a lot of sailors walking about, you're getting close. If you wind up in the ocean, you went too far.

Erin chuckled as she handed over a few coins and grabbed the fruit. "Thank you, I hope you have a splendid day, hope to see you again."

"And I as well, safe travels young one." The shopkeep smiled as she waved to the departing girl. She really did hope she would see her again. Her warmth was infectious and to see it snuffed out so young like so many other young adventurers like herself truly would be a tragedy.

It didn't take much longer before she had arrived at her destination. And the fruit woman had been right about the sign. A flashily painted 8 ft tall sign of a massive irate squid holding a helpless sailor in each tentacle was in fact very hard to miss. It would be easy to find even if you were piss drunk, which judging by the clientele loitering around the outside of the establishment, was likely a selling point. Erin swallowed the seed of fear forming in the back of her throat took a deep breath, held her head high and strode through the saloon doors.

The first thing she noticed when she walked through was the noise. All around her people were talking, and music was playing but she couldn't figure out from where. She had hoped to make more of an interest, that every one would have gotten quiet and turned to look when she walked in, but she was starting to get the idea that in a place of this size, they probably get half a dozen people like her walk in every day. The next thing she noticed was the size. It had seemed pretty big on the outside, but now that she was inside it seemed even larger, at least twice the size of the inn back home. After she took a moment to let the immensity of the place sink in, she took a moment to get the details..

It was a split level establishment with many doors lining the walls of the lower level as well as the upper balcony. On the walls of either side of the door she came through were two large boards covered with various papers. Throughout the rest of the establishment, every square inch of available wall space was dedicated to a plague or trophy commemorating one thing or another. The floor was littered with food debris of all kinds, some of it quite old, as well as the occasional broken plate or cup. Clearly this place was not concerned with cleanliness or appearances. Around the room as well as up on the balconies, were several tables of various sizes, many of them occupied. Some seated only a couple of individuals, some held upwards of ten. Every so often a group would be joined by an individual, then they would go to one of the many doors and head in. Sometimes a group would come out of one of those rooms and split up. At the center of the room was a large pillar surrounded by many shelves. Upon the shelves lay more bottles than Erin could ever hope to count.. A circular bar ran around the outside of the bass of the pillar, around which many patrons were huddled. Laying on top of the bar was a gnome of swarthy complexion and chestnut hair. He wore a white tunic with a low neckline exposing a light amount of chest hair. It was hard to gauge the age of a gnome, but the specks of grey in his hair and the light wrinkles around his eyes indicated that he was getting on in years. He lay on his side as he rested his head on his outstretched palm and took infrequent long drags from a pipe he held in his other hand. He had locked eyes on her when she had walked in and as far as she could tell he was the only one paying attention to her. He waved at her with his pipe

She took a moment to steel herself for whatever may come next and made her way to the bar. When she drew close, the man greeted her "Hello, welcome to the Angry Squid." The man spoke with an accent she couldn't quite place. My name is Sawyer, what brings you to this fine establishment? Just a drink, or something more?"

"Well, with any luck its both. Can I get a cider?" "No problem." Sawyer waved his pipe and suddenly an empty glass floated off the shelf in front of her. It drifted over and up a few shelves before stopping in front of a keg. The cork suddenly freed itself and brown liquid poured out in to the mug. After a moment, when the glass reached its capacity, the keg re-corked itself and the mug floated back down and finished its journey in front of Erin. "And the something more?" He flashed a cocksure grin.

"Huh, neat trick." The mug was of clear glass with a handle wrapped in leather. The actual glass of the mug was covered in a thin layer of frost, but the handle remained warm. She wiped some of the frost off with a finger, and within a few moment the section was covered once again in ice. She lifted the glass above her head to see a series of pale blue runes glowing on the underneath side. "Fascinating."

"Yes, its my own handiwork. Everfrost mugs.

"Never had anything this fancy back home." She took a moment to appreciate the glass after polishing off the drink and setting it down.

"Ah, small town girl. You're probably seeking the adventure boards." He gestured with his pipe towards the two large boards on either side of the door she had come through. "Based on your outfit and companion, I'm guessing you're the adventuring type, so you probably want the one on the left, its the party board. Its for people seeking additional adventuring companions, the one on the right is the quest board, its for people looking to hire adventurers for work. But a word of warning since you're new around here and I likes the cut o yer jib. I saw the guys from The Magnificent Monarchs putting up a flier this morning, stay away from them. Trust me, they are more trouble than they are worth. Everywhere they go, they bring nothing but chaos." Erin's ears perked up at the sound of her favorite word

"Magnificent Monarchs, chaos, noted. Hey could you whip me up a bit of vodka and orange juice. I've got a hunch I'm gonna need it."

"Ah yes, a screwdriver, I am familiar with it. If an ex sailor knows anything, its his liquor, especially the kind that prevents scurvy."

"Excellent." Erin slapped a few coins down on the counter and walked over to the board. All across it were papers and parchments of all descriptions. Some were individuals looking to join existing groups, other were for groups needing to fill spots. She just scanned over them, looking for the right one. Finally, she noticed it at the very top of the board, nearly ten feet up. She jumped and tried to reach for it but it was well out of her grasp. She pushed a few people out of her way, muttered a few words under her breath as something formed in her grasp and she shot her hand forwards. Suddenly a thick green vine extended forth and wrapped around the parchment, she gave it a simple tug and the vine retracted back leaving her with only the paper in her grasp.

"HEY!" the voice of the barkeep cried out behind her. "Read the sign." He pointed towards a large sign above the bar which loudly declared "THE USE OF SPELLS OR WEAPONS ON PREMISES IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED"

"Sorry, new here."

"Yeah I know, just make sure it doesn't happen again." He grumbled something under his breath about small towns and went back to minding the bar as Erin examined the flier she was now clutching.

THE MAGNIFICENT MONARCHS

Now seeking very excellent applicants

Anything less than the absolute best of the best need not apply

Today only Your first test is finding us

Good Luck

After reading over it a few times to make sure she didn't miss any additional information, she stooped down and held it in front of Princess for a few moments to allow her to sniff it thoroughly, she grabbed a tack from the bin below the board, stuck it back up in an empty spot and then headed back to the bar.

"So barkeep, what can you tell me about--

"Two guys, one of em is an elf in fancy robes, the other looks like a bear skin rug draped over a mountain. How did I know you would beeline straight for em?" The gnome slid another mug towards the woman.

"What can I say, I'm a girl who likes her chaos. And I think I'll be taking this to go." Erin pulled out her wineskin, popped the cork off and poured the contents of the mug inside.

"Well, don't say I didn't try to warn ya. And my name is Sawyer by the way, you'll be needing to know it. I'm the one you'll be coming to when they ask you to pay off their bar tabs."

Erin looked over her shoulder as she walked out the door. "Good, cause I look forward to talking to you again. My name is Erin, by the way, you'll be needing to remember it for the plaque they're gonna put up for me one day."

Sawyer smiled and waved as she left. "I look forward to that day, Erin. Safe travels. OH, and tell those two they better bring my table back in one piece."

