#he doesn’t completely get it either but it’s endearing in a slightly unsettling way

[batsybaz]

Barty. Not because he’s stronger but because he’d sabotage in a manner so unexpectedly unhinged James just freezes in shock.

Okkk so picture this- Reggie finally admitting that he and James are dating and Barty immediately challenges James to an arm wrestling (you know so James acc has to fight for Regulus) and James acctually accepts so I guess

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

an angel on my shoulder and the devil in my heart (yandere!hawks x reader) ch3

Summary: You train a bit with Hawks and ask some serious questions.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, ns///fw-ish, more tags to be added

Note: thank you all SO much for the love and support on this fic! i’ll try to keep updates pretty regular. btw, this one is a bit longer than usual, so i hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 2 here!

This is so awkward, you think as you ride the elevator with Hawks, your back pressed against the corner. He looks at you, slightly bemused.

"Be honest," he says, pulling himself back together and giving you one of his signature smiles, "were you a fan of me before this?"

"Of course," you don't even have to think about it, "isn't every hero student a fan of yours?" His spot on the leaderboard paired with his constant publicity in magazines and news, it's hard not to find yourself interested by him. Hawks laughs, unamused.

"As if," he stares down at you, his gaze shifting over you like a machine reading a barcode, "but why do you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're the number three hero for a reason, and it's not just because of your good looks."

"You think I'm good looking?" He smirks and you wave it off, cursing the heat you feel on your face.

"You know what I mean; you've got your persona down pact. Teenage girls like you because you're pretty, teenage boys like you because of your quirk," he tilts his eyebrow at you but you avert your gaze, "the adults like you because you tell the truth, even if it hurts," you finally look him in the eye, "and anyone who says they don't like you is just afraid because you say exactly what they're thinking when they'd rather ignore it." He looks almost... shocked. He knew you were good, or at least that you had the potential to be, but he realizes now that maybe you're a bit smarter than he gave you credit for in the first place.

He takes a step forward, and another, and another until he's in your space, too close for comfort and too precise to overlook as an accident.

"You really know me, kid," he says, and you're almost tired of how many times his breath against your skin has made you shiver, "but what do you think that persona covers up?" He asks. Your breath is caught in your throat- he looks scary. His eyes are big, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, that grin of his turned into a smirk as he watches you flinch back slightly. He's intimidating, that much you're sure of, but you can't understand why a thing like that would make your stomach flip like it does or ignite a flame somewhere deep inside you, an itch you can't scratch.

Either way, you really have no idea how to respond to his question. When he's Hawks, he's straightforward but witty, charming yet provocative. You can't pin him down as one thing and he doesn't play one role more than the other. He rocks the boat, but just enough to let in a bit of water, remind the people of the ocean underneath, but why? Who is he when he isn't being a hero?

Thankfully, you don't have to answer him. The door to the elevator pings and they slide open, letting Hawks step away from you and out the door, presumably leaving behind whatever the hell that conversation was as well. You follow him wordlessly, obediently.

"This is one of the training floors in this facility," he gestures to the room around you. It's a basement leveled floor, so any light in the room comes from the overbearing white light of the LEDs above you. Two of the walls consist solely of mirrors, while the others house practice weapons, benches, and informational posters. The floors are tile, almost completely masked by padded mats. The whole room looks so pristine, you wonder if it's ever been used.

"Does anybody else even work here?" You finally ask. You've been in the building for almost a half an hour and you've only seen a single person other than Hawks. Floor after floor of office space, yet not a single desk or work station was taken by a person. Frankly, it's unsettling. Hawks just laughs.

"Of course they do, (Y/N); I just gave them the day off," his brow furrows in annoyance, like it's such a stupid question for you to ask.

"Why?" You don't bother to call out the casual use of your first name.

"Didn't want anyone getting in our way on your first day." He shrugs. "This doesn't really matter though, does it? We're wasting training time." You know Hawks is right; there's no reason for you to be upset by that- he just wanted you to have an easy first day. So why do you feel so unsettled?

Hawks sends you away to change into your hero costume, taking a seat on the bench as he waits for your return. Oh, how he'd love to accompany you, slowly slide your uniform off of your perfect body, let his hands caress your smooth skin. And your feathers- immaculate little things- soft as cotton and silky smooth, perfect for running his hands through. Of course he noticed the way it made you shake, your breath coming out in shallow puffs as you tried to stay calm. Really, you should just give in to him; he knows you must have a crush on him, what, with that speech you gave him in the elevator practically professing your love for him. 

Would you like him, he wonders, if you knew the real him? Hawks would never think the things Keigo does, would never watch you through your window or follow you home. But isn't it endearing to know how much he cares about you? Would you think so? He really just wants what's best for you, and the best thing for you is to be by his side.

This isn't really like him, though- he's never latched on to someone quite like he has with you, but you're special, he rationalizes; you're kindred spirits, his angelic pair, his soulmate. Your gold and white wings were crafted by God to carry you to him and no further. You're not Icarus, no, your wings won't melt away, but if you fly too far away from home, away from Hawks, they certainly might break. Or, at least, he'll have to break them for you.

"Hawks- uh, Mr. Hawks?" Your timid voice pulls him away from his thoughts. You're standing in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, and Hawks can't help but give you a once-over. Your hero outfit is a bit odd, in his opinion- it's more stylized than most he's seen. Your top consists of what looks like a golden breastplate, and your shoulder pads, elbow pads, and knee pads are all fashioned in the same greek armor style. Underneath your armor top is a white tunic, which moves downward towards your skirt and cuts off in the back, leaving the front a bit shorter than the rest. Your legs are protected by a chainmail pair of leggings. On the top of your head rests a golden laurel wreath, with a white wing protruding from each side. 

Cute, cute, cute, Hawks thinks to himself, a smile back on his face, my own little greek goddess.

"I'd tell you it's just Hawks, but hearing you stumble around 'mister hawks' is almost too entertaining to pass up." You have the audacity to look annoyed at him; it's hardly intimidating, "hey, if it's that upsetting, you could always call me Keigo." His smug face stares up at you from its place rested in his hands and you scoff.

"Thanks, but I like to keep the professional titles for at least a day."

He shrugs, "your loss," and stands up from his bench. "I think we should spar first, just to give me an idea of your skill." He wrings his neck and stretches out his shoulders, giving them a little shake.

"Sounds good to-" your cut off as a red feather whizzes past your face and you duck to the ground. It lodges itself neatly into the wall behind you. "Are you kidding me?"

"What? I said we're sparring." Okay, maybe it's because he's a little upset you won't call him Keigo, but he did technically give you a warning.

"That could've hit me!" You reply as you push yourself back up and into a fighting stance.

"Yeah, but it didn't," another feather shoots past you and you easily move out of the way, circling Hawks, "and do you think a villain is gonna give you a heads up? No," another, and then another feather and you barrel roll, one of them narrowly missing your face, "so now you're more prepared! You should be thanking me."

"I think you talk too much," you reply simply. You move up into a crouch and push forward, aiming to get close enough to at least get a hit on Hawks. He watches you, slightly bemused and launches another feather, this one sticking into the ground and effectively pinning your skirt, pulling you face forward into the floor with your own momentum. Two more lodge themselves into the sides of your hero suit, keeping you against the ground.

"Well I think," You can hear the smirk in his voice as he comes and nudges you with his foot, "that I just kicked your ass in three seconds.”

"Definitely not one of my best matches," you agree, and he lets up his feathers. 

My poor hero suit, you sigh as you eye the holes, big enough to fit you hand through. Only one day as an intern and you'll already need a patch job.

"I can't say I'm impressed," Hawks offers you a hand and pulls you to your feet, "but I didn't expect you to do well." He laughs at your indignant 'hey,' and continues. "C'mon, you couldn't have thought you'd win against Japan's best hero."

"I didn't know I was fighting All Might." 

"Yeah, yeah," he waves you off. "Do you only fight hand-to-hand?" You nod.

"My quirk isn't built for offense like yours is." Hawks looks you up and down, a hand on his chin as he contemplates.

"Have you considered using a support weapon?" Your eyes go wide. That's actually really smart. "I could talk to our support department about getting something together for you..." he pauses again, thinking, but exclaims, "I can get you a sword and train you; we'll be one of those dynamic duos!" He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. He wants you to be as excited as he is, wants you to at least smile for god's sake. If you've got wings on your back, his sword by your side, and his agency under your belt, there'll be no mistaking who you belong to.

"I'm not sure I'd be any good at that," you look to the ground, a stray hand coming to nervously scratch at your neck. 

"With me as your teacher? You'll be an ace," his hands don't move from their place on your shoulders and he gives them a possessive squeeze, "plus, it'll match your costume."

"...I guess I can try it, then," you comply and he beams, white teeth shining brighter than the sun. You know you'll make a fool out of yourself, you're certain of it, but the way he looks at you makes you feel like it might not matter how bad you are; he'll help you through it. You can't stop yourself from smiling back; you think you made the right decision choosing Hawks as your mentor.

You spend the rest of the afternoon practicing hand-to-hand combat, having your ass thoroughly kicked by Hawks every time. Every time you thought you might beat him, you ended up face first on the mat, Hawks sitting on your back and pinning your arm. 'I win again' he whispered, a little too close for comfort before letting go and helping you up. By the time Hawks elected that you had been beat enough, the sun was already down outside.

"Let me walk you home," Hawks holds the big glass door open for you as you exit, the lights flickering off inside and obscuring his face, "it's a gentleman's duty." You let out a chuckle.

"I don't wanna trouble you-" he raises a hand to silence you.

"It's really no trouble at all, kid," you feel like the conversation is over- Hawks has already made up his mind; he's going to walk you home.

“...alright, then,” you compromise again, following him like a dog down the road.

The streetlights illuminate the both of you as you stroll down the empty roads, your voices carrying in the silence of the night. Hawks has elected this as no-work time, so he asks you silly questions about yourself: what's your favorite color, favorite food, things like that. He seems happy to get to know you, and indulges your own questions about his interests.

He likes when you smile, he decides, as you laugh at one of his jokes. Whenever you notice him staring, you cover your mouth, but your laugh is so pretty and genuine; he can't understand why you would be embarrassed by it. Although, he can't help the twinge in his gut that wants you to save your smiles and your laugh just for him, or the anger that bubbles up when he thinks of someone else getting to see you like this, lit up by the yellow glow of the streetlights. So pretty and all his.

He says goodnight to you at the door, waving to you like he won't be outside your window for the rest of the night.

If you like my work, please consider supporting me on ko-fi!

[lennydaisy]

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead || CHAPTER TWO.

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is.  Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you,  not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

                       The Walking Dead.

      Season 1-?

                                       FEM OC! and ?

Hope you like it :)) and here is the link to CHAPTER ONE!

My home is nothing but radiant. It's a place that is constantly filled with smiles and laughter and sometimes the occasional tear, but no matter what we get through it because we are a family. It's filled with so many memories; like when Corey and I tried to make mom a cake for her birthday and ended up spending her birthday at the hospital because Corey somehow got a teaspoon stuck up her left nostril, or when I came home from school claiming to have a new pet. My mom thought it would have been a snail or a worm, like something normal, but no I was a bit of a weird kid and brought home a skunk. I don't know how I found it or how I managed to get it to rest peacefully in my school backpack all day, but what I do know is that we all had to spend a week at a motel whitest our house got deep cleaned.

I had my first heartbreak in this house, my room filling up with tears like that one scene from Alice in Wonderland, only difference was I was 6 years old and claimed I had already met the love of my life.

This house has blessed me with so many things. One of those things being a chance. A chance at a normal upbringing in a comfortable home. It also blessed me with 2 sisters at the age of 4 and the most amazing mother I could have ever asked for. At the end of the day, my home, 76 Baden Way, Mormont, is the one consistent happiness in my life.

That's why I'm confused.

The drive up the all too familiar street was oddly unsettling. It didn't feel right. To be fair I didn't grow up in a white picket community with neighbours that give you cookies every fortnight or invite you to their weekly barbecues in their freshly mowed lawns, but it wasn't a bad place. 

Was I gone for too long, it's only been a couple of days.

The houses that once stood tall, the house that once signified homeliness, now appear to be on there last leg. The once standing, chipped fences are now nonexistent, flattened into the ground. The once curtained windows, with the occasional flower pot on the window sill, are now completely bored up, no light being shown into the what I assume darkened houses.

Normally finding parking in my street is a nightmare, it's always something for somebody. Whether it be a birthday or a family get together, there is never any space for me to park my car relatively close to my own house. Of course, I complain, it's annoying, but for some reason being able to just drive straight into my own driveway is sickening to me. Where's mom's car?

My car whistles to a stop as I cut the engine. Neither I or Cora dare to move as we look upon what we once called home. The once fully in season apple tree is now snapped basically in half, rotten apples scattered around the dying grass. As for the house itself, it's not doing so hot either, the garage door is now covered with large indents in the shapes of fists, the odd splatter of blood causing bile to gather in my mouth. The usually crystal clear windows are now dust-ridden and black with ash, unable to see what's within the once homely home.

"What it like this when you left for school this morning?" I question Cora, the unsettling feeling that our home is giving me makes my voice lose all strength. 

Shaking her head timidly, "No," she replies, "Everything was normal."

'Now is as good a time as any', I thought as I reach over into the passages seat pocket, grabbing my Cloy Python. Looking my scared sister in the eye I said, "You can stay in the car if you want. I'll scoop the place out, make sure it's safe."

Shaking her head vigorously at my suggesting, gripping onto my arm, prohibiting me from leaving the car alone, "I'd feel a lot safer with you." If it wasn't for the situation I would have poked fun at her for needing her big sister but honestly, I'd feel safer with her too.

Nodding my head, I exit the car and make my way around the front of our house. With shaky legs, Cora stands as tall as she could beside me. Not knowing what we're about to walk into, I detach my baton from my belt and hand it to my timid sister. With trembling but understanding hands she clutched it tightly, white-knuckled.

Mom normal locks the door, no matter what, it's always locked. That's the first sign that somethings wrong. The front down just swung open. I keep my gun raised as I slowly step into my house, the sound of glass crunching under my combat boots, the side window had been smashed. Would explain why the doors unlocked.

"Someone else could be here, be careful, stay alert," I whisper to my sister how had barely moved an inch into our house, my baton still stuck to her right hand.

The dark wood cabinet, where all our favourite captured memories were framed, is now broken, laying on its fronts, surrounded by glass and water from the Fine China flower vase. 

Bending down to flip over one of the pictures scattered on the floor, only to be met with the smiling faces of my family. We went to the Grand Canyon a few years ago, we were all so excited but we didn't check the weather. Who knew the Grand Canyon, y'know that big dry place, had flash floods, beats me, but that didn't stop out Mom from forcing us to still have a picnic on the waterlogged grass. 'It's all part of the experience' she said. If the experience was having a cold for weeks after the trip then we nailed it. I couldn't help but smile it the silly but fond memory, but I guess with the way the world is headed moments of endearment and reminiscing don't last very long.

A subtly whistle from my sister causes me to raise to my feet slowly, turning to see her pointing quietly into the family room. Standing still for a minute or so, the loud silence is broken by the soft sound of pattering feet. Signalling for my sister to stay behind me, I stalk my way into the room. Expecting to see one of those things in our living room, I flip the safety of my revolver, taking aim. As though glued to the spot, my legs for some reason forgetting how to work as my eyes settle on a figure standing, back towards us, facing the bookshelf. Not moving like any of those things from before, or making any similar noises, I come to the conclusion that's there is a person in our house. A person I don't know.

"Stay where you are and don't move," my once shaky voice now filled nothing but authority as I order the person before us to halt. Getting the picture, the person raised their hands slowly not daring to move another inch, "Who are you and why are you in my house?" I question, my aim on the back of their head never flatters.

"Ain't no need for that now little missy" their thick Geogiran accent breaking through the tense air in the room, "what happened to a little common southern hospitality?" He asks laughing clearly not taking any of this seriously.

"You broke into my house and you expect what, a welcome party. Oh wait and I'll fetch the balloons," the sarcasm rolls of my tongue like venom. The nerve of this guy.

"Correction I didn't break-in, I was pleasantly granted access," he corrects cocking his head to the side. Even though I can't see his face I already know that's there's a shit-eating grin.

"Granted access by who?" Perks up Cora, her voice not as protruding towards the figure but her point still stands.

Seeing the man nodding his head in acknowledgement, clicking his tongue in the roof of his mouth, "ah you're the sisters. The cop and the college chick," he laughed, his hands no longer held up but instead on his knees as he leans over slightly in laughter. Not understanding what's so funny, I cock my gun causing him to shot back up to attention, any signs of joking no completely evaporated into thin air.

