#i regret to inform you that this is misleading

[storiesofsvu]

🌹🌹

Sonny watched from across the living room at a Sunday dinner, his two year old niece on your lap. She’d practically been screaming from the moment she entered the house, her own parents and grandparents unable to calm her down. But the moment she’d been dropped into your lap she quieted, fascinated with babbling along to you, he smiled warmly as you nodded enthusiastically, agreeing with the gibberish spewing from her lips before you spoke back to her. You’d always been amazing with kids, especially in his family, it was part of what made him know that you were exactly who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Suddenly, you glanced up, catching him staring and you laughed softly,

“What?”

“Nothin’.” He replied, crossing the room to press a kiss to the top of your head, “you’re just gonna be such an incredible mom.”

“Sonny…” You chuckled, standing from the sofa with the toddler on your hip and his arm wound around your waist before he leant in, stealing a tender kiss.

“Oh now would you look at that.” His mother half teased as she came out from the kitchen, “how long are you two going to make me wait until it’s actually your baby you’ll be holding.”

“Serafina, come on.” You chuckled back, “how many times have you lectured us that the wedding has to happen first?” “I’ll take that as an acceptable excuse.”

[fookinstevienicks]

okay what we not gone do is take my post about certain of the most unhinged buddie stans and use that as an excuse to bash Eddie as a character or spread misleading information regarding Ryan his actor

whether Eddie is a "white Latino" is an irrelevant and dismissive derailment. I promise you a man with the name Diaz raised in a US border town in Texas was treated in a racialized manner, and ain't nobody checking his 23 and me about it first. I don't get called half an n word because my father was white after all

Second, Ryan Guzman the actual person said some stupid shit. He also as far as I can tell has done the work to apologize and educate himself. His cast mates appear to have reconciled with him, to the point of Aisha, a Black woman, inviting him to her wedding. He and I are tentatively cool as long as he don't do something else stupid

don't hop on my posts with all that nonsense

and quit shitting on completely unrelated shippers. I'm too old for anti nonsense. Ship and let ship. I'm not saying this shit bc these people are shipping buddie. If they could do that rationally while letting other ppl ship other things EYE would still also be shipping it. I'm saying it because they're treating other people like shit because we don't.

this is why I almost didn't share that screenshot and ngl I'm regretting it. y'all be missing the damn point. buddie shippers, handle your bigot problems. bucktommy shippers, don't start behaving badly too

[headspace-hotel]

I'm probably gonna regret attaching my name to this but I slept on it and I'm still really upset but now more coherent (so please delete this if it's unwelcome).

First of all I'm really sorry you're dealing w this shit. I hope you're taking care of yourself rn.

Second of all.... holy fuck Inneskeeper has handled this horribly. I'm trying to extend the benefit of the doubt and say he just needs time, we all do, but it's very hard when he's been acting as though a day is enough time for everyone to get over the fear he spread.

It's really upsetting to see him bring up both his schizophrenia and his career as reasons why he was upset without ever actually uttering the words "I'm sorry, I was wrong." without needing to read between the lines.

It's a really concerning trend I've noticed reappearing now that actual celebrities and just plain old popular users are becoming more open with their mental health, that "I was having a psychotic break/I was having a manic episode/I was blah-de-blah" somehow taking the place of an actual apology. As if explaining it means you no longer have to take action or responsibility.

Especially given he was bringing up his profession during all this. As a professional especially he has a responsibility. I know "this is tumblr" but this is TUMBLR. People don't fact-check. You have sway. Especially as a professional.

He could've made the post unrebloggable, but if he did I haven't seen it. He could've pinned a post that actually contained information/a retraction/a quick apology and explanation, instead we got "I'm taking a break". He edited the post, but given part of his defense was that reblog chains are uncontrollable an edit you would not see unless you clicked back to his blog is...

I'm really hoping that once he comes back he'll say something. Because I know parasocial relationship and all that but I really did respect him, as someone transgender and with some of my specific mental illnesses in a field I'm deeply interested in.