Erin stepped a few feet outside and then knelt down to Princess "Okay girl, you remember the scent from that paper? Find it!" Immediately, the wolf took to the ground, hunkering low and sniffing the area. After a few moments, the wolf locked on to a scent and begun after it. With Erin in tow, they shortly found themselves around the back of the building with Princess barking and jumping and attempting to climb a stack of boxes resting against the back of the Saloon. "So they're up there girl? Interesting, hide right under everyone's noses. I like their style. Okay, wait here girl, I'm going up." With a hop and a scramble she sound found herself on top of the boxes and pulling herself up on to the establishment's roof, with the help of a couple of groans and strains and an encouraging yip from Princess.

Once she was up, she immediately noticed one cloaked figure on the opposite end of the roof from her, holding some object aloft. It was small, too small to be an elf. And there was no sign of a mountain wearing a bear skin rug. But whoever this was, they likely had some connection to the flyer since their scent was all over. It was worth a closer investigation. She decided to creep up closer and perhaps figure out what it was holding before making her presence known, but no sooner had she taken a single step on the roof top, the figures head snapped around causing their hood to blow back, revealing their face. He stuffed what appeared to be a spyglass in to his cloak and strode closer to Erin.

It was obvious that he was a Muridian at a glance, the fur, the whiskers, the rat-like features. Despite being from a small town nowhere near their kingdom, she still knew a thing or two about them. There was an elderly Muridian couple, the Hughes's in the town she grew up in. They were very pleasant folks who often came to her parents shop, they would sometimes share home made dishes with her family. She was rather a fan of Muridian cuisine. "Umm excuse me, are you--"

"HA! If you followed me up here that means you no doubt seek the same quarry." His voice was a deep and booming baritone, something she did not expect from his small, four foot frame. Mr and Mrs Hughes both spoke in high squeaky tones. "You're a fool if you think I would give any information to my competition." He was now close enough to get a good look. Across both his face and body, fur was missing in several patches, some forming jagged lines, others were in round or oblong splotches. It reminded her of the scars Princess wore under her eyepatch. His leather armor was similarly marred, covered in scratches, punctures, and burn marks, with a large hole in the stomach region. He wore a bandolier across his chest of various pouches, and another one as a belt. Dangling from his waist appeared to be a large wooden mallet on one side and a case of crossbow bolts on the other. A thick leather strap running perpendicular across his chest to the bandoleer and a large bulge in his cloak indicated he likely had a crossbow slung across his back to go with the bolts. He ran his fingers through the short coif of hair atop his head. "Not like I have anything to tell you. This lookout is a wash. The walls of the city are too high, I can't see over them."

"Oh that's okay, I'm just--" Erin attempted to interject but was interrupted once again

"I fear I must depart now. But I will leave you with this." He reached out his small hand in an offer to shake hers. Erin obliged. "Never wash this hand. When the whole world knows my name and my heroic deeds, this will be a treasured memory to share with all your friends." His eyes shone like sparkling emeralds as he gave her a wink, upon which he released her hand and sprinted away, leaping to and adjacent rooftop

"I DIDN'T EVEN GET YOUR NAME!" She yelled after him, but it was no use, he was lost in his own world and several buildings away at this point. She watched him for a moment until he eventually disappeared out of sight, shrugged her shoulders and climbed back down to where Princess was eagerly awaiting. "Well that was certainly interesting. Looks like we have some competition for a spot on that team. We better get a move on while the tracks are still fresh."

The pair made their way back to the front of the building as Erin reviewed what she knew. Two individuals, one of which was quite large, and carrying a table. This should mean his tracks would be quite large and deepset, if they weren't on cobblestone that is. However, thanks to her run in with the strange Muridian, she had a hunch they weren't likely to be on the streets anywhere or he would have spotted them with his spyglass. And since they took a table with them, odds are they were going somewhere they would need to bring their own furniture, so anywhere indoors was unlikely as well. Her gut told her they were somewhere outside the city. To the west was nothing but ocean, and she had come in from the East and seen no one matching their description on her way in, which meant they likely went out either the north gate or south gate. On the way in to town, she had taken note of the landscape. To the north was nothing but wide open fields, didn't seem like there would be any place secretive to set up. On the south side were several groves of trees, her best guess for where they were camped out, so she decided to head in that direction. On her way out she stopped to ask people in the streets if they had seen anyone matching their description heading out of town. Recollections were often hazy at best but most people she talked to were able to recall a large beast of a man with a table and an elf dressed too rich for this part of town heading towards the south gate.

Upon leaving the city and finding herself on the muddy road out of town, it didn't take long to find the tracks she was looking for. They were massive indeed and sunken quite far in to the ground. Even factoring the table the man was carrying, she could tell by how deep they were that the descriptions she had heard of this man's size weren't as grossly over exaggerated as she had thought. The tracks continued down the road for some distance. After about 10 minutes she came upon a broken down wagon off to the side of the road. She was focused on the tracks and not her surroundings, a rookie mistake, so she paid it no heed, or else she might have noticed the trio of bandits doing a very poor job of hiding behind it. As soon as she was within ambushing range, the three of them jumped out, brandishing spears.

"My my my, what 'ave we here?" The largest man, the one on the right spoke first."

The scrawny one on the left spoke next. "A tasty little tart, innit? What say you boys, who wants second crack at her when I'm down." The trio of ne'erdowells broke out in to raucous laughter. Suddenly, the one in the center whom she guessed to be the leader grew stone faced and leveled his spear at her.

"But seriously, this is a robbery, unless you want it to turn in to a murder, I suggest yous drop your valuables and run back to wherever it is you come from. And that includes that fancy armor you got." Princess began to growl and bare her teeth

"Whoa there! Ey Boss, what we gonna do about this mutt?" The bandit on the left lowered his spear towards the wolf.

"Looks good enough to eat. I reckon we cook it up and wolf it down." The bandit on the right laughed at his own joke

"I ain't decided yet. Oi, you. Calm your beast before I do it for you." The leader gestured towards the wolf menacingly before leveling it at Erin once again.

"Easy there, no problem. Princess!" Erin whistled loudly, her friend immediately stopped growling and turned to look at her. The girl made a series of hand signals, and the wolf sat down, seemingly calm and relaxed. "As you can see, Princess is very smart, and eating her would be a waste. I don't have much in the way of valuables, and what few possessions I do have are sentimental, but if you let me live, you can have her. I'll even teach you all the hand signals."

"Hmmm, 'at dudn't sound too bad. I reckon we gots a deal. But no funny business. Drop yer weapons first and step back."

"That sounds fair. Can't be too careful." She pulled the bow off her shoulder and tossed it on to the ground a couple of feet to her right. She took the quiver off next, tossing it haphazardly causing it to fly end over end and spill its content all across the ground. "That just leaves the daggers." She lowered her hands slowly and cautiously, sure not to make any sudden moves. "Here we. . " as soon as her hands found their grips on the handle of each blade, the corners of her mouth curled slightly upwards, "go." As soon as the last word was out of her mouth, she flung the daggers at the man pointing his spear at Princess, pegging him square in the chest and right arm. Before he hit the ground, Princess lunged at the man in the center, knocking him to the ground, pinning him as she clamped down on his throat with her fangs. While this was happening and the third man was trying to figure out what kind of violence to respond with, Erin dropped and rolled over to her bow, grabbing it and an arrow as she did so. By the time the third man looked back at her she had her aim trained squarely on his head.