Turning his head slightly despite my order to not move, his stubbly side profile coming into view, half a smirk lazily dancing along his face, "I take it you're the bad cop," he attempts to joke again, but it falls short, in a situation like this, one that has my moms safety on the line, is not the time to be Mr Comedian.

"Where's my mom" I rolled my eyes at the man, asking the serious question at hand. If he as much laid a single finger on her, I swear, if he thinks I'm the bad cop now, he's got another thing coming.

"Well if that's what you wanted this whole time you should have just asked little missy," he exclaims turning round to fully face us. He's a shaggy looking man, looking to be in his early 40s. His short blond hair sitting a mess on the top of his head. He has a few scars here and there and eyes that sent an uneasy shiver down my spine. His attire, clad in an old button-down shirt and a dirty wife-beater that looks to be stained with sweat from the Atlanta heat.

I already knew he was armed, spotting the gun that was tucked tightly into the back pocket of his cargo pants. Based on looks alone I already know what type of man I'm dealing with here. A stereotypical, boorish, southern redneck. Most of these men are ticking time bombs and the fact that one has found there way into my home, the place where my mother is, doesn't sit right with me.

"Come on out now Charlotte," He called out of the broken-down door, leading to the stairs, "I think it was a bird," he mutters, kicking this right leg quickly. Looking down at the ground, aside from the broken glass and wood chips, there are also feathers. Must have been the bird he was talking about.

The sound of light feet pattering down the stairs causes my ear to twitch, almost cat-like, but I don't flatter my aim on the man, "are you sure, I thought I heard-" the voice of my mother echos through the room from behind me. Mom. As subtly as possible I attempted to flip the safety back on my gun, not want to catch the attention of the man before me, but the silence fails me yet again, the soft clicking of my gun makes the man look at me, a knowing grin on his face. Cocky bastard.

"Cora, Macy," relieves mom, as she rushes over the glittering glass, skidding with friction, pulling both of us into a bone-crushing hug, "you're okay?" She asks as she separated from us, holding us at an arms distance, looking us over for signs of injury.

"Mom, Mom! We're fine," Cora reassures our panicking mother, holding her ageing face between her hands, looking her seriously in the eye, "we're okay." 

Yeah, we might be but what about her.

My mom is a colourful woman. She always said 'the world is simply in black and white, but that doesn't mean we can't add our own colours'. Whether it is a bold pair of earrings or an eyesore of a scarf, she is always surrounded by colour, but not today. She clad in a shirt that appears to big for her petite frame, baggy jeans and hiking boots. No colour, just black and white, not like our mother at all. Her hair resembling that of a birds nest and her glasses sitting at a slant. She doesn't look put together.

"This is Merle," my mom waves her hand in the direction of the man whose eyes have not left mine, not so subtly looking me up and down with a look that makes me feel sick to my stomach, "He and his brother saved me from those people, brought me back here safely."

"That we did Charlotte," this Merle character near enough shouts in reply. 'What is this man so damn loud for?', "Just a bit of Southern hospitality. Something your daughter here could learn about," he says clearly not liking the fact that I still have my gun pointed in his direction.

"Macy put the gun down," the stern voice of my mother caused me to holster my gun against my thigh, but I refuse to let my guard down. I don't trust this Merle, whether he saved my mom or not, something just doesn't sit right with me.

"That's more like it girly," he says sounding assertive as if he has just won. It pretty clear that the man has some military experience. I can feel it in the air. The way he thinks he can control the room and the people in it, "My baby brother should be back soon, but I say we meet him halfway."

Is this some kind of joke?

"Look thanks for help our mom," I eventually cave into thanking the man, "But no way in hell are we going anywhere with you."

"Now I think your mommy over there would disagree with that?"

I turn to look at my mother who has a reluctant look in her eye, but not at the sketchy man in our living room, but at me. Is she really thinking about leaving with this man? Everything about him screams red flags and that's not just because I'm a cop but from just general observation. This is the type of man you would not want to meet alone at night.

"He and his brother have plans to head for Fort Benning," My mom starts slowly, clearly trying to find the right words, "I thought we could go with them."

I'm already shaking my head as my mom is speaking and I can hear her breath getting quicker and quicker, panicking, "Please," she begs, her voice cracking as I notice the tears building up in her eyes, "Please Macy, I want us to be safe."

Safe.

With the way things are going, I don't know how much longer we can be safe. I’ve always seen my home as the safest place on earth. It's where I live. It's where I grew up. My whole life started here in this very house, surrounded by people that I love. I always swore to protect my family. I didn't know what I would have to protect them from but seems as though the time has come to prove this more than ever.

"Ah, now Macy, baby," Merle begins to taunt, starting to walk closer but stops when he sees my hand rest on my gun again, "What kind of daughter would you be to deny your mom of safety."

"Why don't you just stay the fuck out of this?" I snapped at the man how held his hands up in defence and walked over to our couch bending down to pick up the rifle that I failed to notice resting on the table.

"Macy," I hear Cora whisper from behind me and when I turn to look at her the look in her eye tells it all. She's scared.

She's scared.

Mom's scared.

I'm scared.

"Where's this brother of yours?" I sigh turning to face Merle who is looking out of the window, his eyes darting from left to right.

"Away hunting," he shrugs, "should be back in an hour or two, but we're losing light. I say we meet him halfway."

For some reason, my mom just agrees with this and turns to Cora, telling her to pack a bag for her and me. My mom wonders off to wait outside, but I stay put. I don't trust this man, and I sure as hell don't trust him wandering around my house where both my mom and sister are. I stand my ground and clear my throat causing merle to turn in my direction, "Try anything, and I won't hesitate to put one between your eyes."

"I'd like to see you try," he lets out a burly laugh before pushing his way past me and out of the front door.

'What have I gotten myself into?' I thought as the sound of a car door slamming shut snaps me from my own world.

Call it wishful thinking, I already knew the answers to the question that was spinning around in my head. She wasn't back, and she was never going to come back. But there was no harm in checking. Right?

Bare. Empty. Any trance of anybody living in this room had been completely erased. It's hard to believe two people I held so dearly to my heart lived here. The once painted black walls which were covered with the typical posters of any rebellious teenager are now newly painted white, hiding all the scratches or chips that were previously there. I kind of glad about the change of walls, in my opinion, once you reach the age of 30 it's maybe time to let go of your rebellion.

All that is left is a set of drawers, a double mattress on the floor with no covers and a small single mattress on the other side of the room. Moving over to the dust-ridden drawers, I pulled open the first one and to no avail, it's completely empty. What was I expecting? She's been gone for years and she was never coming back. Especially not now.

It might sound dumb but every night after she left, I would leave her bedroom light on hoping that it would encourage her to come back home. But she never did. Mom eventually got annoyed about finding me asleep outside of Ally's bedroom door every night and had to have a word with me. Sure I stopped leaving a light on for her, but that didn't mean that I missed her any less.

Without Ally being around I had to step up and fill in the gap that she had left in our family. Ally was always the hardass. The tough one. If you were in a fight you'd want Ally in your corner. Despite anything that she says, she did love her family at one point. She was always on our side. In our corner.

Then one moment that all changed. We had a new addition to the family.

Little DeeDee.

DeeDee, my sweet little niece. Such a sweet kid, not a bad bone in her body. It's almost hard to believe that she's my sister's daughter. What they lacked in a shared personality they make up for in identical looks, they look the spits of each other, a true carbon copy.

When my sister found out she was pregnant she ran away. Telling not a soul why. Except for me.

I found out on my own, we have always told her to clean up after her self or something might happen. Well hi, I'm that something. She never kept me updated through the duration of her pregnancy, not like I expected her too, she just up and left. Until DeeDee turned 3. It's only been a year since she came home and she's was more disconnected than ever, especially with mom.

The rattle of an all too familiar engine interrupts my conversation with mom. Giving each other a knowing look with flickers of uncertainty as though maybe we heard wrong.

We didn't hear wrong.

The pounding of her heavy-duty boots slapping against the hardwood floor, echoing through the entire house. The house was so silent you could probably hear a pin drop.

Mom went to 'greet' her first, myself in tail, just in case this all goes south which it most likely will. We haven't seen or even heard from her for well over 3 years now, it got to the point where we all just assumed that she was never coming back. It explains the shock towards her arrival. Well, half of her arrival.

"Ally... your home," mom squeaks out unable to hide the overwhelming shock in her voice. It's awkward, so awkward that it makes me want to itch. The passing eye contact between one another speaks more than their unspoken words. 

The reunion of a mother and her absent daughter.

The shock must have gotten to mom's head because she failed to notice the new soul in the room with us. A person we have never had the pleasure to meet. Standing behind her mother, not tall enough to reach her hip yet, is a little girl. All wrapped in a cosy jacket despite the Atlanta heat is the reason why I haven't seen my sister in 3 years.

Moving forward to where Ally can fully see me, making brief eye contact before kneeling down before the little girl. Hands tugging tightly on her mother's leg as she hides her face from mine. It's understandable, I'm an unknown face, so I decided to introduce myself, "Hello," I said gentle, just looking at the innocent girl softly not wanting to overstep my boundaries, "I'm Macy."

I'm oblivious to my surroundings, so much so that I didn't hear the stampede of feet rocketing down the stairs. The only thing I'm focusing on is this little girl. She just looks at me in what I'm assuming is confusion because she's never seen me before and I her. It's new for all of us.

"What's your name?"

I honestly didn't expect an answer, she looked like such a delicate flower, but a genuine smile covered my face when she said "Lydia" in the quietest voice I've ever heard.

"Nice to meet you, Lydia," I say as I reached my hand forward for her to take in her own, and she did. Slowly but surely her hand was in mine, her tiny hand. Smiling softly at Lydia hoping to have her mirror my actions, she does, but it's short-lived as I'm sucked back into the reality that is the rest of my family.

"So you run off, get knocked up and have the audacity to come back here 3 years later begging for a place to stay," laughed Cora at the mentality of her older sister. I can't help but shake my head as I let go of Lydia's hand, her smile falling behind my back, "Cora, she had a kid," I said to my sister hoping to get her to understand, but it seems as though I don't understand either.

"Oh no the kid can stay, but her," she laughed at the thought, "no chance, not again," shaking her head at the idea of us welcoming Ally back into our home, into our family again. Cora is strong-minded, no doubt about it, but when it comes to her family, if anyone stands in between them and happiness, even if it's our family themselves, they best hope they don't cross Cora. 

Cora and Ally have never gotten along. I've always blamed it on the fact that they are too much alike. Cora may be extremely vocal about everything, but Ally is too, just minus the vocal part. You can tell a lot about Ally and how she's feeling just by looking at her. And right now she looks vulnerable. She has a child and I don't know where she has been staying for the last few years but right now she's homeless and what type of family would we be if we shunned out our own.

A terrible one that's what.

"Corrina, if she wants to stay she can stay. If she wants to go she can go. This is just as much her home as it is yours," mom ushered out all in one breath, still baffled that her daughter and newly found granddaughter are standing before her.

I really feel for our mother, ever since Ally vanished she hasn't been the same. It was a drastic change, not enough for the people she sees on her daily shop, but us, her family have noticed that a little light behind our mother's eyes has been duller than usual. Looking at her right now, the light is still flickering but instead with hope. Hope at a new beginning with her daughter and her granddaughter.

"If you ever leave my mother like that again, after everything she has done for us, especially you, it'll be the last thing you do," threatens Cora, never breaking her eyes from Ally who is doing the same.

Coming back to her senses, Ally snaps out of the trance that is Cora's eyes, clicking her fingers like a royal pain in the ass, "Lydia, come," she orders the little girl as she readies herself for the March up the stairs.

Noticing that her mother is no longer standing in front of her, hiding her from the picture that is her family, she rushes to her mother not before looking at me though and I can't help but feel bad, "Lydia if you want you can stay down here, I can make you something to eat," I said trying my best to convince the little girl that she doesn't have to do everything her mother says, but little Lydia shakes her head in rejection. 

Maybe it's because she genuinely just wants to stay with her mom in a foreign place or it could be that her mom is staring at her, as though waiting for Lydia to make the wrong choice. P.S I'm the wrong choice in this situation, according to her.

Stomping her away up the stairs like an angry teenager, she leaves her daughter behind assuming that she will just follow her like a helpless puppy. Unable to hide my pity for the little girl, I attempt to cheer her up a bit, "see you soon DeeDee," I promised as a subtle smile appeared on the 3-year-olds face before running after her mother's tail.

The hallway is left in silence, not an awkward silence but just a thoughtful one. The same thoughts and feelings are running through all our minds; Ally's back, with a child. She was bad enough on her own, but now with a daughter, I fear not only for us but for that little girl.

Rubbing my eyes, as the only thought that is running through my mind behind 'this is not my fault', 'there was nothing I could have done to make her stay', no matter what, if she left for a reason or not, I just hope she keeps DeeDee safe because God knows she never done that when she was here anyway.

Just as I  had enough of the energy to leave he room, a pile of papers tucked under Ally's mattress caught my attention. Behind down to pull them out, I'm shocked at what she had hidden. It as a collection of loose picture. My curiosity getting the better of me, I start to flick through them, she not here to tell me otherwise.

There are ones from her senior year of high school and her only 2 friends, who I've only had the pleasure of meeting once. On was called Barrett from what I remember, I don't remember the other name, all I know is that the unknown friend mysteriously disappeared a few years after they left high school.

The rest of the picture where weird but oddly boring, snaps of her smoking and drinking, kicking a few gravestones, y'know typical Ally behaviour. It's the last picture that struck me, made my blood run cold but in a comforting way. It's a picture of Ally and I for that time I shaved my head. I briefly remember mom taking it after me begging for hours, trying to convince her and Ally that this was a moment the was worth capturing. 

There I stood, tall and proud, both hands on my head with a cheeky grin plastering on my beetroot face, my eyes holding a sheen of water from laughing. It's a contrasting picture. Ally slouched beside me, well a wingspan away from me, because I'm was an embarrassment to her. Her eyes deadly staring into the camera, making no effort to show any emotion.

I remember being disappointed with her lack of effort in the picture, but looking at it now it's perfect. It really shows how we were and are. I always wondered where this picture went. Mom got it reluctantly developed for me and even framed it for my bedside table. I only had it for a few days before it went missing. At first, I blamed mom, believe she wanted to erase the memory from her brain, but all this time Ally had it, and that oddly warms my heart. Sure it was hidden under her bed, but she still had it and kept it. Now I'm deciding to take it back because if the world continues the way it going, I don't know when the next time I'll see my sister will be.

"Do you think we'll ever see her again?" the sudden voice breaking through the air causing me to jump, and I spin around to find Cora leaning on the door frame, looking around the room in wonder just as I had moments before.

"If you asked me a week ago I would have said yes," I replied looking down at the picture in my hand before folding it and putting it into my back pocket, "Now I don't know."

The thought of Ally coming home was always a distant one. I wanted to believe that the day would come where she would be back and our family would be whole again. That was when the world was normal and even then she still showed no signs of ever coming back.

It seems to me as though the world as we know it is changing, coming to an end if you will. The though of Ally coming home was a longshot before but now more than ever.

A redneck just apparently saved my mom life for crying out loud and now I'm having to drive with said redneck to find his brother.

The worlds went mad.

It's changed and I don't know if I like it.

But it seems like I have no choice.

And thats chapter two done. Its going to be an interesting ride thats for sure. 

You got to learn some more about Ally and we also met the lovely man that it Merle Dixon.

If you want to be tagged when I post for this AU just ask and I will for sure do that.

But anyways, yeah, I hope you liked it.

DAISY.

[voidcat]

– Gekka Bijin

Gekka Bijin, also known as the Beauty Under the Moon or the Queen of the Night, is a species of cactus and one of the most cultivated species in the genus. It blooms rarely and only at night.

Oikawa finds himself at a party he couldn't care less for, searching for someone he cares about a little too much.

word count: 1.8k

a/n: this is mainly inspired by the song Bodys, I suggest listening to it as you read. | ao3

The new song that takes over the place makes the party seem like something out of a mediocre America coming-of -age movie. Oikawa looks around, what was he even doing here?

The beat starts to change and what he assumes to be the main melody begins to take over the room. The chances of finding the one person he was looking for were low, very low. And he is sure he had spent all his luck in life already. Agreeing to attend chibi-chan’s party wasn’t the brightest idea he has had but he had to start somewhere, preferably night time; so the darkness and the dim lights surrounding him could hide his face in case his mask happens to slip. That’s not what I meant to say at all. I mean- I’m sick of meaning, I just want to hold you.

You and me both; he cannot help but think, sparing a glance at the unfamiliar faces and the clashing bodies around him. The whole place stinks of sweat, alcohol and a pinch of tobacco. He scrunch his nose at that. Is the chorus yet? No, it’s just the building of the verse…

“What type of idiot even comes up with such lame lyrics anyway? I don’t even want to think who listens to them...” he’s complaining to himself, again.