But now I'm just... tired. He spread that same cycle of panic and delusion to everyone who read that post. Here I was thinking that I just got my dog back from the vet and now she and everyone else I love was going to die, that the apocalypse was coming.

Until I did the googling he as an actual ecologist did not do. As if me taking a tumblr post and freaking is less acceptable than him taking a twitter post and freaking.

I don't want to cancel him or bully him. I don't doubt that he's gotten some ableist nonsense, because the internet sucks. But he really hurt a lot of people and did a lot of damage. All I want is him to plainly say "I'm sorry, I did it because [x/y/z] but it was still wrong and I hurt people. Here is some actual information. I'm going to log off." Without a billion asterisks.

And honestly maybe apologize for siccing people on you but frankly given how hard my opinion of him has tanked I'm not gonna hold my breath.

I'm fine. The block button is a wonderful thing.

My feelings are mixed. Yes, I see that it would be terrifying to have your mental illness warp your perception of an event, but...you're not the only mentally ill person on Earth, and it's no less terrifying to be triggered into an episode by false information.

I have been asked by several followers to trigger tag #unreality because that kind of thing really messes with them. And the post was framed in a particularly triggering way—encouraging conspiratorial thinking by saying that there's a "media blackout" and that the official sources are downplaying the severity.

The post is still circulating as of this morning, and the misleading version is still hitting people's dashes and suckering people in. Why would you not just make it unrebloggable?

I don't know. I really don't know what to think of the whole thing.

The Twitter OP makes me honestly furious, claiming that "the cops" "blew it up" when it was first responders putting their lives in danger to stop the burning train cars from exploding. It's so frustrating to see people acting like they're calling it a "controlled burn" to cover up idiotic mismanagement. The crews that responded to this accident at great potential risk to their lives don't deserve to be called cops and slandered for making the best decision they could have possibly made.

In general it's worrying how folks on social media are responding—by encouraging paranoia and mistrust by attributing malice or idiocy to the people trying to manage the accident.

Folks say "fuck cops" but they can't distinguish cops from firefighters and hazardous materials crews working to save lives. That's scary to me.

I don't think we know enough yet to ascertain the causes of the accident, but I want to caution against looking for a specific party to blame as being at fault, because...these things can happen even when we do everything right. As long as we use these hazardous chemicals to make things, this is always a possibility.

And it's not necessarily a "preventable" failure of society that we make and use PVC, either. One of the causes of how widespread plastics are is that they are genuinely useful materials with properties that no other materials have. PVC pipe is what probably makes the plumbing in your house. Before PVC, there was copper, which is incredibly expensive, has a tendency to burst with temperature changes, and corrodes and reacts with various chemicals.

And the sad fact is, environmental disasters like this happen a lot. Many of them worse than this.

Not too far from where I live, there was a case where tons of radioactive waste were dumped into a municipal landfill. This radioactive waste was being handled by workers who didn't know what it was and had no protection. This was a case of malicious dodging of regulations. Mining coal creates radioactive and toxic waste that is constantly mismanaged. I was doing reports on local environmental news for my geology class a while back and many of the coal mines in Eastern Kentucky have a hundredfold violations of environmental and safety regulations, and companies usually dodge responsibility.

I hope this incident inspires people to think and talk about environmental regulations and rights of workers in the rail industry. What with the railroad strikes going on, I think it's worth considering that this is why we need to look out for the welfare of rail workers—you want the people handling the shipment of hazardous chemicals to be well rested and well protected.