"Uh uh uh. Make the wrong move and things will get a lot worse for you and your friends." She looked to the man in the center struggling to get the wolf off of him. "That includes you, I suggest you quit resisting. You keep up like that and Princess will have to bite down harder just to keep a grip, and I don't think you want that. Bleeding aint too fun, just ask your friend over there." The tall man dropped his spear and the leader quit struggling.

"She's right. This 'urts real goddamn bad. Stupid bitch." The man on the left clutched at the daggers as he writhed in pain.

"Watch your mouth or I'll let Princess have a second crack at you when I'm done." Erin walked over and kicked some dirt on to the man and spat in his face, all while keeping the bow tracked on the man still standing. "Now normally this would be the part where I get the authority's involved, but I'm kind of in a rush. So here's the offer you get instead. When I pull the daggers out of your man here, he's gonna start losing a lot more blood. If the lot of you get a move on, you should be able to get to town before he dies of blood loss. And then if I ever catch wind of any of you three pulling shit like this ever again, I aim for the heart next time. And Princess has got all of your scents so if you try anything funny, we'll literally smell you coming a mile away. Understood?"

"Ye-yeah." The leader gargled through a partially strangled throat.

"Good." Erin planted a foot on the chest of the scrawny man, and grabbed her daggers. He screamed as she gave them each a small twist each before ripping them out. Erin whistled and Princess released her grip and strode back beside her partner. "Now get out of here. And remember, no funny business."

"Yes ma'am." The two unwounded men rushed over to their comrade, picked him up, and began hauling him back to town. She watched them for a minute to make sure they weren't up to something. Once they were out of ear shot, she let out a big exhale and untensed.

"Oh my fucking god, that was intense. I can't believe that worked. I guess it is true what they say about practice. And then the way I cracked out those quips. DAMN! You'd think I'd done that before. Oh man, I need to take a minute to relax. Breathe. And pick up all these goddamn arrows. Come on Princess." Erin looked over to see Princess scowling at her. "Oh of course, you were great too. The way you acted like everything was cool right up until the moment you attacked, that was phenomenal. And you nailed the hand signals perfectly, you were amazing. . . What? I said you were great, why are you still looking at my like that. . . WHAT? Look, I wasn't lying, he should make it back to town alive. Assuming they staunch his wounds. Oh, and how is it my fault if they don't know proper wound dressing. That's basic survival. Like knowing what is bad to eat. I'm sure they'll figure it out. Or run fast enough. Maybe they'll get lucky and run in to a cleric." Erin finished picking up the last of her arrows and slung her quiver back over her shoulder and then doing the same on the opposite shoulder with her bow.

"Come on, we got places to be." Erin took off down the trail. Princess sat for a minute before huffing loudly and following after her. "Ya know Princess, if you're gonna be an adventurer, you're gonna have to get used to a little blood loss. It's kind of a big deal in this line of work. Now hurry up. It's midday, I wanna find these guys so we can eat." Princess obliged and picked up the pace. Before long the tracks left the road and in to a field. But even with out the aid of mud and dirt, the trail of trampled grass was easy enough to follow, and before long they were at a forest.

"Okay Princess, keep quiet. My instinct tells me we're close. Be on guard, who knows what's in here." Erin immediately fell in to her hunting stance, low and quiet, with bow and arrow at the ready. Princess broke off by about 15 feet and began the approach as well. The trail was easier than ever to follow, not only was the disruption to the ground cover massive, but their were also trees with freshly broken branches at 10 feet off the ground. She was starting to paint a picture as to just how gargantuan this individual was. Suddenly her attention was attracted by the sound of three scratches. Erin looked over to see Princess's ears were perked up with her gaze locked on a point in the distance. From where she stood, she couldn't make anything out in the distance, so she climbed up a nearby tree leaping from treetop to treetop trying to get closer. After about 30 feet she could hear the sound of someone humming, and just barely visible from her vantage point was a clearing in the exact direction that the sound was coming from and it just so happened to be also be the direction Princess's vision was focused. She had finally found them. Now it was time to make an entrance. She looked down to Princess and flashed a series of signals and smiled. Time to go to work.

Volfram often liked to hum as he did busy work. It was something his mother always did and it made things more pleasant. Today, the busy work was polishing his hand axes. He didn't break them out too often, preferring to rely on his constant companion, Morganna, a large double headed greataxe. The humming, while serene and relaxing to him, often had the unfortunate side effect of putting people to sleep as it had done to Loramir once again, whose head lay drooling on the table. Volgram was reflecting wistfully upon his childhood, when the noise of rustling leaves to the north caught his attention. But before he could get up to investigate he heard another sound, a branch snapping, this time to the south. He looked over to his companion to see him still sound asleep, so he shook him violently by the shoulder. "Loramir, I think we got company. And I don't like the sound of it."

Loramir rubbed his bleary eyes and blinked his way back to consciousness. "Oh, do we finally have applicants," he mumbled groggily.

"I don't think so. Coming from multiple sides, both of our flanks, might be an ambush." Volfram hissed in a whisper

"Don't you think that's a little unlikely?"

"With how many people you piss off, I'm shocked you don't think it is likely."

"Fair point. Okay then, I guess I'll take left and you take right. Honestly, you better hope half-assing this is enough, cause that's about all the ass I've got to give right now."

"Just shut up and pretend like you know how to take something seriously for once." Loramir grumbled and pulled out a pair of blades and crept forward when suddenly they both heard the sound of something scratching against wood somewhere behind them, to the East. Volfram's hand reached for Morganna as he started to make his way toward it as Loramir followed suit, when suddenly the sound of a bowstring releasing made him spin around. A woman, whom he could swear was definitely not there a minute ago, was now standing in the clearing on the other side of the table.

"Hello my name is Erin." He was confused by this, but he was also confused by the sound of an arrow releasing but no sound of an arrow impact. He noticed she was was looking way up, far above his head so he followed his gaze with hers, to see the arrow high up in the air and beginning to arc back towards the ground with a trajectory of roughly where he was standing now. He took a few steps to the side and Loramir, not knowing what was going on,but knowing to trust Volfram's judgement did the same. Moments before the arrow hit the ground, a grey blur of fur, ripped through the treeline charged across the clearing, leaped, catching the arrow in mid air, landed on the table before using the momentum to leap again in to Erin's outstretched arms. "And this is Princess, and we'd like to join your team." Princess snapped the arrow in her jaws before barking enthusiastically. Erin set her down all while cooing at her and rubbing her ears and telling her what a good girl she was.

Volfram immediately began clapping enthusiastically. "You're in."

"What? You can't just decide who gets to join on your own."

"She has a wolf, I like wolves, she's on the team."