“Well I’d bet my money on that girl by the stereo who seems to be having too much fun.” Oikawa didn’t even realize he was complaining out loud until he heard the familiar voice reply to him. He looks up to the direction of the said girl. “Is she... holding an empty bottle of vodka as a mic?” He tilts his head as he tries to make sense of the scene before him, trying his best to ignore the owner of the voice deliberately.

“Holding onto the bottle, would be a more proper expression I think.” This time he looks back at the voice.

His time in California has done wonders on him, that’s for sure. His, now tanner, skin compliments his deep olive green eyes as always, his hair slightly ruffled and he can spot a little bit of a blush on his face. Could be from the alcohol, he assumes, if Iwai was drinking.

Everything around him is in a blur, his eyes do not see anything that’s not him.

“Long time no see Iwa-chan!” he says at last, one of his signature smiles decorating his face. “What brings you to chibi-chan’s party?” Iwa frowns at that, must’ve realized the smile is fake. “Dragged in by Mattsun and Makki the moment I said I was going to spend the night by myself.” Mattsun and Makki. It has been a while he last talked to them properly, and he hasn’t been messaging with Iwaizumi like he once did either, so that must say something. The distance between them put its toll on their life-long friendship. Reading, more like trying, his messages of “shittykawa” in his voice can never compare to hearing the awful nickname, even if it’s followed by a hit.

Interrupted from his train of thoughts, he watches Iwa’s gaze go down. “Nice tshirt.” Right, he forgot he was wearing that tonight. The writing ‘zacco platypus’ on his chest feels heavier than ever.

Another trademark smile. “What can I say, Iwa-chan. I missed ya!” He says in his typical singsong tone. The unsettling silence takes over as they stare at one another, both seem to be deep in thought.

The truth is Iwaizumi wasn’t the one avoiding Oikawa, at least not as obviously. Ever since high school ended and their lives got separated by an ocean, Oikawa was left with too much time to overthink the smallest things.

He realizes he hasn’t said anything nor made a gesture to show he heard Iwa yet. “So you’re here by yourself? No one new in your life?” He isn’t sure if he wants to hear his friend’s reply to the latter.

“Tried once or twice, didn’t stick long. I won’t ask you back the same question though, you’ve spammed me with all the gruesome details just as they happened.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Sure, talking excitedly about a date gone nice or the little things that attracted him further to his dates were something he let his friend know.

But he never told him how he tried dating men; how he was always searching for calloused hands, sharp green eyes, messy spiky hair; how he wished he could hear the mean nicknames instead of cute names of endearment or the silly pet names. How often he thought about what the two of them could have been, how he never acted towards this dream, the fear of ruining their friendship nagging his brain.

The drunk girl starts to sing along loudly: “Well, so what? We're young!” something he can’t put a finger on changes in her tone. “We’re thin, most of us.

We're alive-“ A pause. “Most of us.” She ends it in a rather sad tone.

“Well, they seem to be having fun.” Iwai spares a glance at the dancing figures around them, attempting to keep the conversation alive. “I’d be having fun too, if I consumed booze recklessly and lost myself completely I guess.” Oikawa says with a roll of eyes.

Then his body sets into motion before he can comprehend what his hands are doing. He puts his hands on Iwa’s shoulders, truly a sight out of a cheesy teen romcom. He wants to scoff at his cliché-ness.

 He can see the shock painted on Iwaizumi’s face.

“Those are you got some nice shoulders  I'd like to put my hands around them  I'd like to put my hands around them”

“Oi baka-kawa, what are you doing?”

“Following the instructions, and trying to have fun, assumed acting a bit more like them could help achieve that.” He points at the people around them with his head. They start to swing in an awkward manner, not exactly matching the song’s pace or rhythm. Iwa’s hands find his waist.

“So what’s with the sudden change of your messages lately?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Iwa-chan-“ Oikawa tries to brush it off, breaking eye contact but it seems Iwa won’t let go of this any time soon.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about, I’m not in the mood for your games or blatant acting so you better explain to me what’s been bothering you.” His demeanor is stern but he can hear the concern in his voice.

He wants to turn his gaze away, avoid the piercing looks Iwa is sending his way, but if he’s really going to do it tonight, there’s a chance this may be the last time he will get to see his face like this, up-close.

Meeting Iwa’s stare wasn’t the sanest thing to do for Oikawa because he cannot find it in himself to blink. He wishes for time to stop and to stay in this exact moment forever. With his hands on his shoulders, Iwa’s hands on his waist, gazing into each other’s eyes and getting lost in them; everything besides them is a mixture of noise and colors. No longer resisting the demanding look in Iwa’s eyes, Oikawa opens his mouth at last:

“I was afraid I’d say something wrong, ruin something between us or cause a mess I couldn’t fix because there’d be this entire ocean between the two of us.”

He stops to take a deep breathe. “I guess I was afraid I’d do something stupid… (like this)” The last bit remains unsaid but it’s heavy in the air and they both know it. He speaks in a whisper and leans in for a kiss.

All he can feel is how warm and soft being this close to Iwaizumi feels. It feels different than any other kiss he has ever had and he knows nothing will be the same after it. He’s too focused on his worrying, he doesn’t even realize whether Iwa responds back to his kiss or not. And so he pulls back to examine his face and get a good look at him in this shitty lightning one last time.

“Oi, if the idea of the two of us is stupid to you, maybe you shouldn’t have gone in for a kiss.”

At that moment Oikawa is at a loss of words. He stands with his jaw hanging open, trying to process his words. He was expecting a shove, maybe an angry yell, a hit in the head or Iwaizumi to leave immediately without sparing him a glance. But this?.. This was not on that list, not even an option at all.

Having read him through his various moods all his life, Iwa seems to know what is exactly going in Oikawa’s head. So he pulls the idiot back to him, his right hand on his jaw, for a second kiss.

No fireworks, no explosions; all those writers and painters must have been wrong all this time.

Because the kiss he shares with the person he loves more than anything else in this world feels like something he long searched for and finally found. And in a sense, it is exactly that.

Kissing Iwa in that very moment comes natural to him just like breathing, eating, doing a jump serve or setting for him. It feels like coming home to rest after a long day, to eat milk bread after craving it for so long, to watch the sun set after a well spent day.

Kissing Iwaizumi Hajime feels like home.

He is sure somewhere far away a queen of the night blooms just as they kiss.

They pull away slowly. Every action they take together, they’ve grown accustomed to it, in perfect sync and tonight is no exception. They can see each other smiling faintly. One of his genuine ones, Iwaizumi knows. Oikawa rests his forehead on Iwa’s and they stand like that for a little longer.

I got so fucking romantic, I apologize.

A new song starts to play through the speakers.

“Seriously, what’s up with those lyrics?” Oikawa starts shaking his head, still smiling.

His whiny statement goes ignored by Iwaizumi: “What do you say, we go out and… catch up?” 

He’s met with intense and light brown eyes suddenly directing their attention back to him, there must be supernovas hidden inside them, he cannot help but think, a lump forming in his throat.

“And we can… put a name on what we are, if you’d like that, I mean-“ He is cut off by a quick peck on the lips and next thing he knows, he’s being dragged away from the party by the only person he has always loved and cared for with his whole heart.

As the obnoxious music they left behind fades into the background, Oikawa makes a mental note to send that girl a bottle of her favorite drink; marching towards nowhere in particular, hand in hand with the one he loves.

[gascon-en-exil]

FE16 Blue Lions Liveblogging

Chapters 17-18. Lots of heavy plot content here.

The further along I get in the war phase the more superfluous the monastery content and calendar system becomes. I haven’t gotten any new paralogues since Annette and Gilbert’s, because I believe you only get ones for characters you’ve recruited and I’ve exhausted all of those. I’ve read that Dimitri may have one toward the end, and Mercedes shares hers with Caspar of all people so that’ll have to wait for a playthrough when I do inter-house recruiting, but apart from that everyone in my army has had one. There’s little to do at the monastery but grind professor rank and Renown, mostly for supports and a last few skill ranks. What little there is in the way of quests is just Gilbert asking for resource contributions. It’s like the endgame WoW of years past, only without even the option to do group content (not that I would, but regardless).

The enemy AI for the school phase’s Battle of the Eagle and Lion allowed it to feel like a genuine struggle between three opposing armies, but round 2 in the war phase sacrificed narrative for the sake of difficulty. The Alliance forces charged my position after a few turns and didn’t go for the Empire at all, leaving me to play more defensively to neutralize their flying archer lord (...I really hope Claude spontaneously getting a wyvern gets some kind of explanation in the Deer route, something more than “because Almyran, just go with it”). Dedue once against punched Edelgard into submission because he’s distinctly good at that - really goes along with the hunting her down and killing her bit in another route, which TVTropes is now claiming can still happen if you choose to spare her. Huh.

Student kills: Ferdinand and Bernadetta from the Eagles, Lorenz, Raphael, Ignatz, Leonie, and Lysithea from the Deer, with the others either retreating or still unseen in the war phase. Petra was the only one who really surprised me by retreating instead of dying.

Starting in Chapter 18 Dimitri can be interacted with again like a normal unit. While I have issues with some of the presentation behind his change of heart (see below), it’s good to have him working on supports and building his skill ranks during training sessions again. Not that he really needs the latter; his stats are massive and both his sword and lance ranks are nearly maxed out.

The story map for Chapter 18 introduces magic/technology hybrids that act like either monsters or siege towers, on top of having at least one enemy caster with a traditional siege spell. Adding a lever far into the map to shut down the lightning towers was a nice touch.

Most of the master classes have been a pain to grind toward, as only a few units have what it takes to be true hybrids. Sylvain is evidently one of them, but sending Mercedes through cavalier to work on her riding for holy knight made her borderline useless. At least some of the advanced classes are good enough to where they could feasibly work for endgame (but I do still want a holy knight, so Mercedes will continue poking things for a while).

Story/Character observations

I’ve been getting all kinds of A supports. Dimitri/Dedue and Felix/Sylvain are as gay as advertised. Catherine/Ashe is one of those rare plot-heavy support lines, where we find out more about Lonato and Ashe’s own drive for revenge. Byleth/Gilbert is not even slightly romantic even late into their A support, which makes me wonder why he’s an S rank option for either gender when it’s more about pushing him to go home to his wife. Ditto Gilbert’s supports with Annette. Ashe/Annette gets kind of cute in the end, but Felix/Annette involves entirely too many of her comically bad songs to be endearing. Manuela cuts out the cougar routine when she spies on Sylvain being an asshole. Catherine thought young Dimitri was a maiden based on his haircut (as seen in the CG of him dancing with Edelgard - this guy is forever doomed to multiple varieties of bad hair) and repeats Felix’s taunt that Dimitri used to get so excited while training that he’d break swords in half but he’s better with lances even though they have less durability? I forget with whom, but Dimitri shuts down the impossible dream of fellow lance lord Ephraim by acknowledging that his traveling the world as a warrior would be irresponsible. The gender of Shamir’s first love might depend on Byleth’s - will have to see how the f!Byleth support words it. 

As for the story, this is the moment where Dimitri makes his turn back toward sanity and a sense of personal responsibility. Just as I predicted, his decision to allow that unnamed orphan girl to join the army turns out to have been a bad one. After Rodrigue takes a blade for his prince and Byleth shows himself again adept at swift executions, Dimitri is moved by the death of yet another of his loved ones to go walking in the rain and respond favorably to vaguely inspirational dialogue choices. While I understand what the writers were going for, I have two issues with this sequence of events. The first is minor, in that the CGs used for them - of Fleche preparing to stab Dimitri and Rodrigue stepping between them, of the dying Rodrigue cradling Dimitri’s face, and of Dimitri in the rain - don’t do a very good job of matching the intended mood. The first two use sunset lighting and thus appear much too soft, while Dimitri in the rain with his hair plastered to his head alone against a black background looks unsettling and almost creepy for what’s meant to be his big moment of redemption. That’s a small quibble with artistic choice, however.

On the other hand, my other issue will take a whole post to explain. I’ll be saving that for a larger Dimitri/Dedue project after I’ve completed playthroughs of all the routes routes, but my basic argument is this: Dedue being removed and then optionally re-inserted into the Blue Lions storyline was necessary for Dimitri’s emotional arc to make sense, and to allow Byleth a much larger role in said arc than they otherwise would have had. Yes, I have major shipping goggles on here, but try to imagine a scenario where Dedue saves Dimitri from prison and they go on the run together for five years, before reuniting with everyone at the monastery.

To no one’s surprise, Dedue takes up watching after the prince in the monastery the chapter after he returns. In Chapter 18 he comments that he’s the only that Dimitri hasn’t really changed despite appearing more sane, that he’s still too kind and sensitive to the suffering of war and that Dedue admires him for that. They’re just laying the subtext on thick now.

Related to my problem with the Alliance AI in the threeway battle, it’s never explained why Claude joins the battle at Gronder Field (apart from getting him into that cutscene they all share, anwyay). Prior to that battle House Reigan opposed the Empire and even engaged House Gloucester’s pro-Imperial faction to distract them from Chapter 16′s bridge.  As the next chapter’s title references the Deer however I imagine I’ll get an explanation sooner rather than later.

Cornelia’s cleavage may be impossible, but as far as under-dressed female villains in this series go she wasn’t terrible. She doesn’t flirt with anyone and apparently got her lofty position in the Kingdom through her talents at magic and infrastructure reform (which may have included the turrets and giant robots in Fhirdiad? Was that the implication?). Her dying revelation about Dimitri’s stepmother would have landed better had we ever seen anything of her, but I suppose as Edelgard’s birth mother she’ll be brought up again in some capacity on her route.

[vaguely-concerned]

SO I DID GET TO SEE GOOD OMENS AND TL;DR IT WAS EXCELLENT, I AM EUPHORIC

more thoughts and spoilers under the cut!

the FUCK YEEEEEEEAAAAAHs:

- mr gaiman you did it you made it even gayer I never even believed it was possible what is this 6000 years pining slowburn nonsense 

*ahem* to be more serious about it I loved that the show takes the emotional throughlines from the book and somehow both heightens and deepens them. 

- it really is phenomenally faithful to the book and the stuff it adds is mostly a m a z i n g. it kept me perfectly engaged despite me knowing what like 75% of the dialogue was going to be

- david tennant doesn’t quite go for the same energy as how I imagine crowley in the book -- in my head he’s more... idk how to explain it but the vibe is more someone grinning a bright fixed ‘this is totally my suave face’ grin while clearly continually going ‘oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck’ internally haha, to me he’s slightly less... mercurial? trying to play his cards closer to the chest? but you know what show!crowley is fucking hilarious too and I do like what they’ve done with him being less of an optimist at the core and more enjoying the world through his connection with aziraphale -- the sense of underlying loneliness you get in some places in the book has really been dialed up, he just wants a friend :( (which incidentally seems to be part of the reason he fe -- sauntered vaguely downwards too; he mostly wanted to hang out with someone, and today he still doesn’t really fit in with either the angels or the demons) 

- I can’t believe they managed to capture the feeling of ‘Under the ash and soot that flaked his face, he looked very tired, and very pale, and very scared’ on screen; it’s one of the moments of the book that really stuck with me and it worked so well here too, especially since the fallout of the situation stays with him longer

- this version of aziraphale is just. so lovely. so so good, literal precious angel who almost got his head cut off for crepes, I totally see why crowley persevered through the ages and his own intimacy issues, good call my friend. thank you michael sheen, every time this character showed up on screen I was filled with joy and delight

- I’m completely undone by how incredibly mutual their friendship is in this -- despite crowley being the more active in asking for connection it’s obvious all the way through how much aziraphale genuinely adores him and enjoys his company (even though he knows he shouldn’t and so continually needs to give himself some plausible deniability)

when aziraphale’s voice breaks as he’s like ‘don’t go’ after they’ve argued in the park and he’s just tried to pretend they’re not even friends? hahahahahahaha ouch my fucking heart

- sister mary loquacious was the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, give that actress all the roles she’s got the charisma of the gods

- “not only a southern pansy, sergeant -- the southern pansy” got through and it was glorious (ditto shadwell’s naming schemes, I for sure thought that wouldn’t be mentioned but it’s so incredibly funny)

- crowley repeatedly and openly just... begging aziraphale to go off to the stars with him what the fick-freckedy-fuck

- Of the horsemen Pollution was my absolute fave (so cool and unsettling and nonbinary rep!!!!!!! also they feel like the youngest horseman in such a deep way, every credit to the actress that was great) and I really enjoyed the twist on Famine, making him seem more intense and hungry himself as part of his nature as opposed to in the book where he’s basically like... diet vetinari lol

- G A B R I E L  he was so perfectly awful... absolutely no redeeming features whatsoever he’s just a piece of shit all the way through and John Hamm was clearly having the time of his life with it and I too was living 