"She hasn't even passed all the tests yet."

"Like what?"

"Well there's the applicable skills test, the trial by combat of course, then there is the talent portion."

"Well she found us, you said that was the first test, so she's already passed that."

Erin wasn't sure whether or not butting in was a good idea but she decided to do it anyway. "If it's battle experience you want, there's a trio, well, maybe a duo, of bandits back in Innastorm who can tell you all about my combat prowess. As for applicable skills, I am a master of tracking and survival skills. I have spent considerable time in the wilds with little to no tools on hand, and as you can see I pack light. Plus I can do neat things with vines, see?" She lunged her hand forward and a whip shot out and lashed around a table sitting on the table, and with a flick she pulled it back to her and took a bite. "Oh gross, its all mealy"

"Yeah, it's not very good. That is why I did not finish it and it was just sitting there."

"See Loramir, she's passed all the tests, and plus that intro was rad. She's in."

"Well what about the evening wear?"

Erin tossed back her cloak and struck a power pose. "What you've got a problem with my armor?"

"No actually. It's honestly quite lovely. But there is still the personality quiz."

"She likes wolves. Anyone who likes wolves is good people. She's in."

"Ugh fine, but--"

Suddenly the sound of hissing began to fill the clearing. Smoke began to pour out of the ground and fill the clearing. Erin raised her cloak to shield her mouth from the fumes as she tried to fan them away with her other hand. Loramir and Volfram did the same. After a moment, when the clearing was so full of smoke that no one could see anyone or anything else, a loud baritone voice rang out.

"When men tell tales of the awesome might of the hero who struck down the Demon Bull of Gorgos with a mighty hammer blow while impaled upon its horn, it is I of whom they speak. When women gossip of the great warrior who impaled the black heart of Dread Lord Viscont, it my name upon their lips. When children dream of growing up to be as brave as the one who climbed in to the fearsome maw of the massive Corpse Lion of Panzor to remove the gem giving it life, it is my face in their minds. I have climbed insurmountable heights and crashed through impenetrable barriers, nothing on this Earth can stand in my way. Yes it is I, Jess, the Mighty!" Just as his monologue finished, the smoke cleared enough for the trio to make out a scarred Muridian standing atop a pile of skulls on the opposite end of the clearing, arms crossed, red cape billowing in a nonexistent breeze.

Volfram took a moment to parse what had just happened and found it hard to reconcile the disparity between what he had heard and seen up until this point. "He's insane."

"He's batshit crazy." Lorarmir's eyes sparkled with wonder

"Yeah, I know, that's what I just said."

"You don't get it. He's our fourth B. Brains, beauty, brawn, and batshit crazy. He's perfect."

"You can't just decide he's part of the team."

"You got to pick wolf girl, so I'm picking the rat with a death wish."

"Ugh fine, but when this one dies, can we please pick a more sensible choice next time."

"Oh no buddy boy, he's not dying. Didn't you hear his speech, he's got to be goddamned invincible."

"Don't you think that maybe he might be lying"

Loramir recoiled in mock indignation. "Oh come now sir, don't be ridiculous. Just look at the bones. Look at the scars." He gestured frantically towards the small figure, still poised dramatically atop his pile of skulls, but looking more and more nervous and anxious by the second.

"Anyone can collect skulls. Poets and doctors collect skulls. And those scars could come from anywhere. And what about the tests?"

"Well we don't need to worry about the trial by combat. Obviously. So let's see, practical skills." Loramir turned to face the still posed Muridian. "Hey you, skull boy. How did you find us?"

Jess relaxed and climbed down from his skull mound. "Oh that was easy. I just snuck up one of the guard towers and from there I was able to spot the clearing and the glint of your friend's axes as he polished them. I figured it was as likely a spot as any so I came here."

Loramir turned back to "See, sneaking and spying, that's two things. You know how many times a lookout would have saved our asses. And you know how much I want a sneaking around partner."

Volfram sighed, "Well what about the new girl. She got the drop on us."

"Well you and I both know that's hardly a noteworthy feat. But sneaking past the town guard and climbing a watchtower in broad daylight, that takes skill."

"Fine, but you're paying for the funeral."

"Deal."

Jess, who had stayed quiet for most of this spoke up nervously, "You know I can hear you guys right. I have no intentions of dying."

"Yeah, yeah no one does but it tends to happen regardless. Well Loramir, if he's our batshit, I guess that makes Erin our brains. What say you woman, think you can handle it?"

Erin grinned smugly. "Yeah, I think I can handle it."

Journal Day 1

I can't believe it! I just made it to Innastorm and I'm already an adventurer with a real party and everything. People back home said I'd never cut it but I really did it. It was a crazy day. I met a strange Muridian named Jess who claims to be a great hero. Time will tell if any of his claims hold up. I have my doubts, but I will say one thing, he sure knows how to entertain a room. Three drinks in and he had the whole bar wrapped up in his stories of adventure, conquest, and derring do. I might trust him as far as I can throw him, which is probably farther than most to be fair, but he can sure spin a yarn, I'll tell you that much. Hell I even felt a little inspired. Inspired enough to drink Loramir under the table. That's the name of one of the guys I joined. He's an ass and an elf, in that order. But not like the bad kind of ass, just the 'roll your eyes' kind. The other guy is named Volfram. He's really big and scary looking, but he's not so bad. Doesn't talk a lot. Or at least, he doesn't talk to me a lot. Not yet at least. I'll crack that egg. But that's all for tonight. Tomorrow we're gonna take on our first quest. I'm really excited.

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women-are-visual · 7 years

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My Broken Things

It’s a cool night in early October. On my way to the grocery store, I drive past the daycare center at the bottom of my hill. It’s in a Craftsman house that’s been decorated for Halloween. Paper ghosts are taped to the front window and orange lights are strung around the little tree in the yard. The lights glow warmly in the dark and would be very pretty, but whoever put them up did a terrible job, they are not strung neatly around the branches in a spiral, they have simply been thrown onto the tree and they zigzag along the front in a random z-shape and dangle off a branch near the trunk. I feel annoyed looking at them, hardly anyone in my Oakland, California neighborhood is friendly, no one decorates for the holidays, and these people don’t seem to care either.

So after I’ve gotten my groceries, on my way back home, I do a u-turn and park in front of the house, determined to fix the lights. It must be the middle aged woman in me who is so used to caring for my own home that now I want to care for my entire neighborhood. And it comforts me to make order and beauty, especially at this time in my life when I feel so powerless and alone. The tree is taller than I expected and even standing on the porch steps I can’t reach the lights on the top branches, but I arrange the ones on the lower branches, so that they are in a neat s-shape and don’t hang off at the bottom. I step back on the sidewalk to admire my work, but I don’t look behind me and the side of my right foot rolls off of a curb that slopes downward, so that all of my weight shifts onto the side of my foot. I hear a snap and I shout and fall sideways, into the street.

For a moment, I just lie there. The gravel is rough on my cheek and I feel a surge of anxiety, afraid of the pain that’s certain to come. Why did this happen to me, when it can’t happen? I would normally feel embarrassed or fearful lying there, immobilized in public, but at this time of night the houses are dark and quiet and there’s no one around. I only hear the rhythmic sound of crickets chirping. I have scraped my palms and my right foot hurts, but it doesn’t hurt that badly. Maybe the sound I heard is just like a knuckle cracking, it’s probably nothing. I’m tough and this can’t happen to me right now, so I conclude that it must not have. I get up and brush the gravel off of my pants, but when I step down on my right foot, it hurts. Maybe it’s just a sprain. I keep walking, limping and wincing. I drive home and carry two bags of groceries up the stairs to my apartment on the second floor. I go inside and put the groceries down in the kitchen and sit at my computer desk, still waiting for the wave of pain to come.

“I might have hurt my foot,” I tell Scott.

“What happened?” he says.

My boyfriend is sitting next to me in his recliner with his laptop on a pillow in his lap. He’s 46 years old, an IT consultant, futurist, and sci-fi writer. He’s tall and slim, dark and handsome, but for the past few months, he has not been the same caring, loving partner I’ve had for twenty years. He’s aloof now. “You’re a burden,” he says. “I’m sick of caring for your emotions. I’m having a midlife crisis, it’s some sort of breakdown, you have to take care of me now. I cared for you during your breakdowns and you owe me.”

I take off my tan boat shoe and gray sock. There’s a raised area on the side of my right foot which is slightly purple. I run my finger over it and feel a bump. I take off my other shoe and feel the side of my left foot to compare. No bump there. I search on articles about how to tell if you have a broken foot. Two of the biggest signs are a snapping sound and pain when you stand on it. Oh shit. I call a Kaiser advice nurse. “Keep it elevated and iced for twenty minutes at a time. I’m making an appointment for you to get an x-ray and be seen in podiatry tomorrow. By the way, did you get the Halloween lights up?” she says. I laugh and tell her yes.

The next morning, Scott tells me that I moaned in my sleep. I know why. It’s because I dreamed about being sick and trapped with someone who doesn’t care about me anymore.

I’m still hopeful that I just have a sprain, but at the hospital, the doctor shows me two cracks on the x-ray. “You broke the long bone on the outside of your foot in two places,” she says. “That area gets very little blood flow and is notoriously hard to heal. You’ll have to be in a cast for two months.”

In the cast room, the news hits me and I start crying. I’ve just been through Scott’s affair for five months and now two months of this. I’m sitting with my legs hanging off the side of a hospital bed. A middle aged Filipino man kneels below me and wraps my foot and calf in cotton padding and blue ace bandages dipped in a warm fiberglass liquid. “Keep your foot at a right angle, otherwise it won’t heal right, relax.” He’s very skilled at and proud of his work. The end result is an old fashioned, rock hard cast that covers my foot and goes to my knee. All I can think of is how I will be stuck at home while my boyfriend goes clubbing. And the punk rock feminist in me wants to drink and smoke and fuck the pain away.

I go home and cry all night.

The next day I decide that I’m going to get through this. I read articles on how to heal my bones faster. I can’t smoke. I’ve been smoking during Scott’s affair, but I will quit now because otherwise it will take 65% longer for my bones to heal.

I watch videos on how to use crutches properly. A middle aged woman has made one, “8 Weeks on Crutches,” that shows her going around the grocery store and on nature walks. She says you have to get out every day or you’ll get depressed.

Scott modifies the apartment so that it’s easier for me to move around. He rolls up the area rugs in the living and dining room and I use my office chair as a wheelchair. I use a sippy cup with a lid for my tea. Scott puts a hose on the shower head and buys me a bath bench, a knee scooter, and a wheelchair. He’s already back into caregiver mode, but I’m nervous about it, because he’s unhappy with that role, and I don’t blame him.

The couch is an island, covered with pillows, books, my laptop and iPad, a stool for tea and an ottoman. I lie there with my leg elevated. I look around the living room and notice everything cruddy, dusty, and out of place, but I can’t do much about it.

Finally, I can’t take it anymore. I stand up on my crutches and try to move a ceramic jack-o-lantern to the center of the dining room table, but I lose my balance and fall backwards onto my hip. I have managed to not put my weight on my bad foot, but I have landed on my side and I lie there for a moment in pain. It’s okay, I haven’t broken anything else, but I’m scared now. It’s so hard to balance on one leg. It takes an incredible amount of strength. I vow to never forget how wonderful it is to have two feet again.

The worst part of my day is the nighttime, when I’m lying in bed with my leg propped up on pillows. My foot throbs. I switch positions over and over again, rearrange the pillows, turn on my left side and then my right, but nothing helps. I lie there in the dark and start to panic. My foot’s being held at a right angle, which is not a natural position. My calf muscle tenses and flutters. I feel claustrophobic. I want to scream and cut the cast off, but I just turn on the bedside light, take deep breaths, and exercise my bandaged leg and foot. I point and flex my toes and stretch my leg toward the ceiling and bend my knee and do leg lifts. I’ve read that it’s best to keep the parts of your body surrounding the cast mobile. Finally I take three ibuprofen and the pain subsides.

In the morning, Scott gets me tea and picks up the house. “Did I call you a burden?” he says. “I forgot how much work it is to pick up the house. It’s an enormous amount of work. I’m never going to call you a burden again.”

October 17, 2017

#broken foot #cast #crutches #wheelchair #midlife crisis

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bricousland · 7 years

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Chapter 8: For One Day Soon

Chapter Seven Chapter Six Chapter Five Chapter Four Chapter Three Chapter Two Chapter One AO3

Nanami felt soft green grass beneath her and a hot sun above her. The smell of flowers, tree sap, and elfroot filled her nose. She was surrounded by dense, living forest. She could hear birds and a young halla baying for it’s mother not too far away. She hadn’t seen so much green since she’d ventured into the Emerald Graves. It was like being home again; she took a deep breath and let the warmth of the sun prickle across her skin.

She felt lighter and realized she was without her armor. In a moment of panic she pulled on the power of the fade, but she stopped as someone she hadn’t noticed before stood up from under a nearby tree. The familiar face marching towards her dissolved her panic and replaced it with rage.

“What were you thinking?!” Solas’s voice boomed in her ears. He knelt down to her level and grabbed her shoulders, “Jumping physically back into the Fade, and for what? A dead man? It was foolish, you could have been killed!”

“You haven’t been around. You don’t get to weigh-in.” She pushed his hands away and stood up, she was tired of seeing his face. Nanami looked around the forested area and saw no sign of her friends. “Where are we, demon?”

Solas looked aghast, “I’m not a demon, you’re safe here.”

She tried to think herself out of the vision only to find that her mind was clear, like when she and Solas used to meet in her dreams. It didn’t ease her anger, however, if anything it fanned the flames. “How did you know where I was?”

“Spirits, Veh’nan, you were easy to find.” Solas sighed, “You know you don’t owe the Warden anything; Why put yourself at such risk for a woman half out of her mind with Blight?”

The familiar endearment smoothed the rough edges of her anger. “You said, “Veh’nan”? So, you still...?”