- crowley crying in the bar because he lost his best friend and there’s no point to even try to run away anymore if he’s alone, he’s just waiting for the end of the world ;____________________________________________________; what an addition, such a thoughtful way to steer his character arc, wonderful, spectacular

in the book it’s more about him finding his way through the fear and desperation and having lost everything back to his core ‘actually... fuck this there’s no situation I can’t snake my way out of let’s goooooooooo’ self, which is admittedly really cool and satisfying, but it feels like a shallower thing than finally reaching a point where he can no longer pretend he doesn’t care or doesn’t want things. (also... the way his will to live reignites the moment aziraphale needs him fjskadlfhaskdhfksldhfslkahdf “I’ll come find you” INDEED fjksdafhsdlfhsdalfh) 

- also a nice tiny change: the implication that reason he can drive the bentley through the flames is that he loves that car so fucking much, he’s invested so much of himself and his emotions in it over many years, like a sort of microcosm of how he feels about the actual world (and specifically humanity’s presence in it) that produced it

- the child actors were uniformly precious, and the kid who played adam got me right in the feelings. the sort of comedic sociopathy of kids thing going on in the book is downplayed, which means I was feeling all the more protective of this sweet sweet kid who just loves his dog and his friends and fjsdfklasjkh

- *sigh* my embarrassing crush on david tennant has been lying dormant these last few years, simply waiting for its chance to rise from the depths like a kraken yet again, and I am slightly unsettled that what really made it surface this time was him dressed up as evil Mary Poppins + the bathing suit, socks included. ah well the heart uh wants what it wants I guess 

- crowley is awfully quick to suggest child murder for someone who’s blatantly not willing to harm a hair on a kid’s head himself lawl the two of them just juggling the ‘but maybe you could like... quickly murder him so we could avoid all this???’ ball back and forth before madame tracy finally knocks some sense into them 

- the actress for madame tracy did such an amazing job that I literally forgot aziraphale wasn’t actually possessing her, ART

- fellas... is it gay to blow up a bunch of nazis for your ~*best friend*~ and save his books while actualfax romantic music swells in the background... asking for a friend 

- “anywhere you want to go” :):):):) oh no

- to be Sad at you for a second here... why the fuck did aziraphale immediately assume crowley wanted the holy water to use it on himself? is there like. a story here we don’t know. is this the fallout of going to check wtf the spanish inquisition was all about. I’m almost afraid to ask

- to be even Sadder: that ‘For Terry’ made me cry and I’m not ashamed to admit it

the awwww... okay I guess you can’t have EVERYTHINGs:

- the scene where crowley and aziraphale get wasted together after the antichrist is delivered is not quite as funny as it is in my head, but then I don’t think anything in the physical world could be as funny as the way I imagine them just like somberly leaning over the table at each other with little regard for personal space and drunkenly expounding on dolphins, so I’ll forgive it

- CGI satan was completely unnecessary and not even very well designed *shrug emoji* the whole point of that scene is that we never get to see him, just the mounting dread as he’s getting closer, and then the wordless reveal of who Adam considers to be his dad and that’s all that matters and even the devil is powerless against it... loved the ~*godfathers*~ giving a little literal angel/devil on my shoulder pep talk, tho, that was incredibly sweet

- ...the maggots huh neil. couldn’t leave them out huh. what a world it would be if we didn’t get to see a bunch of people get eaten by a writhing roomful of maggots huh. 

- ETA: actually one more: I refuse to accept this version of DEATH, hashtag not my reaper

[happilywithharold]

And I’d Still Be A Fool

“Wait… don’t pull away just yet, pet.”

Harry’s grip around my waist tightened as we continued to sway to the lulling sound of the live band. I giggled and laid my head back on his chest. Even in the midst of the commotion, I could hear his heart beating steadily just for me.

I whined playfully. “My feet hurt! This has to be the fifth song we’ve danced to in a row, and I am wearing heels.”

“But Y/N!”

Harry pouted his perfectly plump lips before pressing them against my own. “I can’t let yeh go because I love holding yeh close.” He nestled his head against mine, and I relaxed in his arms. “There’s no place like it.”

My charming boyfriend always had a way with words, which made every little action of his so endearing. The love I had for him manifested over the years and grew into something so much stronger than I could have ever imagined.

As I watched the bride and groom dancing right across the reflective floor, I could not help but feel happiness looming over the entire room. It was a beautiful thing that two people could fall in love so deeply that they want to take that leap into forever.

“You’re sweet, babe.” I sighed. “But it looks like you are going to have to manage without me. I have to use the ladies room.”

I leaned up onto my tip toes and kissed Harry’s cheek. He was reluctant to let go of me but after the second kiss, he relented. I had to practically sprint away, giggling and not chancing a second glance back to my love.

I entered the restroom and smiled once I saw Gemma reapplying her lipstick in the mirror. “Hey! It’s crazy out there, isn’t it? I’m still shocked Nick and Olivia finally did it. They’re married. Can you believe that?”

She puckered her lips one final time before shaking her head with a laugh. “No, not really. Just last week the two were going at it over which color to paint their bedroom and now they’re as happy as birds.” She dropped the tiny vessel of crimson back into her purse and smirked at me knowingly. “I would like to see you and Harry next though.”

My cheeks were slightly tinted with pink as I leaned against the counter. “You and me both, Gem. Someday soon.”

She joked, “How soon? It’s been five years, Y/N. You two are killing us with all of this suspense. Just do the damn deed already!”

I laughed off her comment as she left to rejoin the party, but she was nothing short of truthful.

Harry and I had been dating for a little over five years now and been friends long before that. I never imagined my life without him in it, so I wasn’t hung up on the idea of marriage. I knew we were forever. However, that didn’t stop the question of when from milling around in my head.

I came back to the party to find a little miss had happily taken my place. One of the flower girls, I presumed. I watched happily as Harry carried her on his feet, dramatically dipping her at every other note change in the ballad.

The man before me was definitely the one for me. I had no doubts about it. Loving him came as simple as breathing, and I knew the feeling was mutual. It was when the party died down and we were laying on the couch in our pajamas that I decided to tell him just that.

“I love you, Harry.” I smiled. “So much.”

He smiled up at me from his position on my lap. “I love yeh more, pet.” He smoothed his hand over my knee absentmindedly and exhaled a breath of contentment. “Today was a good day.”

I nodded, my lips curving slightly. “Yeah, it was…” I paused. “When do you think we’ll get married? Roughly, I mean.” When he didn’t answer, I continued. “I’m okay waiting another couple of years, you know? We could really get a grip on our careers and everything first. You don’t have to be all intimidated either. The proposal will still be a surprise-“

He interrupted my rambling, sitting up on the couch. “Y/N, darling…”

“I don’t want to know! If you tell me it’s in Paris, I swear I might just cry right now.”

“Yeh know m’crazy about yeh, right?” He asked incredulously.

I laughed a little and shifted so my legs were draped over his. “I sure hope so. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” I judged him. “Why are you acting odd all of a sudden?”

The crease between his brows only deepened as we looked at each other in complete silence. The look in his eyes were unsettling, and I bit down on my lip to keep from bombarding him with questions.

He broke the silence. “M’not. You and I are solid, yeah? And m’happy about it. Nothing more to say really.”

“Yes. We are solid, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to know what the future holds.” I removed his hand from off of my thigh and stood up. “Harry, tell me there is a future for us.”

“Of course there is, Y/N.”

“What do you see?” I countered, nervously folding and unfolding my arms around myself.

I never thought we would be here having this conversation. It was baffling because I believed the two of us felt the same about each other. I believed he envisioned the two of us marrying and settling down right here in the town the both of us grew up loving.

He stammered, “I...I-I don’t. Y/N, this is silly. Yeh know I love you. We shouldn’t have to figure this out right this second.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“You don’t want to marry me,” I mumbled.

Harry stood up, his tall frame now towering over me. His lips were on mine before I could say much else, but I broke the kiss quickly.

“Y/N, please… we don’t need to figure this out now. S’just a piece of paper.”

The weight of his words crushed me. It wasn’t just a piece of paper to me, and I wanted him to understand that. Only the hint of annoyance etched onto his face assured me he probably never would.

“I didn’t realize there was anything to figure out. You love me, and I love you. It’s that simple. I can’t imagine my life without you. Being married does not constitute as just a piece of paper. It’s a commitment, one you are either willing or unwilling to make. So which is it?”

He shrugged. “I dunno know.” He paused. “After seeing what my parents went through, let’s just say m’not in any kind of rush to walk down the aisle and make promises neither of us are sure we can keep.”

I grabbed the remote and muted the television. Then I slowly took a step back from him as I contemplated his response. “You see, that’s the problem. I know in my heart that I would do anything for you. I know that I would never have an issue being faithful to you and only you for the rest of my life.”

Tears welled in my eyes and fell down my hot cheeks as I stared at him blankly. “But you can’t, can you?”

His silence was the nail in the coffin, the final answer I never knew I needed before tonight. His hesitance made me question if he ever truly loved me at all. If he had, he wouldn’t have had the courage to string me along for years as if I didn’t matter.

I sniffed. “Well said, Harry. Thank you for showing me how much I really mean to you.”

That night I packed my bags and left our shared apartment with no destination in mind. He didn’t even try to stop me, and I hated myself for wishing that he would. I guess I’d still be a fool in that light, a proper fool for him.

Read More...

[tinylilemrys]

Blue - a Widojest fic

Read it on AO3

Rating: G

Word Count: 1696

Summary: Caleb has a favourite colour.

Tags: Fluff, Caleb watches Jester paint, Jester surprises him, Campaign 2 spoilers

A/N:  I know I'm one of like five people that ship this, but they're both just so goddamn adorable that they pulled me out of my writing slump, so I owe them a lot.

Caleb has always been partial to the colour blue. As a child of the Empire, who rarely saw the sky beyond the grey clouds obscuring it most of the time, it had always instilled a sort of hope that there was more. Somehow, despite everything, something good would break through.

He couldn't have ever imagined being surrounded by quite this much of it. It stretches all the way across the sky, broken only by the occasional wisp of cloud. It lays spread out around the ship on all sides, broken only by the bright skittering reflection of the sun.

It also sits a few feet away from him on the deck, painting, wearing an endearing expression midway between concentration and bliss.

Caleb sinks further back into the shadow he's using as protection, heeding Fjord's warnings about the sun and pale skin, and steals glances at her over the top of the book he was only barely reading anyway. He can't help but smile at the way she has completely commandeered the left staircase to the forecastle, spreading out her painting implements so that attempting to pass that way would require quite the display of acrobatics. He knows she doesn't mean to and if anyone asked her to move, she would immediately and without question. This is just how she is when she starts creating.

As much as Jester is still a mystery to him in many ways, one thing he has learned in the times he has surreptitiously watched her painting or drawing is that she doesn't guard herself as much when she's concentrating on what she's making. And just how he sometimes finds himself mulling things over while poring over his well-read spell tomes, Caleb suspects this is when she does much of her reflecting and processing.

He finds the way she uses blue fascinating. Where Caleb finds solace and calm in the colour, Jester paints with it matter-of-factly, as if it is a necessary part of creating what she wants to create, but is not all that fazed by it. He supposes that as much as he is still excited to see so much blue, Jester has had no short supply of it her entire life, and it probably just doesn't hold the same interest for her.

By contrast, she has made it no secret that she loves the colour pink. It is embellished on her dress; it is the colour she requested Pumat Sol change her magical haversack; it is the colour of her spiritual weapon. The bright pink she favours is not a common colour in the natural world, so when she gets to paint with it, Caleb sees the faint smile on her face.

Caleb is grateful that it was probably too dark to see the pink of his cheeks after Jester heroically saved him from his feigned heart attack last night.

She seems to take as much joy from the colour yellow - swirling the brush around her page in bright happy strokes that bring to Caleb's mind the golden wildflowers that grew in the fields around his childhood village. It also briefly brings to mind the blazing gold of the fire that consumed his home, but he shakes his head clear.

He won't think about that now.

Jester paints her greens with relish, and Caleb finds the same unfamiliar and unwelcome sinking feeling in his stomach he feels whenever he sees her chancing glances at Fjord when she thinks no one is looking. She has known him the longest out of everyone and as such Caleb knows it makes far more sense for her attentions to be caught by him than any other member of the party, but some dark primal part of him simmers with frustration nonetheless.

He also knows what that probably means and he refuses to think about that either.

Caleb's heart catches as her hand hesitates over the purple for a moment or two before she picks it up. Molly's passing still hangs heavily over their party and he knows it weighs on Fjord, Yasha and Jester especially. However unfounded the idea, he knows that  they believe themselves partially responsible for his passing and though he has been consistent in his reminders that they are not to blame for what happened, he also knows what it is to have guilt eat away at the heart day after day. She closes her eyes for a moment as if in prayer before dipping her brush into the pot.

When she reaches for the red paint, he knows he's not imagining the small tears that pool briefly before she takes a deep breath and shakes them away. He feels a pang of regret on her behalf. She should have had more time with her mother and would have if not for the circumstances getting away from them. He makes a silent vow that he will help clear her name in Nicodranas so that the next time they visit, she will be able to have as much time with her mother as she wants.

He tells himself that this is something he would do for any of his friends, but he knows that it's a bit truer for her, which is an unsettling thought.

When she reaches for her pot of orange, Caleb is surprised that she looks up at him. Their eyes meet and, panicked, Caleb immediately buries his nose in his book. Though he had tried to avert them as quickly as possible, it wasn't fast enough to miss the surprise on Jester's face that their eyes had locked at all.

There's a beat or two of awkward silence before he hears her giggle slightly.

"Caaaleb, were you watching me?"

"No," he lies, desperately scrambling for any excuse. "I was just taking a pause between paragraphs to reflect on what I'd just read and happened to look at you just as you looked at me."

"Okay, if you say so," she says in that sing-song voice that should be annoying, but that tugs at the corners of his mouth and the edges of his heart every time. "I wouldn't blame you if you were though. I did save your life last night like the amazing and powerful cleric I am."

He knows he's blushing now and he damns his pale complexion for making it impossible to hide.

"Thanks again, Jester. I do appreciate it."

She looks as if she wants to say something more, but bites down on it with a smile and turns her attention back to her artwork instead. Caleb stares back down at his book, not daring to place his eyes anywhere else, though completely unable to absorb any of the words there. He can hear the blood in his ears coursing in time with the thudding of his heart, and knows that the heat creeping up his neck has little to do with the warm sun above him.

This is very much not good.

A few minutes pass in which Caleb tries and fails to continue his book, wondering if Jester's eyes are on him, and at times almost feeling them there, though he can't bring himself to look up and test this theory, which is why he jumps a few moments later when he feels the book being tugged down to reveal Jester, now on her knees right in front of him.

"Caleb, are you sure you’ve been keeping out of the sun like Fjord warned? You're looking pretty red right now." Her eyes are alight with mischief and he knows she's teasing him as he finds she is she is wont to do. "The sun can be really bad for you, you know."

"I have been trying to be careful as far as possible, but thank you for the reminder."

He wishes the wood below him would give way so that he could fall through it and escape this embarrassment.

"You're welcome," she grins. "You know, I'm glad you decided to go back to reading because otherwise you might have spoiled the surprise."

"The surprise?" Caleb asks. He blames the salt in the air for his impossibly dry mouth.

"The surprise," she says dramatically, bringing her hand out from behind her back and handing Caleb a small scrap of parchment on which she has painted the perfect likeness of Frumpkin in his cat form. Caleb's eyes widen in shock and he finds, despite the warm air, his hands are shaking slightly.

He doesn't know what to say and he can see something in her expression falter as he sits in stunned silence.

"Yeah, you know, I thought it was really kind of you to let Beau have Frumpkin for a while after losing Professor Thaddeus, and I know how much you like having him as a cat, so I thought I'd make you something that you can look at in those times when he's not around or he's being another creature. Do you... do you like it?"

"Like it? Jester, I... I don't know what to say. This is the nicest gift I have ever been given. Thank you very much." 

He dares to look into her eyes then and for once it seems she is as caught off guard as he is most of the time around her. She blinks a moment later, however, and her face returns to its usual jovial state.

"You're welcome," she says, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek and where her lips touch blazes furiously.

She bounds off to gather her paints a moment later and with one last brilliant smile, she turns briefly back to Caleb.

"The paint is still drying so you should be careful with it for the next while or else it will get all smudgy."

And then she disappears below deck, leaving Caleb in stunned silence once more.

He spends the longest time staring down at the painting, memorising the brush strokes, marveling at the way what looked like chaos earlier is now cohesive and beautiful.

When he's sure that the paint is dry, he tucks his gift carefully between the pages of the small book he keeps in his breast pocket.

The sky has never been so blue.