He was hesitant; Solas looked down and straightened his sleeve, keeping his attention off of her, “Of course… but Nanami --” She closed the distance between them and kissed him. She had been through too much to allow him to be dismissive. No matter how deep in the Fade they were, Solas was as real to her here as he had been in the warm confines of his study. He felt solid and safe, his arms didn’t encircle her, and his lips returned her kiss half heartedly.

Nanami stepped away from him but he pulled her chin up and his lips pressed against hers in a more attentive kiss. The moment was brief and he released her before he lost himself.

“This isn’t why I came.” He took a few steps away from her to put some distance between them. His hands busied themselves with tugging at the edges of worn cotton sleeves.

“Then why did you?”

“I couldn’t watch you die.”

“Then, you should come back to Skyhold. It will be much easier to protect me there.”

He shook his head, “It’s not that easy.” His eyes avoided hers again, they looked down at the ground or through the dense thicket of trees.

“It can be.”

Solas laughed, short and shallow. “Because you are the Inquisitor?”

“Yes, because I am the Inquisitor! Solas, I’m not going to wait for answers any longer. Why can’t you trust me?”

“It has nothing to do with trust.”

“Trust has everything to do with it, Solas. Whatever trouble you think you’re in or whatever you think you need to do alone, I can help, I can--”

He took her hands in his. “Listen to me.” His voice was soft and thoughtful; while his eyes were weary and pained, “What we had was real. For a while, we traveled the same road, towards the same goals and perhaps it could have stayed that way had things turned out differently. But, they didn’t. Our paths are taking us in different directions and we must walk them. But you needn’t do it alone.” He touched her cheek and ran his thumb across it to catch a tear. “Some love stories are better as short stories, my love.” He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek and whispered in her ear. “It’s time for you to wake up. Goodbye.”

“Solas!” she tried to reach for him but already, the quiet forest was disintegrating around her and Solas was gone.

~ ~ ~

Briana woke up on a straw mattress with Nanami still fast asleep beside her. Her chest, neck, and shoulders were wrapped tight with cotton bandages. Standing at her bedside was a young boy with round yellow eyes. He had a wet cloth in his hands and smiled.“Mother will be pleased.” His voice was flat and lacked the emotion that usually accompanied ten year old boys.

A demon...

Briana sat up in her bed. The pain in her chest shot through every nerve in her body. She grabbed the little boy by his cotton shirt and reached for her axe. When it wasn’t where she was expecting it, she fumbled and fell out of bed hitting the hardwood floor like a heavy stack of potatoes. She yelped while the boy wrested out of her grip.

“Mother!” he cried, flinging the front door open and disappearing from Briana’s sight.

Briana stayed on the floor and stared at the ceiling. The blankets were twisted around her, and her feet were still propped above her on the edge of the bed. Briana was satisfied (by the pain and embarrassment) that she was, in fact, out of the Fade. She peeked under the bandage around her chest and saw a thick, red scar that was still stitching itself together.

Magic made dying complicated.

She had been stabbed through the chest and still managed to live. Who does that? Not Andraste, or Maferath...or Alistair. Just her, maybe she could find a dragon to fight with her bare hands and test the Maker’s resolve to keep her alive. After the initial anger quelled, the realization that she was alone made her listless, her mind was blank, and her eyes set on the wooden beams above her.

The rusty front door opened and swung shut.

“Well, well, the Hero of Ferelden, awake at last and with such grace .”

Fuck me, this is where it all comes full circle.

Morrigan stood over Briana with her arms crossed and brows raised. “I always said Alistair t’was the idiot but sometimes you make me think I was incorrect.”

“Not now, Morrigan.” Briana made no real attempt to untangle herself from the bed sheets.

“Ah yes, I’ve obviously interrupted something very important. Are you going to get up?”

“Nope.”

“Stop acting like a child and get up.” Morrigan snorted “I would have let you die, if I knew that’s what you wanted. You’re the ones who came through my eluvian.”

“Next time wake me up before you decide whether I should live or die. I’m getting tired of you, your mother, and the bloody Maker making that decision for me.”

“You would have survived even without my help, that wound on your chest should have killed you, but it was healing before I even touched it. Someone isn’t ready for you to die yet, Briana Cousland, so you could at least do them the courtesy of living. Get up; the rest are outside eating supper and you will do the same.”

Maker why?

Briana pushed herself to her feet, this time she moved carefully, using the side of the bed for support. She brushed her fingers through her curls and looked around the hut, “So, that was your son?”

“His name is Kieran.”

“Did Alistair meet him?”

“Briefly. Kieran doesn’t know anything about his father, as promised, and I kept him well away. Though I can’t say Alistair made that easy. Fool.”

Briana walked over to the fire and held her hands up to the flame. She felt cold to the core and the humidity that blew in from the windows was ice on her skin. She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm herself but Urthemiel’s quiet song seeped into her and pulled the heat away. “Thank you.”

Morrigan pulled the blankets back over Nanami who still lay unconscious. “For what?”

“For giving us time. I didn’t realize what you were offering. I was so convinced you had betrayed me; I didn’t even stop to think about another explanation. I did so little with the time I had; Alistair begged to come with me but, no, per-usual I had to put the world before us. I only seem to care when I risk losing him.”

“Why do you think that idiot cared for you so much? Because he could count on you to make the tough choices. Sentimentality doesn’t suit you, Briana-- even in your old age.” She tucked the blankets around Nanami and walked towards the fire, she came up behind her friend and dug a finger into Briana’s bare flesh. It was black, purple, and bruised.. It disappeared beneath the bandages and was about the size of Flemeth’s grimoire. “When did this begin?”

“Sometime after Alistair and I separated.”

“What do you plan to do about it?”

“Put a sword through my belly, eventually.”

“You’re pathetic, this isn’t the Hero of Ferelden who was ready to do what it took to end the Blight.” Morrigan started towards the door.“Go eat, Alistair isn’t the only person who cares about what happens to you. The Dragon Age isn’t the age to mourn someone’s passing. Too many people have been lost, death is apart of everyone’s life. Keep him with you but remember who you are. Things are not going to get better.”

Briana didn’t respond. She walked away from the fire, grabbed a clean linen shirt and pulled it over her head. She went into the frigid Ferelden air with Morrigan. There was a larger, warmer fire lit in the yard. It chased away the damp cold and left the air smelling of smoke with a hint of fresh swamp. The stars were bright and clear in the sky. Flemeth's hut had gone untouched by the Blight that surrounded it, on the other side of a small stream at the front of the cottage, Briana could see dead grass and blighted trees. The perimeter of the cottage, however, looked exactly like it had the day she had left it after (presumably) killing Morrigan’s mother.

Cullen and Sera sat together on a bench with their faces half stuffed with stew. When they saw her, Cullen tried to regain some dignity: wiping stew from the scruff of his ungroomed face and sitting a little straighter. Meanwhile Sera shoveled more food down her throat, more than happy to stay in gravy-faced bliss.

Briana looked between the two of them, unsure wether to laugh or cry, “How did we end up here?”

Cullen set his bowl aside “When the Nightmare reappeared, another spirit showed up in the form of a wolf and defended us. I don’t remember anything after that. Not saving you, or Nanami, or going through an Eluvian, as Morrigan claims we did.”

“What about Alistair? What happened to him?”

“Well, that’s even a bigger mystery, but one I’m sure you’ll be pleased by.” Cullen motioned for her to turn around.

She turned and her heart stopped. He stood there, his clothes too loose for his skeletal frame; his hair too long and frazzled around his square, bearded face but those eyes. She’d never mistake them, not in a million years. “Maker preserve me.”

“He hasn’t done anything but ask for ya.” Sera said through mouthfuls of food, “An’ give Morrigan these sideways looks but she said tha’s normal.”

Briana threw herself into Alistair’s arms. He hugged her tight. Regardless of how skinny or weak he was it was the safest she’d felt in years. His lips pressed against the top of her head and his fingers ran through her hair. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and just held him..

Alistair chuckled, “You’re going to break me.”

“You were dead.” She looked at him, touched his face, traced his cheek bone down to his chin.

“Me, dead? Perish the thought.” His hand rested on the back of her head, “Come here.” He pulled her face close to his and kissed her. He was warm and solid, the same as she remembered. All of her worries were gone. Anything that had been plaguing her before the kiss simply vanished. Even Urthemiel couldn’t rear his ugly head. Not when Alistair was so close and alive. So very much alive.

Alistair ran his hand through her hair and looked over every inch of her face. His eyes lingered on the top of her head and his brows came together as he touched the area where her rose usually sat. “Briana,” his voice was distressed, “Where’s your rose? You’re never without it.”

Briana felt his entire body tense, she reached a hand up to fluff his hair and soothe him but he was fixated on her rose. She tried to find eyes as she explained,“It shattered while we were in the Fade.”

“Wynne put a protection spell on it.” Alistair was curt and sild his hand out of her hair, “It wouldn’t just break.” He looked at everyone around him like they were part of the scenery and no longer people. “We’ve been through worse bloody battles and it’s always survived.” Alistair pulled out of Briana’s embrace.

“It was more than that.”

“I was free.” His eyes turned away from her and flickered from face to face, becoming more and more distant.

“Al” Briana reached for his hand.

“Briana, get away from him.” Morrigan warned.

“Not again, I won’t let you taint my memory of her anymore.” His voice was soft and shaking; tears touched the corners of his eyes. Briana ignored Morrigan’s warning; Alistair lunged at her when her fingertips touched his hands. Faster than her eyes could follow, his hands wrapped around her neck and squeezed.

Alistair looked through her, seeing a demon no one else could. Briana tried to pry his hands from her neck but the lack of air to her lungs, coupled with her injuries, weakened her. She thrust her hands against his chest and with a hard shove, she pushed him away from her and took a few stunned steps back. Before he could reach her again, Cullen was on him and restrained Alistair by the arms. He screamed,and cursed, and yelled, lost in whatever nightmare he conjured for himself.

Briana tried to go to him but Sera pulled her away. Alistair struggled in Cullen’s grasp. He screamed through heavy tears, calling Briana a demon, an illusion, spawn of the darkest depths of the Fade. He kicked and flailed like a child throwing a tantrum and though he was lithe and light, Cullen clearly struggled to hold him back and he kept shouting “I was free. I was free. I was free.”

Just as Alistair deteriorated from violence into sobs, Morrigan waved a hand in front of his face; magic slid up his nose and Alistair’s whole body froze before he collapsed into sound sleep.

“Alistair believes he’s still in the Fade.” Cullen’s voice was muffled behind the blood that pulsed in Briana’s ears. “I suffered the same after the uprising in Ferelden’s Circle. He was fine until he decided something wasn’t right in his world.”

Morrigan nodded, “Take him inside and tie him to the wooden chair near the fire. He won’t be waking up anytime soon but when he does I don’t want another fight.” Cullen nodded and carried Alistair inside while Morrigan turned her attention to Briana. She began to examine the bruises already forming on her neck.

Briana ran her hands through her hair, expecting to feel the velvety petals but instead felt nothing but dry brown hair.

Morrigan sighed, “Well if that’s all,‘tis simple enough to fix. Temporarily, at least.” Morrigan kneeled and pressed her hands into the soil. Magic penetrated the ground and slowly, fresh green vines rose up. Morrigan pushed more magic into the plant until a single red rose blossomed. Morrigan picked it and wove a quick spell around it before handing it to Briana. “This should help but you need to be careful. If the absence of your rose can set him off, who knows what else may. Don’t be alone with him.”

Briana took the rose and tucked it into her hair. She felt the soft red petals beneath her touch and twirled it between her fingers until it sat just right. “Can you erase the memories?”

Morrigan paused and shook her head, “No, the magic involved and the unintended consequences would be worse than its benefits. I will send you with sleeping potions and sedatives. Tis the best I can do. I’m sure the Inquisitor can put him to sleep if it must come to that.”

“Briana, he can recover. I went through something similar after you left the circle.” Cullen said as he stepped out of the hut, closing the door gently behind him. “With time and patience, he will feel the world become solid again. He’ll eventually begin to trust what he smells and feels. I worked through it and he can too. It will never go away though, Briana. The nightmares are continuous and it’s something the two of you will have to learn to live with. However, I have complete faith you’ll pull him out of the worst of it. Much faster and more whole than I could on my own.”

“You should stay at Skyhold with us.” Sera said as she skipped back over to the warm fire, sat down in a chair, and rubbed her hands together. “Until he’s better yeah? You’ll have everything you need there. I’m sure Quizzy wouldn’t mind and I know Bull and I’d like to watch you knock Cullen on his ass a few more times!”

“Thank you Sera but, I don’t want him paraded around in front of Orlesian and Ferelden nobility. It wouldn’t be safe for him to be seen there like this. We’ll go home.”

“You can’t bring ‘im back to the Wardens acting all Blighty.”

“I never said I would.” She had no desire to return to living under the thumb of the Wardens. Sera was right, with Alistair in this condition they may believe he had Blight sickness. They’d eventually find hers too and she’d be thrust into the Deep Roads like the unwanted problem she’d become, or worse.

Then there was, Skyhold. There she’d have Lilly and the entire Inquisition at her beck and call, but she had no desire to expose Alistair to people that still petitioned him to overthrow Queen Anora. She knew she could trust her allies but had no desire to trust the rest of the Inquisition.

Betrayal came cheap.

They needed somewhere safe, and warm, and surrounded by the people who loved her and not just her title. When she thought about it, Briana smiled “Highever, I think we’ll visit my brother in Highever.”

#dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #briana cousland #alistair theirin #the dawn will come #commander cullen #cullen x inquisitor #solas x lavellan #Nanami Lavellan #Cousland #alistair x warden #dragon age

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starlightchild6 · 7 years

Text

Eclipse (Part 8 of ??)

And the words just keep coming! Up to 8 parts so far and no sign of stopping yet. This one was fun to write. Made me feel a bit mischevious, bwahaha! Enjoy!