[pinknerdpanda]

Yes Ma’am

Word Count: 3280

Characters: Cas x reader (ish?), Sam, Dean

Warnings: Crack, Fluff, language, mild feminist rage

A/N: This was written for @plaid-lover-bay25 and Baylea’s SPN/Disney Birthday Challenge. My prompt is one of my favorite lines ever and it’s bolded below. Happy Birthday Bay! I hope you enjoy this little bit of insanity! Xoxoxo

Beta’d by: @wheresthekillswitch (aka my Soul Sister aka The Masterbeta) and @hannahindie (aka my Twinny aka the better half of HanPan) - Thank you so much for being the world’s best cheering squad and making my words make sense. Lee - thanks for the idea for the ending. You always make me a better me. I love you both!

x

Yes Ma’am

“I hate you.”

I glare at the man sitting next to me and he tilts his head almost imperceptibly as his gaze bores into mine. The flickering light above our heads casts a sickly glow across his face and I shift my body as best I can, trying to put as much distance between the two of us as possible.

“I can assure you that had I known the outcome of my attempts at gallantry, I would not have offered any kind of assistance.” His voice is hoarse and low, the sound eerily magnified in the small room. Mere hours ago I’d found his voice intoxicating and sexy, but now it grates on my already frayed nerves; it’s funny how much can change in such a short amount of time.

“And if only you’d listened when I said I was perfectly capable of taking care of myself, do you really think we’d be stuck here?”

He sighs, irritatedly. “I hardly think our ending up here was solely my doing. You are the one who thought assaulting the police officers was the logical next step.”

Before I can argue, the heavy, metal door to our right groans open, it’s hinges squealing in protest.

“Alright, Novak, James and Y/L/N, Y/N?” A sour faced officer appears from behind the door, glancing at us briefly to confirm our identities. We both nod and he drops his gaze back to the manila folder in his hands. “Alright, well, who wants to go first?”

---

I attempt to cross my arms over my chest before remembering my hands are shackled, connected by a length of iron chain, making the movement awkward and impossible. I lower my hands to my lap and narrow my eyes at the officer across the table from me. In any other circumstance, on any other hunt, I’d have been laying on the charm and playing up the puppy dog eyes in hopes of weaseling my way out of the inevitable interrogation. I’ve learned, however, that there’s no charm to lay once your secret stash of weaponry has been collected and bagged as evidence.

“So, Miss Y/L/N…”

I clear my throat, interrupting him. “It’s ‘Ms,” thank you very much.”

I hate that title - Ms. - it always makes me think of edgy divorcees from the 70’s who smoked pot in their basements and wore head to toe mustard colored polyester jumpsuits and feathered hair, but it was marginally better than the alternative.

He blinks at me blankly before over emphasizing it. “MS. Y/L/N, why don’t you start from the beginning?”

“How can I help you today, ma’am?”

I cringe at the overly-friendly voice from behind me. With all the advancements of human civilization, how have we as a society not come up with a better way to address a woman. It’s always “ma’am,” which makes me feel like a middle age matronly woman with a bun and a secret smoking habit. And if it’s not that it’s “Miss Y/L/N,” like I’m some sort of blonde haired, mini-skirt adorned sorority girl that speaks in acronyms and wears Uggs in the summer. Is there no middle ground?  Can we just universally agree on a form of address for a woman in her mid thirties that enjoys long walks to the fridge in her yoga pants between episodes of her current Netflix binge show, but can be fancy if she wants to be?

“Ma’am!” The voice has lost a considerable amount of it’s previous cheeriness and I realize I’ve been silently internal-monologuing in my head for longer than socially acceptable.

I sigh, my shoulders drooping slightly and turn on my heel to face my newest companion.

“Ya know, it’s just rude to call someone, who’s clearly under 50, ma’am,” I scowl at the uniformed employee, who seems to be truly taken aback by my tone of voice. “I’m younger than you are! ….ma’am. You oughta be ashamed of yourself.”

“How can I help you today,” he pauses, his eyebrows flickering together for a second, trying to figure out a way to complete the sentence.

“Better, thanks. I was really just wanting to get an inside look into your operations here.” I gesture behind me with a limp hand.

“But M…” he pauses, flinching as I raise my eyebrow, silently daring him to say it again. “Mmm…” he drags the letter out, clearly unsettled. He takes a deep breath and sets his shoulders, plastering a smile on his face. “This is a museum. I’m not really sure what kind of ‘inside look’ you were hoping for, but this section is off limits to everyone except the director.”

“So,” I cross my arms, tilting my head to one side, “are you saying you’ve never been in this section before?”

I almost miss it, it happens so quick, but his left eye twitches the tiniest bit as his ruddy cheeks subtly drain of their recent influx of color.

“You have, haven’t you?” I jab an accusatory finger in his direction. I’m cut off by a swarm of tourists all sporting calf-length black socks with their sandals as they pass by, snapping photos and moving on to the next exhibit. None of them seem to notice me or my new friend.

When they are out of earshot, I continue in a hoarse whisper. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who opened the box and summoned the demon.”

“Ma’am,” his top lip curling in satisfaction as my nostrils flare. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave, or I will be calling the police.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I get in there and undo whatever bullshit, hoey-doey nonsense your ignorant ass conjured up before any more people get hurt.”

I reach for my gun as he makes to lunge at me, and a second swarm of tourists interrupts us. I try to use their distraction as a way to buy time, but as I turn to run, a heavy hand lands on the back of my neck. I jab backwards, trying to put all my weight into the point of my elbow as it slams into my attacker, and the accompanying ‘crunch’ of  ribs is just damn satisfying.

“Excuse me, miss?” A low gravelly voice from somewhere behind me makes both me and my new buddy freeze. I huff a breath in the direction of a stray strand of hair as I crane my neck to find the source. “It would appear that you seem to be in some sort of trouble. Perhaps I could be of some assistance?”

The man’s grip on my neck tightens and I kick back hard with my left boot, connecting solidly with the man’s groin. I whirl to face a man in a long, tan trench coat with dark messy hair and icy blue eyes looking at the scene curiously and, dare I say, a little amused?

“And what makes you think I need your help, blue eyes?” Without looking, I pull the gun from it’s holster and aim it at the man on the floor, who's now making a keening sound and clutching his pearls. “Do I look like some kind of damsel in distress to you?”

His sapphire eyes narrow to slits in a way that should be menacing, but actually makes him endearing somehow. Except he just grins and nods, which makes my blood boil.

Before I can react a hand wraps around my ankle and my back connects with the floor with a painful thud, the gun flies from my hand and I scramble after it.

He shrugs. “Point proven.”

My hand wraps around the handle of the gun, and I jerk upright to a sitting position, the gun and my attention trained again on my assailant.

“Ok, so I’m a damsel. I’m in distress. I can handle this. Have a nice day.”

Blue Eyes opens his mouth to respond but he’s cut off by a voice over a bull horn “Put your hands in the air where we can see them! Nobody move!”

“And that, Officer Fife, is where you showed up and ruined everyone’s fun.”

The stunned officer sitting across from me blinks several times, his ears reddening before he stands and leaves without so much as a grunt in response.

Well, this looks like to be shaping up a great day.

-----

Castiel

“And that’s as much information as she gave us. Do you have anything you’d like to add or change from Miss...sorry MS. Y/L/N’s story, Mr. Novak?”

With Sam and Dean occupied with other things, I had hoped to have found a way to make myself useful, even with diminished grace. So when I’d heard that there was something that sounded like a case only a few miles away, it had only seemed logical that I check it out. Dean had always used the term “milk run” and I had felt that the term applied to this scenario, so I didn’t feel the need to involve them.

However, standing across the room from a man and a woman engaging openly in verbal conflict, I wish that I had perhaps done a little more homework. I have no idea if either person involved is in any way linked to the case, but their fight happens to be occuring right in front of the partition that my limited research had found to be the epicenter of the supernatural activity.

The scene doesn’t look dire, per say - in fact it looks quite tame compared to the battles waged in heaven since...well, since the dawn of time. It does seem that the woman has some level of control of the situation, and I’m almost ashamed to find that there’s something about her that I find both fascinating and albeit somewhat intimidating. It’s almost as if my interfering would be taken as an insult.

I feel compelled to spring into action as I see the man’s hand land firmly on the back of her neck and she makes a squeaking sound. As I cross the room, though, she has once again regained the advantage by cracking at least one of his ribs with her elbow. A sensation of pride floods my mind, followed quickly by amusement as I see the corners of her lips turn in a pleasant and satisfied smile.

“Excuse me, is there anything I can do to help?” The words are out of my mouth before I am fully aware my brain has formed them.

She turns a furious glance toward me and scoffs, causing a ribbon of hair to fall over one of her eyes.

She kicks him in the groin and I vaguely hear her muttering something about the lack of gender equality prevalent in the current culture. She turns and aims a gun at the man, now writhing in pain on the floor, likely caused by intricate and centralized assemblage of nerves in the pelvic region of the male anatomy.

“I’m not some damsel in distress!” Her voice takes on a notably higher tone as she whirls to face me. It appears my offer of help was a mistake.

The writhing man must have sensed her distraction as well, because for a moment I’m looking into her beautifully infuriated face and the next she’s flat on the floor, her gun skidding along the ground and landing a few yards from her grasp.

“Well damsel is an antiquated term referring to a female of human persuasion, which you appear to be. And distress...well, that seems to illustrate your current situation quite accurately.”

The woman reaches the firearm and realigns herself in an upright, seated position.

“I think I can handle this on my own, thank you very much.” Her tone of voice doesn’t seem to indicate any manner of genuine gratitude, but I think the point is made.

“And that is when you gentlemen showed up, arresting her and myself, along with the employee, who you see, appears to be the cause for all of your recent mysterious disappearances,” I smile at the officer and offer a wink. I feel like I’ve seen Dean respond in this fashion. “You’re welcome.”

The officer studies my face,  opening and closing his mouth without saying anything. He places his palms on his knees to stand, and winces. It seems that up until this moment, he'd forgotten about the assault portion of the night's festivities. With a desolate tone he asks “Mr. Novak, can you tell me why you and Ms. Y/L/N attacked and injured a handful of the responding officers?”

I purse my lips together, thinking carefully.

“I think she really dislikes being called Ma’am.”

-----

Y/N

The metal hinges squeak again, the stream of light flooding into the room taking on an amber glow as the sun begins to set. Blue Eyes shuffles back into the room, his handcuffs tinkling lightly as he perches on the cot beside me. The door slams shut again and I drop my head.

“I’m just letting you know, that if we have to stay the night here, I am not sleeping on that filthy, grimy, urine-drenched concrete floor.”

He just sighs, his shoulders dropping gently, as though exhaustion is beginning to wear on him too.

We sit in uncomfortable silence as I study the intricate patterns in the cracks of the cinder blocks making up those damn walls.

“The officer asked why you and I assaulted them.” His rich, textured timbre startles me and I glance at him to find blue eyes squinting at me curiously.

“And what did you tell them?” I raise an eyebrow, gnawing on my bottom lip.

A slow smile spreads across his face and he looks down at the floor again. “I said I was sure you’d had your reasons.”

“I did. I can’t say they were good, but I had them.” I turn, shifting to face him. “But why did you help? You would never been arrested if you’d stayed out of it.”

Blue Eyes, or Novak the officer had said, tilts his head to the side and he presses his lips together before speaking. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I was hunting a malevolent entity that had been wreaking havoc in the midwest for the last month or so. My capacity for belief is a little broader than most.”

He smiles again, one corner of his mouth pulling inward as though he’s trying to suppress it.

“I was hoping that the last bit of my grace would have been effective in subduing the officers long enough for you to get away.”

“Grace?” I scrunch my nose up, confused.

“Angel’s powers are derived from their grace, but mine was stolen by a sweater-vested megalomaniac trying to take over Heaven. I borrowed the grace of one of my brothers, but it’s fading as are my powers.” He licks his lips and looks at me like he’d just told me he was born in Sheboygan.

I lean forward, not really sure why. “Why didn’t you just get more of the super soldier serum from your brother and power up, Mario?”

Stunned, his mouth opens and closed a few times, but before he can find his words, the door slams open again and we both look up to find the officer standing in the doorway, flanked by two, tall men.

“Well hello, princess.” The man with the green eyes purrs, the wrinkles under his eyes betraying his attempt at keeping a straight face. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Dean…” Novak and I bark, in matching annoyed tones. We freeze, and he turns around slowly to look at me, his features even more befuddled than before.

“Hey, y/n. I’m so glad you’re ok,” Sam stresses the last word, his eyes boring into mine as he sneaks a glance at the officer. “Thank you so much, for finding her, Cas. We were so worried about her when we couldn’t find her this morning!”

“Cas?” The officer barks.

“It’s a family nickname.” Sam smiles.

The officer doesn’t seem convinced and he crosses his arms. “Family huh? I suppose that would be on your mother’s side? Since you all have different last names.”

“Yes,” Novak, or Cas, or whatever his name is says, tentatively, having obviously caught on. “Our mother was quite promiscuous in her youth.”

“Whatever, just please go home, wherever that is, and stay there,” the officer rolls his eyes, unlocking my compatriot’s cuffs and then mine. He turns back to Sam and Dean. “You need to keep better track of your sister, in case she has another manic episode.”

I glare at the Winchesters, neither of whom make eye contact with me as the officer escorts us quickly to the front and out into the late evening air.

I wait until the officer is out of view, and I whirl to face Dean, jabbing him hard in the arm. “Manic episode, Dean. Really?!”

He rubs at his arm dramatically, though I’m sure it’s just for show as Sam chuckles lightly behind me.

“And you,” I spin to face him, poking a finger in his chest, “I’m only here because you two begged me to, seeing as how you’re so busy saving the world all the damn time. You could have at least given me the head’s up you were sending Rain Man here to check in on me.”

“We didn’t. We had no idea Cas was here until he used his one phone call on us,” Sam holds up both hands in a playful surrender before turning to him. “Why didn’t you tell us where you were going?”

Cas clears his throat, his hands resting lightly in the pockets of his trench coat. “I wanted to do something that would prove helpful to you both, and this seemed - though I recognize the egregious error now - to be easy.”

“So…” I muse, “your name is Cas, not Novak; you weren’t sent by Jolly Green and his trusty sidekick, Freckleface Strawberry to check up on me;” I motion behind me toward Sam and Dean respectively, “and you’re an angel?”

“It’s Castiel, but otherwise, yes. That is all correct.” His gaze flicks between the other two men before asking. “How did you come to know the Winchesters?”

“Dean called me ma’am once and I broke his nose.”

Cas turns to Dean, his eyebrows arched incredulously. “You told me you got into a fight at a biker bar, Dean.”

Dean shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and drops his eyes to the ground as he kicks at a clump of grass. “Yeah, well, I mean I didn’t lie…” Dean trails off.

“I’m still pissed about that, too, Winchester.” I frown at him. “That was my happy place and now I’m banned for life thanks to you.”

Dean gawks at me, vaguely horrified. “Me!? You’re mad at me about that?!”

“Alright, listen, we still have a case to finish,” Sam cuts Dean off, fighting down the smile playing at his lips. “I think it might be best though if you and Cas take off and let us clean up. You’re welcome to stay at the bunker for a few days.”

“I would be happy to drive you, in my vehicle if you wish, as it is getting late and as an angel, I do not need sleep,” Cas offers.

As much as I want to argue and stomp my foot about being able to fend for myself, the offer is tempting. “Ok, but I get to pick the tunes and you’re gonna tell me more about this angel business. ‘Sweater-vested megalomaniac’ sounds like a punk band from Seattle and I want to know everything. Savvy?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

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[kusunogatari]

[ First Date ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Alcohol, Gun  ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ]

This isn’t the first time she’s been asked on a date by a patient...but it is the first time she’s said yes.

Most of the time, Ryū follows an unspoken rule: no fraternizing with the people she treats. There has to be a line between the professional and the personal. Not...that she has much of the latter, anyway.

But there’s just...something about this one. He’d been so sweet bringing her those flowers, all blushing and stuttering. Most of those who have tried to step over the line between patient and nurse were more...well, blunt. But not him.

...of course...there’s still something that...worries her. Sure, it’s not too rarely that they have victims of firearm violence. They’re an inner-city clinic, after all. But that’s the part that has her unsure. While he may have been an unlucky bystander...Ryū can’t help but wonder if he’s a bit more involved in such violence than she may have first assumed.

Which, of course, leads her to question how...ethical seeing someone like that would be.

...but, she doesn’t want to make any assumptions. So, for now...she’ll trust her gut: that he’s a good person.

...mostly.

She can’t remember the last time she wore a dress. Tugging at the seams along her hips, Ryū eyes her reflection critically. It’s a simple little black cocktail dress - with a hem just above the knee, a slightly-dipping neckline, and flowy, elbow-length sleeves. And it...might be a little tighter on her than when she got it.