Missed a part? You can catch up here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

It took a little time to get used to having someone else in the house full-time, but adapting was easier than I expected. It became the norm to come home and see half-finished essays on the kitchen table, or find her shoes kicked off at the door, right in place for me to almost stumble on as I walk in.

I keep meaning to talk to her about that. Preferably before I break a bone.

Annoying habits aside, it’s nice to have her there. Makes the house not feel as empty when I come home at night. And she’s safe. I don’t have to worry about her being seriously hurt anymore. It is different, coming home nightly rather than taking out of town jobs and being gone for days at a time. But it’s a good different.

Of course, the rest of the crew has noticed the change as well, and can’t resist teasing me about it.

“Richards! What’s the rush?” One of the guys yells as I hurry to clean up after a long day of work. “Got a hot date tonight?” He wiggles his eyebrows, making the rest of the group hoot and holler.

I just roll my eyes and finish stashing my tools away before heading to leave. My phone chirps at me as soon as I climb in the truck. I check it to see a text from Starlight.

Already home. No work today. Katie dropped me off.

Well, that’ll cut some time off the trip, I suppose. Time to crank up the radio and hit the highway.

I see her sprawled on the porch as soon as I pull into the drive. She’s intently scribbling away on something, bare feet kicked up behind her as usual. That girl would stay barefoot if she could, I swear.

“Hey, babe. Whatcha working on?” I ask, coming to sit beside her and peeking at her notebook. She’s drawn doodles and written notes all over the page in a haphazard system that hopefully makes sense to her at least.

“Prom plans.” She sighs. “Katie’s head of the committee, which means we’re all roped in to help.”

“Of course.” I chuckle. “What’s she assigned you?”

“Decorations. She’s got me drawing out designs for the photo backdrop.” The notebook is passed to me. “Thoughts?”

I study the page. She’s drawn three different setups, all containing some sort of forest scene. Arches, columns, she’s really taken to this. I need to remember to thank Katie for making her do this. Getting Starlight to share anything she draws is like pulling teeth some days. For her to just pass me the notebook is a rare occasion.

“The theme is Enchanted Night, I’m assuming?” I point to the overall title at the top of the page, and she nods. “I like this one the best.” I indicate the one at the bottom of the page, an archway covered in what looks to be ivy, with a bench lightly sketched in front and a night sky backdrop hinted at to complete the image.

She takes the notebook back and trails a finger over her sketch. “Really? It doesn’t seem too cheesy or stupid?” She bites her lip. “Really. I think it’s perfect for the theme.” She grins.

“Good, ‘cause that’s the cheapest option too. We’re raiding the theater department for their props.” She laughs. “More money we can save there, the more money we have in case other areas go over.”

“Since when does the theater department have this much greenery to use?” I raise one eyebrow, fully aware of the prop department shortages. Spend enough time working on lights, and you start to see the same props repeat themselves over and over again.

“Since we did A Midsummer’s Night Dream last year. Needed the extra greenery to create a realistic forest scene.” She explains. “We were able to score a lot of it on clearance so that helped.”

I stretch, reclining back on my palms. “Makes sense. Man, senior prom. Kinda half sad I missed mine. You guys planning anything special for the night?”

She shrugs. “Katie was talking about everyone chipping in to rent a limo for the night. I think everyone’s planning to go as one big group, no matter who couples off.” She’s picking at her nails.

“What about you? Anyone special you have your eye on? I need to make sure he’s up to standards.” I wink at her, but she shakes her head.

“I actually don’t think I’m going to go.” She keeps her head down. “I’m the only one who doesn’t have a date in our group. Even Ben manned up and asked that girl he was crushing on. I’ll just stay home and play video games or watch a movie.”

“You didn’t go last year either.” I point out. “Well, you were sick so you had a good excuse, but still.” I pause as I realize something. “You weren’t sick, were you?”

She shakes her head. “The dress would have shown bruises, so I didn’t go.”

I swear, one day I will make that fucker pay for all the shit he’s put Starlight through.

“Well, then you just have to go this year. I’ll even pull the monkey suit out and escort you, if you’d like?” I offer. “As friends. Not as.. anything else.” I hurry to explain before she can say anything.

Another head shake. “You can’t. Prom is the same weekend as your work conference. You’ll be out of town.” Damn it. “Don’t worry about it, it’ll be fine. Not really my scene anyway.” She tries to reassure me, but when she can’t muster up a smile, I know she’s faking it.

“You know you’ve never been able to lie to me, babe.” I scoot closer, laying down next to her. “Talk to me?”

She sighs. “It’s kind of sad. Not going to my own prom. I think I’m the only girl in homeroom that doesn’t have a date. Makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me.” She pillows her head on her folded hands, turned away from me.

“Hey…” I poke her shoulder. “Look at me.” She turns to peek out at me from beneath her curls. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Any guy would be lucky to have you. Honest truth.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes, I really do.” I lean in, resting my forehead against hers. “You’re kind, smart, funny… you like video games. What’s not to like?”

She giggles just a little. “You’re too sweet to me.”

I can’t help but grin as I watch her. She really is adorable. And her eyes… the way they light up when she laughs… makes me want to give her the moon if she wanted it.

Her phone chirps and she turns to grab it. “Oh! I almost forgot!” She sits up and frantically starts gathering all her stuff back together.

“What’s the rush?” I help her gather pencils.

“Lunar eclipse tonight. Wanna come watch it with me?”

“Sure.” I take her stuff and set it inside real quick. By the time I come back out, she’s already halfway across the yard towards the hammock I keep set up for her.

“You comin’?” She grins, turning back to find me. Wow… she really is beautiful underneath the moonlight.

I say nothing but jog over to join her in the hammock, both of us laying sideways for a better view of the eclipse. We listen to the crickets chirp as we swing lightly to and fro, watching as shadows creep over the majority of the moon’s surface.

“Amazing.” She murmurs. I can’t help but agree with her.

As the eclipse reaches its peak, I feel her curl up beside me, tucking her bare feet against my leg. “Hey! No cold feet allowed in the hammock!” I tease her, poking her in the side.

“Better than smelly feet.” She retorts back.

“Oh, them’s fighting words right there.” I drawl, before attacking where I know she’s the most ticklish.

She laughs and squirms, rolling towards the edge of the hammock in a bid to get away. I reach to pull her back, but only manage to unbalance both of us and we tumble out onto the grass, landing in a heap. Her face is inches from mine as I automatically wrap my arms around her and pull her closer.

We lay there as minutes tick by, both of us afraid to move and break the spell.

“Um…” She catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she gazes at me.

“Maybe..” I swallow heavily. “Maybe we should go inside. It has to be getting late.”

“Yeah.” She whispers. “Maybe we should.” Her eyes search mine, looking for what I have no clue, before she moves to sit up and head back to the house.

“I’m just gonna go to bed, early morning tomorrow at work.” I tell her as we reach the porch.

She nods. “‘Kay. Night, Jeremy.” she murmurs before slipping up the stairs to her room.

“Night, Starlight. Sweet dreams.”

Oh, I’m in trouble now.

#multipart

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