But she really doesn’t have much else...so she’ll just have to make due: hips, chest, and all.

The last thing she does is adorn a little silver jewelry, indulging in a spritz of perfume before pulling up white waves with a few “carefree” stragglers to frame her face. Then she puts a purse over her shoulder (a bit harder to be stolen if it’s hung around her), gathers up her keys, and takes a steadying breath before heading out, locking the door behind her.

...please don’t let me regret this…

Once tucked in her little car, she reviews the address he gave her. Admittedly, she’s not too familiar with a lot of places downtown - she tends to avoid it beyond work. Still, she at least knows the street. Hopefully it won’t take much from there to find where she’s going. Throwing the little rig in gear, she leaves the apartment building’s parking lot and makes her way into the belly of the city.

It’s early evening, the sky dusky and not yet fully dark as she weaves down the busy streets. Parking is probably going to be a nightmare, but...well, it’s too far to walk. Eventually she manages to find a little spot near an alley, skittering into the lights and away from the shadows between the buildings.

As luck would have it, she meets him before the proper door. He’s leaning against a building, almost...looking like he’s gathering his nerve. There’s a look of focus on his face, staring down toward the sidewalk. Almost subconsciously, people give him a wide berth as they pass by, a few sparing glances to him that he doesn’t seem to notice.

Is he...nervous?

She’s not really surprised - after all, given how bashful he’s been before, she hardly expects him to be suave and confident now. But it does help settle some of her own nerves, knowing she’s not the only one who’s a little unsettled in all this.

Before she can stop it, Ryū smiles warmly to herself. Hands clasp at her front, taking a few more steps and tilting her head inquiringly. “...Obito…?”

He gives a start, snapping upright and flushing a light pink. “Huh -? Oh. Er...hi.”

Her smile only grows, a bit endeared at his reaction. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you...I guess we both came from the same direction! It’s...down this way, right?”

“...right.”

A small glint gleams in her eye. “You look awfully spiffy!”

And he does. Not exactly a full suit, but still...nice. A dress shirt is neatly tucked into a nice pair of slacks, which hem just above blacks shoes. Complete with a tie, a jacket tucked over one arm. All his worrying must have made him warm. “Er, thanks.”

Sparing a hand to tuck some hair behind her ear, Ryū then offers, “...so, shall we go? I guess we’re a little early, but...better than being late!”

“R-right.” There’s a pause, and then he fumbles his jacket around to offer her an arm. With how flustered he is, Ryū’s hard-pressed not to giggle. Not at him, but rather...because of him. He’s just so cute! At least his own actions are making it easier not to worry about her own.

“Ne…? No need to be nervous. I’m not gonna bite your head off!”

Obito gives her a glance, clearly not looking so sure. “Yeah. I just, uh…”

Taking his proffered arm, she leans into him a bit, seeing him stiffen. “...hey. You don’t have to try so hard. Just...pretend I’m an old childhood friend! Someone you already know. Would that help?”

For a moment, Obito’s expression becomes...unreadable. And yet almost slightly...pained? But before Ryū can amend, he replies, “...I can...try that, sure.”

She tilts her head curiously, but doesn’t ask. “Okay. Let’s see if we can seated a little early, ne? Then we can have some time to just...sit and chat!”

Obito nods, straightening up a bit before beginning to walk. Ryū follows suit, still on his arm, beaming lightly to herself.

It’s not a hugely fancy place, but it’s clear it was a good idea to make a reservation. Only half-listening as Obito hashes it out with the lady at the greeter’s station, Ryū takes to looking around idly, following as they’re given a table: a little one tucked in a corner. The lighting is rather low, accentuated by candles atop the table. How romantic!

Tucking her skirt as she takes her seat, she watches Obito from the corner of her eye. Rather than across from her, he sits along the side that meets hers. When the server asks for drink orders, she sticks with water despite his inquiring glance.

“Just water?”

“Mhm.”

“What, no wine? Or a cocktail?”

The nurse smiles sheepishly. “I...don’t care much to drink. Especially in a public place. At home, maybe a bit…” Paranoia is a powerful thing, and she’d much prefer to keep her wits about her in a place with strangers. What she sees through her work makes her more than aware her city isn’t the safest. “...besides, I don’t want to miss anything if I get tipsy, ne?”

Obito almost looks close to pouting, but acquiesces, doing the same. There’s an awkward silence for a few ticks before she asks, “I do hope your wound doesn’t bother you…? It healed well?”

“Oh...yeah. It’s fine.” A hand spares to rub subconsciously at the shoulder. Almost before he seems to consider the context, he adds, “I’m used to it.”

Ryū’s brow quickly furrows. “...that’s...unfortunate.”

Seeming to realize what he said, there’s a pause as he fumbles before offering, “I, er...I’m always getting hurt one way or another! Y’know, uh...accident prone.” He glances aside as though in avoidance, but...there’s also a look in his eye that seems to suggest there’s a grain of truth to that.

“...I see…” Taking a moment, Ryū eventually looks up, attempting a humored smile. “Well...I guess it’s a good thing you know a nurse, ne?”

He startles a bit, as though not expecting that reaction. Glancing to her, there’s another hesitation before he replies, “...I guess so.”

Slowly at first, conversation picks up from there, even once they order and receive their food. But no matter their chatting, there’s still a degree of Obito’s jitteriness that just...won’t go away. Is he really this nervous? Or is there something else going on? Ryū listens quietly whenever he speaks, doing her best to watch his mannerisms. Maybe he’s got some kind of...anxiety disorder? He’s so jumpy…

Eventually though, they finish their meal, and Ryū insists on declining dessert. “Maybe something later - I don’t want to overdo it and be miserable!”

From there, they work their way to one of the several cinemas the city hosts, perusing the selection. Admittedly, she’s not too familiar with anything playing, and Obito doesn’t seem to be either. So, they pick one at random, with a relatively quick starting time, skipping snacks and simply taking their seats about two thirds up from the front.

While advertisements play, Obito seems to just keep...fidgeting. After several inquiring glances to no avail, Ryū looks to the armrest between them before just...tucking it back up between the seats.

“...what are y-?”

With that out of the way, she nestles down in her seat more and...snuggles up against his shoulder with a light sigh. For a moment he goes stiff, clearly unsure what to do. But eventually, an arm carefully makes its way around the small of her back, prompting a little more settling before they both go still, and the lights go dark.

Thankfully the opening music means she can’t hear his loud, nervous gulp.

Admittedly, it’s...not much of a thriller. Not really any action, and more like...a slice of life movie. But about halfway through, the plot starts to get sad. And then sadder. Watching with a brow wilted in sympathy for the characters, it takes a while for Ryū to notice Obito sniffling. A look up prompts a small start.

He’s crying?!

There’s a long moment where she just sort of...stares, not sure what to do. He hasn’t noticed her yet, too fixated on the screen and its plot. Should she...suggest they leave? She doesn’t want him to cry! But...well, she supposes that means he’s at least invested, even if maybe it’s not something to enjoy if it’s making him sad. So, she just snuggles back down along his shoulder until it ends.

The lights then slowly come back up, people milling about as they ready to leave. But Ryū isn’t in a hurry, preferring to wait and have a clear path out. At first she pretends not to notice him rubbing a sleeve at his cheeks, but eventually looks to him sheepishly. “...are you all right? I’m sorry - I didn’t realize it would be sad…”

“No, no...it’s fine…” He gives another loud sniff, prompting a whisper-soft giggle from his date. “I don’t...usually do that -”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t bottle it up,” she chirps lightly in reply. “Sometimes it’s just...good to have a little cry, ne?” If she’s honest with herself, in a way she’s glad he did - it lets her judge his character a little better. After all, a man who can cry at a movie is one who’s a little more...suited to her tastes. You know - sensitive!

He pauses at that, looking a little unsure...until she gives his nearer cheek a peck, flushing it pink as he startles.

“You missed one,” she teases about his tears, giving him a warm smile. By then, the theater’s nearly empty, so she stands and tugs his hand. “C’mon!”

He stutters and stumbles for a moment, but lets her lead as they head back out into the chill of the evening. By now it’s fully dark, even if the city lights try and say otherwise. Obito gives her another glance as Ryū holds his arm hostage, leaned into him again with a contented hum. There’s a funny, swelling feeling in his chest that he decides is a good thing.

“So...what now? It’s not too late, and I have the day off tomorrow.”

“Er...we could...walk around…?”

“Okay!” She’s quick to agree, even though her outer arm - that without an Obito to snuggle up against - is getting rather cold.

To Obito’s credit, it doesn’t take him long to notice. After managing to wriggle out of her grip despite her questioning, he takes his jacket and drapes it over her shoulders, adjusting it a bit at her front and holding the hems as they sort of just...stare at each other for a moment.

Then the tension seems to break, and they both glance aside with nervous laughter. “...that’s better,” she concedes, holding the front closed with a hand, the other retaking his. They keep walking aimlessly, Obito glancing over several times as though not quite believing what he sees, Ryū just beaming happily against his side.

For a while, she doesn’t seem to pay their path much mind...but eventually notices that Obito’s guidance is rather...all over the place. They weave to and fro across the street, as though skirting something. She tries to see what, but...can’t really make out a pattern. It’s not until they hurry past a parked police car that she gives him a curious glance. Is he…?

The worry from earlier - before she left home - wriggles back to life in her gut.

“Is...something wrong, Obito?”

“Huh? Wrong? Eh...no.”

The feeling works its way into her expression. “...are you sure…? We can -”

“I just, er...you know...I -”

“Obito.” Ryū comes to a stop, prompting him to do the same. Greys give him an imploring look. “...what’s wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“...when you came into the clinic...who shot you?”

“I -”

“Who shot you, Obito?”

They reach an impasse, and then...he wilts. “...it was...someone I owed some money to.” He doesn’t look keen on elaborating.

Ryū softens. “...is that why...you’re so nervous…?”

No reply.

“...are you in trouble…?”

“...I…”

She keeps staring despite his look aside before sighing, her own gaze dropping. “...come on.”

“Wh-?”

She doesn’t explain, tugging him forward despite his questions. And she doesn’t stop until she pushes her way through a door that dings pleasantly. Beyond, behind a counter, a pair of apron-clad people greet them jovially. “The usual, please.” Coming to a stop, Ryū turns around to face Obito, giving him a pointed look. “...go pick something.”

“...I -?”

“Anything you want.”

He looks completely lost. Glancing to the displays, he gives her one last confused look before awkwardly going to peruse a selection of...ice cream.

In the meantime, Ryū accepts her own, offering a good bit of money and insisting anything extra be put on her tab. Apparently she’s a regular...which makes sense, given they’re only about a block from the clinic now, after all their walking.

She takes a seat near a window, absently lapping at her cone and watching him. The longer he agonizes, the more nervous he seems to get, eventually accepting an offer of sampling a few things. After several, he picks one out, going to pay before one of the employees shakes their head and points to her. He clearly makes to argue, going so far as to pull out his wallet, but they just laugh and insist, handing over the treat. A pause…and then he accepts, turning to her with a look that’s almost like a pout.

...it’s then she makes up her mind.

Obito gingerly sits in the chair opposite her, staring at his ice cream. “...I could have paid for it.”

“I know.”

“...why did you...bring me here?”

There’s quiet as she seems to think, still licking her ice cream. “...I was testing you.”

“...testing me…?”

“...I don’t know what you do. I don’t know why. But…” She considers her cone for a moment. “...I find it very hard to believe that someone who cries at sad movies...and gives a girl his jacket when it’s cold...and gets flustered over being given ice cream...can be a bad person.”

Obito seems to stiffen for a moment.

“...so, you passed my test,” she announces as-a-matter-of-factly, tending to her ice cream for a moment. “...you better eat that, or it’s going to melt all over your pants.”

“Ah!”

They don’t leave until they’re done (Obito’s pants making it out without a single drip). Ryū still holds his jacket with one hand, the other loosely intertwining a few fingers with his. A glance to a nearby bank’s scrolling billboard reveals that it’s gotten rather late. “...well...I guess we should probably head home, ne?”

“Yeah…”

“I had a lot of fun! Though I still feel bad the movie made you cry…”

“I wasn’t crying...the theater was just very dusty. Made my eyes water.”

Ryū laughs into her palm. “Mhm…”

“...so…”

“Hm?”

Obito hesitates to a stop as they approach her car, drawing her gaze. “Could...could we, maybe...do this again? Well, not this exactly, that would be boring...unless you want to! I -”

“Obito.”

He clams up with a snap of his jaw as she lightly chides him.

Giving him an exasperated smile, she steps up a bit, hand still in his. “...you think too much.” With that, she rises up on her toes to match lips to his softly, lingering for several seconds before easing back. “...we can definitely do this again.”

Eyes wide and face flushed, he just sort of...stares for a moment.

“I’ll text you tomorrow. Actually…no. When I get home. To let you know I made it okay.” A digit gently pokes his chest. “And you do the same, so I don’t have to worry.”

“...y-yes ma’am.”

She snorts. “...tomorrow, we’ll see about arranging another date. But for now...goodnight.”

“Uh huh…” Sounding a little dazed, he lets her withdraw her hand, only seeming to snap back to it when she hands him his jacket. “You don’t...need it?”

“It’s not far to home, and I can turn on the heat in the car. Besides, you still need to walk to yours, ne?” An eye winks. “...I’ll steal it again next time.”

Another blush.

Waving, she steps into her car, turning the engine and eventually pulling from the curb and into the night.

Obito watches her go until she’s lost in the sea of tail lights. Glancing to his jacket - and then around guardedly - lips purse for a moment before lifting the garment to his nose with closed eyes.

It smells like her…

Well...it’ll have to do. Until he sees her again.

     I guess you’ve technically already read and reacted to this but I’m gonna put ANs anyway =P      This was super fun to write (and super late I’m sorry OTL) - honestly little slice of life fics are some of my favorites to do! Your prompt was adorable and I was grinnin’ the whole time I was writing xD Once I get Mey’s drabble done and am all caught up, I can start on some other AU ideas I’ve been hoarding :3c       But for now, you’ll have to just content yourself with this. And the like dozen-odd other fics I’ve written for these dorks, I love them so much uwu

[wildfluffyappeared]

Ayyyy I wrote a short little introductory piece that introduces my two OCs into the club! This is written from Kain’s POV.

I relax in my room, reading. I’m rereading one of my favorite novels, The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. High fantasy has always been one of my favorite genres, and my cousin Yuri recommended this to me a year or so ago. She usually reads horror, but she always talks about how a truly good fantasy story that takes you to another world can be just as good. I don’t really get all the pretentious shit she goes on about sometimes, but this really is a good book, so I can’t really be too annoyed about it.

Suddenly, I hear a vibration. I check my phone to see a text from my best friend, Lucidia.

[Make sure to get to bed early tonight, Kain! We have a big day tomorrow, joining the Literature Club! Don’t forget!] the screen reads.

I roll my eyes. Lucie has been nagging me ever since the festival to join a club. She keeps saying I’m going to end up as a NEET if I don’t join one soon. I finally caved and told her I’d join the Literature Club, just to shut her up. It was the first club I thought of, because Yuri’s in it. But, would you believe it, she said she’d join too! I wonder if she actually cares about literature, or if she just wants to make sure I’m actually doing it. Probably the latter… But after all, literature is fun, so it probably won’t be that bad.

[Yeah yeah fine, I’m going to bed,] I text back. She means well, but she’s really annoying sometimes. I know she’ll kick my ass tomorrow if I don’t go to bed soon, so I get up and start getting ready for bed.

***

Well, the school day is over. I guess we’re going to the Literature Club… I walk out into the hallway, to find Lucie already waiting for me. “Come on, let’s go! I’ve got the room number on this flyer,” Lucie says energetically. I wish I could be this enthusiastic, to be honest.

We head across the school towards the third-year classrooms, and before long, we’ve arrived outside the door. Lucie knocks on the door firmly. The discussion behind the door suddenly goes silent, before a bubbly happy voice speaks up. “Come in!” the voice exclaims.

Lucie opens the door and primly strides in. I casually stroll in behind her, and look around the room. There’s Yuri, sitting in the corner reading a book with a pink-haired girl I’ve seen her with a couple times; I guess that must be Natsuki, her girlfriend. Yuri never really stops talking about Natsuki and how much she loves her, it’s really adorable. Anyway, Yuri’s eyes light up with recognition as she sees me, and she smiles. Then there’s a girl with coral-colored hair with a big red bow in it, who’s beaming at us. Next to her is a guy with brown hair and golden-colored eyes. Wow, he’s fucking gorgeous… probably straight though, I think to myself. Lastly, there’s a girl sitting by herself. She’s got long brown hair and green eyes that seem… piercing, almost. And her expression is unusual. She looks… shocked, almost disturbed, to see us. What’s her problem…?

“Oh, hello!” the girl with the coral hair speaks up. I notice her voice is the one we heard from the hall. “Welcome to the Literature Club! How can we help you?” she asks with a smile.

“Hi, my name is Lucidia, and this is my friend Kain,” Lucie says authoritatively. “We’re here to inquire about joining the club.”

The coral-haired girl’s eyes light up, and she shouts, “Really? Yay! Monika, we’ve got new members!” She looks over at the girl with the brown hair. Her name is Monika? Yeah, I remember hearing about her. She’s a pretty popular girl in our grade, but I never really hung with that crowd, so I never really got to know her.

“O-oh, yes, thanks for alerting me, Sayori,” Monika responded. So the other girl’s name is Sayori. Okay. So that’s everyone’s name except the cute boy next to Sayori. “Well, hello,” she continues. She still looks confused by our presence, but who knows, maybe she’s just having an off day or something?

“So let me introduce you to everyone. I’m Monika, the club president! Over here is my vice president, Sayori,” she points to the coral-haired girl, “our newest member, MC,” pointing to the boy, “and over in the corner we have Yuri, and Natsuki.”

“Yeah, I already know Yuri,” I speak up. “She’s my cousin.”

Yuri nods happily and says, “Kain is a very avid reader! I think he’ll be a good fit for the club.” Whew, putting a little too much faith in me there, cousin. I like reading, but I wouldn’t consider myself an “avid” anything. Except maybe an avid slacker.

Monika nods at Yuri. “Ah, I see! Interesting. Lucidia, Kain, I think we’d love to have you join! Let me just take you two outside to fill out some preliminary club paperwork without disturbing anyone’s reading, okay?” she asks with a kind of… unsettling grin.

Lucie doesn’t seem to have noticed Monika’s weird behavior, as she says, “Alright! Let’s go then,” and leads the way to the door. It’s funny how she always makes a point of taking the lead in every situation. Even in this one, where Monika should be leading as the president of the club. Those two are not going to get along…

Anyway, we go outside, and Monika closes the door behind us—

Whoa. What the fuck is going on? The entire world looks like it’s breaking into fragments around us. Monika’s the only thing that looks stable…

“Who are you?” she asks, her voice sounding distorted. I look over at Lucie. Her face looks absolutely stunned, and she remains silent.

“How did you get into this game? Were you coded here? I don’t see character files for you. Are you sentient like me? Do you understand the nature of this world?” Monika growls at us. “Are you here to harm my girls? Or are you independent creations of the game?”

“W-what are you talking about…?” Lucie stutters. When she’s really afraid, her stutter comes back and she tends to repeat herself a lot. She’s had it ever since we were kids, but she keeps it under control most of the time. But at moments like this, when she’s terrified, she completely loses her composure. “W-we aren’t… we d-don’t want to h-h-hurt anyone, what are you t-talking about….?”

“Yeah, what’s the big idea?” I ask angrily. I’m scared as fuck too, to be entirely honest, but I’m a lot better at forcing myself to remain calm and roll with the punches. “What do you mean, game? We’re not playing any games, we’re just here trying to join a goddamn literature club and you’re being creepy as fuck.”

Monika’s expression seems to change after she watches us for a moment. “Hmm… I believe you. But I still don’t know how you got here. I need to look into this some more. In the meantime, I’m sorry for having scared you like this. You won’t remember any of this, but thanks for at least speaking to me. I won’t let any harm come to you two either.”

We aren’t going to remember this? She won’t let any harm come to us? What the fuck is she talking aboutttttttttt

ĚŰČçÌŖŚµŭò¨ÝġÆÁĥĖðĨ¾½¥§ŧ©ßĈůŷÀđÿĿŢŅÖßĶ

“Kain is a very avid reader! I think he’ll be a good fit for the club,” Yuri says with a smile. Whew, putting a little too much faith in me there, cousin. I like reading, but I wouldn’t consider myself an “avid” anything. Except maybe an avid slacker.

…Wait, that seems vaguely familiar. Did we already…? Nah, just déjà vu.

“Ah, I see!” Monika says with a smile, nodding in Yuri’s direction. “Lucidia, Kain, I think we’d love to have you join! In fact, it’s about time for all of us to share poems! Every day, we write a new poem and bring it in to share with everyone!” She grins and tilts slightly at the waist. “It’s a fun exercise that helps us get to know each other better, and also to enjoy literature!”

I look over at Lucie. Oh no… she’s got that bossy bitch-face on again. She’s going to start trying to throw her inflated ego around and dominate the conversation like she always does when she doesn’t like something… she always does this when she doesn’t get her way. I think it comes from the fact that her dad is rich as hell, but I’d never say that to her; I don’t particularly want to get smacked.

“Umm… I don’t mean to criticize the way you run your club or anything, Monika, but that doesn’t seem like a very efficient system to me. It seems to me that creative burnout could easily set in soon, and everyone would be tired of writing poetry,” she says with her bossy tone.

Monika’s expression changes. She looks confused, almost like she’s not used to being challenged. “W-well…” she mutters. “It’s never been a problem before…”

Sayori speaks up then, an almost sort of angry expression on her face. “Yeah! Monika’s a great leader, and we all have a wonderful time here! Don’t be mean, Lucidia!” Natsuki and Yuri nod in agreement. I never expected Sayori to be the assertive one… but I guess that’s why she’s Vice President.

“Luce, come on, don’t be like that. We just joined. I bet they know what works for the club better than we do, huh?” I say calmingly. That’s the trick with Lucie; when she gets like this, just appeal to her sense of reason and she’ll realize what a bitch she’s being.

“O-oh… You’re right, Kain, I’m sorry…” she mumbles. “I’m so sorry, everyone! I don’t always think before I speak, and sometimes I can be kind of bossy… I didn’t mean to hurt anyone’s feelings…” Okay good, that was the reaction I was hoping for.

Sayori grins at Lucie. “It’s okay! Happens to the best of us! Even Yuri sometimes speaks before she thinks, and she’s an amazing person!” Yuri blushes and hides her face behind her hair as Sayori says that. It’s true that Yuri is sometimes very blunt with her thoughts, but saying that so plainly… Something tells me Sayori doesn’t always think before she speaks either, but it’s kind of endearing. MC smiles at her when she says that. Yep, definitely straight, he loves her, I think to myself with a slight sense of disappointment. But it’s fine, of course. We sit around the table and the others pull their poems out. I guess it’s time to get to know everyone else…

[dadvans]

hot fireman sidney crosby - 2

oh boy, well. here’s 5,000 words of pure self-indulgent nonsense! previously: [insp.] [1] 

MALKIN 71

At the beginning of his four-day shifts, Sidney usually likes to get to the station an hour early with fresh carafes of coffee that come from the coffee shop down the street.  Sidney likes being liked, and has found out it’s the easy things over the years that endear his men to him and earn their trust; coffee a step up from the mud the ancient pot at the engine house spits out is a kindness that Sidney can afford a couple times a month, and it’s earned him the respect and loyalty of anyone who has ever had to go seventy-two hours with nothing but Folgers.  

It’s the first week of August.  The sun comes up at five and Sidney wakes up with it and drives with his windows down to smell the grass-sweet air that comes with summer while it’s still cool, before the heat catches up with the morning.  It’s quiet this early, and Sidney loves it, yearns for it in a way he never would have thought possible when he was a lonely kid, before he signed up for a lifetime of sirens and alarms and guys who play grab ass in the communal showers.  The barista at the coffee shop unlocks the doors as he parks, and when he gets inside it’s quiet there too, the music still off, no line of people mumbling sleep soft to wait behind, just the bell chiming as he walks in.

“Just gimme a sec,” says the girl behind the counter, rubbing the top of her register.  She’s got his carafes ready and waiting, sleeves of cups and packets of sugar and creamer that he doesn’t need but can add to the communal drawer back at the station.  “My computer’s sleepy this morning too.”

Sidney smiles at her and fumbles for his phone, because even years of dealing with the public have left him absolutely inept at small talk.  She has her own mug of coffee and sips at it, not seeming to mind.  

The register finally boots up and he pays.  While he’s scooping everything up in his arms, the bell over the front door rings again.

In walks the hottest, weirdest looking guy that Sidney has ever seen.  A complete stranger--well, he half walks in; he’s standing still in the doorway like a cat Sidney had as a kid, one that could never decide if she wanted to be inside or outside, so she would just sit in the open frame of their sliding back door and cry.  Sidney says, “huh,” trips over himself while looking at the guy, and drops a sleeve of coffee cups on the floor.  

“You okay?” the guy asks.  Thick accent, deep voice, like water getting sucked down a drain.  He’s still standing in the doorway, oh, probably holding it open for Sid who had his arms full.  Sidney picks the sleeve up and feels like a dumbass and smiles and does not look the guy in the eyes as he walks past.

“Yeah,” he says.  “Thanks.”

The guy hums.  Sidney’s stomach churns.  He doesn’t let himself stare until he’s out of the shop and he can see the guy standing at the counter, smiling up at the menu and rubbing at his chin with one big hand.  Sidney hadn’t noticed the hands before, just that he was all legs in shorts that would be short on a normal person but are tiny on him, and a long-sleeved blue warm-up shirt from Pitt.  God, he’s a monster, Sidney tries not to think, and he blindly fumbles for his keys so he can get the fuck out of here and go to work, but he can’t stop staring.  The guy turns to the barista and through the windows Sidney can see the name MALKIN stretched across his shoulders with the number 71 underneath.

Oh, Sidney thinks, and he files it away for much, much later.

Sidney doesn’t date and he doesn’t sleep with anyone he knows in town.  That’s what conferences are for.  He has conferences in Philly, and conferences in New York City, safety seminars and management training in Atlanta and Los Angeles and Denver.  He’ll download Grindr for a night and find some dude’s dick to suck, some guy to hold down in his hotel room and use all the strength he’s built up saving lives and serving his community to pin someone faceless to his bed until he’s coming red-faced into the sweat at their hairline.

He learned when he was little that the things you love are the first thing that someone uses against you, and looking at another boy too long and too openly in the locker room would get you called a faggot at lunch, and that the way he felt about people--strongly--was too real, realer than every other real thing that he let people tear away from him.  So he’s never let himself love anyone for keeps, and no one’s ever been able to hold it against him.

It doesn’t stop him from looking, though.

GENO

Halfway through September the local high school spends a day bringing the new freshman class in groups to tour the fire station.  It has something to do with accountability and community service and fire safety.  Sidney was freaked out the first few years, when he was still a teenager and self-conscious and shy until he realized that most fourteen-year-olds either didn’t give a shit, or they were still kids who just wanted to ride in the fire truck and make the siren go off or slide down the fire pole.  And kids can be shits, but they’re still kids, and Sidney’s a whole grown-ass man who can take care of himself.

So he actually kind of likes the field trip days.  Hell, some of the kids actually think he’s cool and look at him with big hero eyes the same way he used to be when he was their age, and isn’t that something.  He finds himself having fun even, trying to show off maybe, greeting kids by coming down the fire pole himself just to hear them collectively whoa about it.

He’s seen Malkin 71 from the coffee shop frequently around town from a distance for the past month; leaning against bike racks talking with friends outside of bars, on his morning runs when Sidney’s driving to the station, leading the high school cross country team around town after school gets out and more than once using an arm to clothesline a student about to run into traffic.  Sidney hasn’t done any sleuthing besides taking the time to notice what should seem fairly obvious about a new person in a small town, but he still feels unsettled with the way he can pick out Malkin 71 in a crowd the way most people can find the big dipper in a sky full of stars.

The second time they’re face to face is when Sidney comes down the fire pole to greet the freshman tour group and sees him right there, a head and some change around the crowd.  He’s been laughing, both of his arms wrapped playfully around some students’ necks in an arm lock in mock-condescension--chaperone, Sidney’s mind unhelpfully adds to his mental file, right underneath high school teacher? and sleepy eyes.  He stops laughing when he sees Sidney.

Sidney smiles despite himself, his weird, too-big nervous smile that he’s self-conscious about but can’t help when he feels like he’s gotta carry the weight of the whole room.  He starts talking and hopes that whatever comes out of his mouth makes sense, his eyes flickering over Malkin 71 every three seconds until he’s done and Schultz and Dumo take the group away to slobber all over some CPR dummies.  One of the kids says something snarky on the way out, and Malkin 71 steps on the back of his shoe completely on purpose, and the kid trips forward.

“Geno!” the kid says, and Sidney’s almost worried for a second until the kid starts laughing, and knocks him on the chest lightly with the back of his hand.

“What?” Geno replies, innocent enough, pulling him close by the shoulder.  “Maybe not be so clumsy?”

Geno, Geno, Geno, Sidney repeats in his head, like a password, like a secret, like the combination to a safe.

MR. MALKIN

Rotary meetings are Wednesday afternoons, and Sidney usually goes to represent the district, because Mario is too busy with other shit.  Sidney owns one suit, and he’s owned it for seven years and he doesn’t wear it hardly ever, but he’ll wear it to Rotary.  It’s not the most expensive suit, but it’s got some flex to it, which has been great as Sidney’s grown into his body and muscle over the years and stretched out the thighs.  The jacket has become too tight through the shoulders though, and the back cut fans out awkwardly over his fireman butt, so he’s starting to wonder if he should just give up and toss it out and wear the same starched shirt and slacks he wears every other day to the office.

Geno is sitting at one of the tables when he walks into the banquet room, and Sidney instantly has sweaty palms, and finds himself fiddling with the hem of his jacket.  Geno’s also wearing a suit, but Sidney can tell it actually fits him even though Geno’s just sitting down, thanking the girl pouring him a glass of water.  

He’s sitting at Sidney’s usual table.  Fuck, Sidney thinks, and counts to five and tries to contort his face into some friendly expression and not lust-derived terror, and goes to sit down.  

“Fire Captain Sidney Crosby!” Geno greets him, which oh no, is so much worse than Sidney imagined.  

“Yeah, I, uh.  Hi,” Sidney says lamely, and he stares at Geno’s name tag which has EVGENI MALKIN scribbled on it in bold, red sharpie.  Did he mishear, back at the fire station?  “Hi, Mr. Malkin.”

“You maybe not remember me, I’m new teacher at high school!  I bring freshman to station on field trip,” Mr. Malkin says.

“No, I remember you,” Sidney says, which is stupid because they saw each other for maybe five minutes that day, so he says, “you tripped a student,” because he’s an idiot.

Mr. Malkin’s eyes go wide, and he stiffens slightly through the shoulders, embarrassed.

“It was funny,” Sidney continues, because he’s terrible at this.  Apparently it’s the right thing, because Mr. Malkin warms up at it.  He gives Sidney a Cheshire Cat grin and looks like he’s about to say something else when they’re both interrupted by the assisted living director who wants Sidney’s attention before the meeting starts.  They don’t get the opportunity to pick up the conversation again, as Mr. Malkin is introduced as such: today’s guest, a new staff member filling in multiple vacancies left by recent budget cuts at the high school; athletic director, phys ed teacher, varsity cross country coach.  

“Haha, go Pens!” Mr. Malkin says, getting up in front of the group and flashing his polo with the high school mascot above his name tag, before bringing up a fundraiser the school is having so they can afford new gym equipment.  He seems more nervous talking in front of adults than he does in front of kids, which is endearing in its own awful way, but everyone in the room still laughs at all the right places during his speech, and crowd him to ask questions when the meeting lets out.  

Sidney’s type has always been the popular boy.

He leaves without saying goodbye, not wanting to take up any more of Mr. Malkin’s time for selfish, personal reasons, so he lets himself out the back quietly.  When he looks up from the doorway this time though, he sees Mr. Malkin a head taller than everyone across the room watching him leave.

GENO, AGAIN

“‘Geno,’” Mr. Malkin clarifies at the charity ball, “is nickname.”

He twirls Sidney out then on the dance floor, before reeling him back in.

It’s Sidney and Kris’s turn to make dinner at the station, so around three they pile into Sidney’s car after doing routine inspections to go to the grocery store.  They’re halfway through another four day shift, and it’s the dead cold heart of January, so Sidney is thinking something warm and filling and easy like chili.  

He doesn’t expect to see Geno outside the IGA with a small army of girls selling cookies.

“Firemen! Come buy cookies for the station!” Geno calls out to them shamelessly across the parking lot, waving a mittened hand at them.  He’s wearing several layers, a hoodie and a scarf underneath a peacoat that makes him look thicker and more inviting than usual, soft.  His nose is red, and so are the tips of his ears that poke out from underneath his beanie.  The girls in front of him are doing high-knees and running in place to keep warm, no doubt Geno’s idea.  

“Geno,” Sidney greets when they make it across the parking lot.  “What are you doing here?”

“I’m scout mom,” Geno replies, gesturing at the girls before him.  “Trying to sell cookies so girls can go to camp in the summer.  How many you boys wanna buy, one hundred?  Three hundred boxes?  Many hungry boys at the fire station.”

It’s true.  Sidney’s cooked in serving sizes upward of fifty before, and it still hasn’t been enough.  He laughs.  

“Get me some thin mints,” Kris says.  “I’m going inside.  It’s freezing.”

He pats Sidney on the shoulder, and Sidney shakes his head and looks down at the plastic fold-up table with its Dollar Tree plastic checkered cloth and several colorful boxes displaying different types of cookies.  He’s always been a tagalongs guy.  “Three hundred, huh?”

“Please, Sidney, look at my girls, so cold!  So sad!  Want to get out of cold and go to summer camp in June and become empowered women!”  Geno pleads, and leans down to the girls and loudly whispers,  “Look colder!  Look sadder!”

The girls instantly turn their deepest, saddest pouts on him, some chattering their teeth loudly, and Geno stays down on their level and sticks out his fat bottom lip too.

Sidney’s a sucker.  

“Fine, I’ll take whatever you guys got.”  The girls cheer, and Sidney wonders how he’s going to explain this to Kris when he meets up with him in the store. “But you’re helping me load it in the car.”

“Of course,” Geno says, like it was a given.

“We take credit card,” one of the older girls says, handing him a phone with a square reader plugged into the top.  

Geno lets the girls wait in his own car, a large Explorer, while it warms up and he gets a grocery cart to load boxes and boxes of girl scout cookies into the back of Sidney’s station van.  

“You make lots of kids really happy,” Geno tells him, passing him the last box of trefoils, which even between twenty-something ravenous guys, they’ll probably be sitting on for at least a month.  

“Yeah, yeah,” Sidney says.  “You don’t need to sell me on it any more than you already have.  I bought the cookies.  Anything else?”

“Coffee, maybe?  Or beer, sometime,” Geno replies, pushing his hands into his pockets.  Sidney freezes from where he’s closing the hatchback of the trunk, before slamming it harder than necessary.  Has he been so easy to read?  Shit, he thinks.

“Uh,” he says.

“My girls need so many badges, like Respect Authority, First Aid,” Geno continues.  “I’m thinking for a bit we organize a trip to the station.  You guys have CPR classes, stuff like that?”

“You can find all the information for our CPR classes on our website,” Sidney says automatically.  The relief cuts through him like a sharp knife.  He’s always wanted the idea of someone, but he’s never wanted a person specifically the way he finds himself wanting Geno, and the only thing worse than being nobody at all to Geno would be to find out that Geno wanted him back and not knowing what to do with it.  

Geno is looking at him expectantly though.

“I don’t get off--I don’t have another day off until Friday,” Sidney says nervously, not knowing how else to fill up the silence.

“Perfect!  I coach kids until seven but then I’m free for whole weekend.  You want go get beers, talk about fun events?”  Geno looks so hopeful.  His face opens up with every feeling he has, it seems like, in a way Sidney’s always thought he’s had to reign in.  “Nine, you think?”

Sidney should make an excuse.  Sidney should tell him no.

“Nine sounds perfect, yeah.”

ZHENYA

Geno’s already holding an empty pint glass when Sidney gets to the bar, foam lacing up the sides as he traces one of his agonizingly long fingers around the rim and talks to some guy sitting at the table with him.  Sidney doesn’t know if he should interrupt, because they look pretty deep into it, but Geno spots him soon enough and waves him over enthusiastically.  

“I’ll take another please,” he says, handing his glass to Sidney when Sidney gets to the table, and the other guy laughs.  

“Don’t let Zhenya get his way, or he’ll never let up,” says Other Guy, pushing Geno’s hand away.

“Yeah, so I found out,” Sidney says, sitting down across from them.  No one has let him live down the girl scout cookie purchase at the station, even though they’ve gone through a quarter of them in the past few days.  The guy laughs.

“Sergei,” he says, reaching out for a handshake.  

Sidney takes it.  “Sidney.”

“Trust me, I know,” Sergei replies.  “You made my daughters very happy buying all their cookies.  And my wife buys your calendar every year.”

“Oh gosh,” Sidney says.  His whole body burns, mortified.  “I didn’t know people bought those.”

He does know, actually.  He oversees the department budget and even though it’s Kris’s wife who does the calendars every year, he sees the kind of revenue they pull.  It’s a little ridiculous, and Sidney doesn’t really understand it, because it’s not like the guys he works with are super models.  Everyone Sidney works with has always been strictly off limits to him, but even if they weren’t, most of them are pretty gross.  He had sort of assumed that Catherine didn’t use any pictures from their actual department.

“Before I get my own apartment, I’m stay with Sergei last summer when I move here.  His wife keeps calendar up in office where I sleep every night,” Geno says casually, like he’s not ruining Sidney’s entire life right now.  “First time I see you was in coffee shop, you probably don’t remember, but I’m see you and think, ‘oh, Mr. August!  Local celebrity!’”

“Really?” Sidney says instead of oh no.  He hasn’t seen the picture, but he can guess--Catherine had him sweating, stripped down to his suspenders in front of a controlled fire, doing really stupid poses with an axe.  He’d kept having to brush his bangs out of his face and the sweat dripping from his brow, and she had just told him yes, lovely, keep it coming, and he had just assumed she was saying those things because she’s a nice person.

“Zhenya asked if he could keep it when he moved out,” Sergei says, teasing, and Geno elbows him in a way that looks a little more mean than fond.  “Fine, fine, I’ll go get more drinks.  What do you want, Sidney?”

Sidney wants to die, but he just says, “whatever you guys are having is fine.”

Geno takes Sergei’s absence as an opportunity to pull up a very meticulous calendar on his phone to talk about scheduling and Sidney is so thankful.  He is very specific about getting Sidney to personally lead the classes and work with the girls, which is fine and understandable, even if Sidney hasn’t done that sort of thing on a regular basis in years like some of the other guys.  He understands he’s a good role model in town and could recite CPR instructions in his sleep.  It’s fine.  

Sergei comes back with a pitcher of beer and they split it, coordinating with him whether the girls have this or that weekend free, if they can take this afternoon off school for a job shadow and will Ksenia please make them all lunch, Geno included.  Sergei gets a call from her no more than five minutes later and says, “I’ll ask,” but then returns to the table and says, “she’ll make you lunch, but only if I come home early for dad duty.”

“So boring,” Geno says. “Have her make enough for Sidney too.”

“You’re pushing it,” Sergei says, fondly.  He claps Sidney on the shoulder.  “Nice seeing you.  Keep an eye on Zhenya, will you?”

“Sure,” Sidney says, even though he should be going.  His beer is almost gone, and the pitcher is empty.  He should go home and get settled in bed with a book, maybe jerk off and get over himself.  

He should, but he won’t.

Geno says, “I’ll get next round.”

He comes back with another pitcher.  Sidney’s not going to be able to drive home, already a lightweight, but also too cautious of the law with a company vehicle.  People will see it parked in the same spot tomorrow morning and he hopes they won’t talk.

“Why you look so worried, Sidney?  Probably you need more to drink, here,” Geno says, topping off Sidney’s glass at looking at him expectantly.  Sidney laughs, and takes a big gulp.

“I guess I do worry a lot,” he says, because he does.  

“Fire captain job very stressful, yes?”  Geno says, and Sidney laughs again and says, “yes,” because it’s incredibly stressful, and all of a sudden his mouth is opening up and he’s telling Geno all about it, all of the hard things and weird things and probably boring things that Geno could give a shit about, but Geno listens anyway.  Geno even laughs, and makes noises of agreement, and says things like, “sounds very hard.”

“It’s a tough job, but it’s worth it,” Sidney says, four beers deep now and hot around the eyes and feeling the confidence of his buzz wrap around him like a blanket.

“Yes, job, obviously, we already agree job is hard, but also being in own head all the time, Sid!  How do you handle all that?  Think so much about what others think about you, spend so much time thinking for everyone else.  Of course you want die from stress sometimes,” Geno replies, and he says it so easily.  He must be like this with his students too, listening and relating and that’s probably another reason why they love him.  He’s nice.  God, he’s so nice.

“I mean, well, yeah,” Sidney says, not knowing what else there is.

Geno laughs.  “Poor baby.”

“What about you?  You know, you do a lot too, it can’t be easy, uh-- school, and coaching, and running those fundraisers and being Sergei’s daughter’s troop leader, it’s gotta be--Aren’t you stressed? just running around all the time, everywhere all at once.”

“Maybe I not do so much, I get bored, you know?  I get in trouble,” Geno says, smiling, and he sounds dangerous.  Sidney wants to run toward him like a house on fire.

“You can’t be trouble, everyone loves you,” Sidney says instead.  “You could never, you’d--I mean, your students look up to you, your friends give you nicknames, call you ‘Geno,’ and uh, what did Sergei call you?  Zhenya.”

“Zhenya,” Geno agrees, but he stops smiling.

“What’s that mean?”

Geno fidgets, wipes at the condensation on his pint glass. “Just uh, Russian thing.  Sergei and I know each other long time, so he uses a nickname like, it’s close friend thing?”

“Oh,” Sidney says, and shakes his head. “So many nicknames.”

“Jealous?” Geno asks, leaning forward.

“What? No, I mean,” Sidney replies, and it’s like--he never really had nicknames or anything.  When he was a rookie, the older guys at the station would call him “Sid the Kid,” but he grew out of it pretty fast, and it’s never really been like, a thing that he’s needed.

“Not of nicknames,” Geno says, snorting.  “You jealous I get so much attention?  Local Celebrity Sidney Crosby want me all to himself.”

“I,” Sidney says, throat dry, tongue swelling.  He takes another sip of beer. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Who says I’m make fun?  Feel very special, have to run all over town to get your attention, and now you jealous,” Geno replies, smile spilling back onto his face.  

“What?  Stop,” Sidney says like a reflex.  He wants to want this.  He wants to let himself have this if it’s something he can have, but his body doesn’t know how.  “Zhenya.  Sorry, should I?  I shouldn’t, Geno.”

He can feel Geno’s foot press against his ankle under the table, and his voice is so low in the bar that Sidney almost doesn’t hear him when he says, “like the way you say my name, Sid.  You can call me anything you want.”

[openlockswhoeverknocks]

January Highlights

As always, after a visit to the McKittrick I like doing a list of highlights for people to read if they so desire. I just enjoy writing these so forgive my ramblings. These are in no particular order, just as I remember them. 

- Stepping into the lift/elevator and then entering the actual hotel after a few months’ break.

- Wandering a little bit aimlessly in a tired and just stepped off a plane state, seeing Ida’s Agnes come out of her 1:1 room and telling yourself “well that’s third loop sorted” while your body is actually already following her right there and then. I guess body knew best. 

- The 5th floor- I love that floor so much. 

- Spending an innordinate amount (again) outside Matron’s hut. I got to see quite a few different ones this time and loved every single one.

- Feeling like I’m being judged every time a Matron asked me if I wanted sugar in my tea. Yes, I like sweet tea, don’t judge!

- Not being given the choice by Sarah’s Matron on whether I wanted sugar in my tea or not. I was having sugar because she decided so. 

- Elizabeth’s cackle as Hecate will never fail to make me happy. Weird I know. 

- Getting to see Ida’s Bald Witch after just over a year and half and loving every single minute of it. She’s the very first bald witch I followed so extra sentimental value there. I did follow her a lot this time because she was on a lot but I just couldn’t stay away whenever she was on. 

- That ballroom solo, MY GOD that solo when Ida does it!!!

- Ginger’s cooky yet gentle Matron. Seemed like an adult that never quite grew up and still behaved with a child like innocence which was so endearing. The gentleness in the 1:1 melted my heart.  - I LOVE watching Lady Macbeth dance with Duncan in the mezzanine as she hands him the poisoned drink

-Jenna’s Nurse looking vacant one minute and then suddenly engaging herself in whatever task she was doing. It was really effective and unsettling. 

- Marissa’s sexy having so much playful authority. A bit like a leopard or a panther. She also seemed to love tickling passersby which was quite entertaining. 

- Spending a nice quiet hour with Marc’s taxi and letting out an accidental chuckle when he cleaned his shoes after his visit to the graveyard. 

- Mallory’s Agnes. She is so detailed and you can read every emotion on her face. She has a way of drawing you in so that you feel everything she’s going through with her. 

- Following Marissa’s super detailed and creepy Nurse, being taken to the 1:1 only to hear an announcement that the building was being evacuated. 

- Returning into the building after the evacuation to find no characters around for a couple of scenes and ending up with Mallory’s Agnes and ugly crying for the first time at a show ever. I don’t do crying, 

- Virginia’s Matron. I could write a whole other post on this and no one wants that I’m sure so I’m just leaving it at that. 

- Being intrigued by Matron sewing a letter together with red string.

- Being freaked out by matron looking at herself in a hand mirror while sat down at her rocking chair and finding my eye looking through the wall slit in the reflection. Super cool and super freaky.

- Nearly stumbling right into 6th floor nurse because I was so lost in my thoughts. 

- Ryan’s sexy being a pure joy and delight to watch. Plus her rep bar solo is INCREDIBLE!

- Spending happy hour in Manderley with Maximilian and Kit. Kit made me laugh so much my sides hurt. It was a good core workout!

- Seeing a fellow white mask draw imaginary Xs on the trees and walls of the 5th floor maze on the way back to Matron’s hut. Once we all stood facing the door of the hut, he stood up straight and made an X with his arms above his head. Baffling and soooooo weird!

- Isadora’s Lady Macduff folding the baby clothes in such a tender and innocent way it made me so sad. 

- Jenna’s Danvers being so very strange that it’s intriguing to watch. She doesn’t feel as malicious as some. Perhaps more crazy and therefore more threatening too. That little smile she has does not bode well for anyone. 

- Nick’s Porter and his obsession with giving Agnes sugar in her tea. All Agneses I saw refused the sugar but he either didn’t listen and still poured a mountain of it, or he coaxed them into accepting the sugar by being annoying. 

- Nick’s playful Porter dancing around uncovering furniture and trying to get under Agnes’ skin as much as he can vs Nick’s more sensitive and sad side later in the loop when you can see how vulnerable he really is. 

- Sarah’s Lady Macbeth and how anxious she is. She show a slightly more vulnerable side than outright crazy, which really works quite well and all of a sudden, at reset, she’s back to being stone faced and resident Queen Bee.

- Have I mentioned how happy Elizabeth’s Hecate cackle makes me?

- Spending a loop with Ida’s Lady Macbeth and being so engrossed in the loop that I never even noticed how crowded she got. She’s a less sympathetic Lady Macbeth but my favourite because of that. You can see how calculating she is and how much she gets off on the idea of power. That dance she does behind the mirror just before going down to the banquet summarises the whole character and the loop. I LOVE it. 

- Spending the top of the show with Nurse and going down to the banquet with her only to notice my dream combination of Ryan Sexy and Ida Bald was happening right then and there. 

- Subsequently spending the middle loop with Bald and the last loop with Sexy and getting some highly amused looks when some scenes overlapped. I recommend doing those two loops in one show, it’s actually super fun. 

- I absolutely love watching Mallory’s Hecate during the rave. Whenever she was on, even if I arrived with one of the witches, I ended up just watching her. She has this magnetism about her that makes you watch her every move and it’s great to watch her actually orchestrate the whole rave and seeing her delight in herself when it’s all working. 

- Hecate’s cabaret scene, no matter which Hecate does it, has got to be one of the best scenes inside the hotel.

- Jeff’s speakeasy constantly singing and being a general joy to come across in my roaming around. 

- The mirror dance has got to be my favourite scene in there. No matter which Nurse/Matron combo it is, I absolutely love watching it. Especially the beginning when the light first starts coming through the hut window. - Seeing: “Art thou afeard to be the same in thine own act and valour as thou art in desire? being written by matron at high speed on the pillar and being taken completely by surprise for some reason. I love it when you’re settled in a routine and a tiny detail changes and you have a eureka moment. 

- Spending more time than usual at the bar during the show and having the most random conversations. I think I am almost on par with Kit when it comes to randomness. 

- Alternating between being really intimidated by Ida’s bald witch and wanting to stay out of her way and loving the attention she was giving me depending on my vibe when I followed her. 

- Fulton leaving Agnes a little charm to protect her while she sleeps. Creepy yet cute. 

- Isabel’s Agnes and her little enigmatic smile I can never decipher.

- The witches during the rave when they’re full of energy and scream the place down. So, SO good. 

- Spending time with friends old and new inside the hotel and see them enjoy the place as much as I do.

There’s probably more but I’m getting sleepy so I will add as I go.  Sorry this is so long and hope you all enjoy!