[c0rpseductor]

i SEVERELY regret to inform you all that i dont know that this play is doing it for me. in fact i stand somewhat convinced it is not doing much for me at all. really a bummer i was very enthusiastic about it

i dont want this to read as if im saying oh it's a BAD play. it's a very good play actually. i think it's just that it's a very faithful retelling, and having gone into it expecting something else for some ungodly reason i can't help but feel disappointed. i guess i was expecting some kind of transformativity with the central themes and blah blah blah. i suppose it's hard to tell given i haven't really compared it to any other takes on the source material and am just comparing it to the little fragments of translations of orphic stuff ive read on theoi.com

by the by the feminist read promised by whatever fucking wikipedia editor saw fit to use the adjective feminist is. well. i do not think it's an inaccurate description necessarily but i do think it's a bit misleading in terms of what one can really extract from the text beyond the surface level read of "being in a supportive community of women is better than being kidnapped and made queen of hell." this is not so big a mental leap. like, sure, i guess this is technically a feminist sentiment, but idk that there's much else there.

this is also feeling like maybe the briefest play known to man so i cannot blame shelley for not having the space of an entire novel in which to play toys

[striderl]

He cared ... and he still cares

Inspired by the Young Iron AU from @tornadoyoungiron. Sending my love to your fics here ❤❤❤

Some people think Gordon is younger because Scotsman calls him “little brother”. I know the dialogue between the two brothers can be misleading to some new TTTE fans, but Gordon is actually older than the Flying Scotsman, because he is a LNER class A1 Pacific and Scotsman is a LNER class A3 Pacific.

Here is the story of the Doncaster brothers in my AU.

The beginning of the two brothers isn’t trouble free. Gordon was a prototype built beside LNER class A1/1 Great Northern and constantly being harassed and threatened to be scrapped by younger siblings, due to prototypes are considered “defective”. As time went on, he acknowledged that taking the matter to his fists and buffers was the only way to deal with his brattish younger siblings, he knew that he could rely on no one but himself.

When Scotsman was built, Gordon saw the fact that Scotsman is being looked down on by the other siblings as well. Before Scotman had made his name by becoming the first official steam locomotive to reach a speed of 100 mph, Gordon had taken care of Scotty and changed his way of doing things – from using violence to solve his own problems … to solving both of their problems. Eventually that proved to be effective ... for some reason.

As time elapsed,  Scotsman became more and more famous, Gordon still loved him with all his heart and cherished his achievements, but at the same time he can’t help feeling jealous and pitying himself for not achieving anything like Scotsman did. After Scotsman got the Flying Scotsman Express service he had a major esteem boost and flaunted about it in front of Gordon. Little did he know that it was rubbing salt in the wound because Gordon had been neglected by their designer for years and never been put into service on the mainland. It was the final straw that broke Gordon’s defence against his unsatisfaction of Scotsman’s pride and they had an argument because of it. After the unhappy incident, they did not talk to each other for a week, until Sir Nigel Gresley informed Scotsman one day that Gordon was purchased by the North Western Railway, and before he went away, he left Scotsman an apology note for snapping at him. Knowing this, Scotsman regretted that he never apologized or said goodbye to Gordon, but he was too late.

The two brothers did not meet each other again until the day that Gordon heard the tragic news that all his siblings had been scrapped on the mainland. Despite never liked some of his siblings, he felt sympathetic for them, since they had looked up to him at one point. Scotsman visited Gordon to give him a bit of comfort and of course, apologized for the fight they had years ago (...and you know the rest *wink wink*)

Welp, not everything can be sorted out in one day. Some toxic elements in their relationship still last … you know, Brothers will be Brothers.

I will explain how my AU works later when I have the time to do so.

[thekingofthenameless]

Day 6: Mistaken Identity

Length: 2.2K

Cws/Tws: None

Still working on Day 5, but it should hopefully be here soon!

Merlin:

“Your Majesty?” He doesn’t raise his head from perusing the requests from the lords (they’re all bullshit, really, and Charlie would be laughing at them), knowing that Uther will take care of it. Did he really become that lost in thought? Enough for at least two people to enter the room without him noticing? Ugh, Charlie would’ve warned him, but his son isn’t on his way back yet. He would’ve gotten an update, and maybe he’s still trying to hunt something, since he hasn’t been informed about that either. What if he was drugged again? No. He wasn’t. He wasn’t. “Sure he wasn’t,” Kennard whispers, mocking. “Do you really want to take that chance?” “He’s fine, Kennard,” he replies, even though it doesn’t do anything, only makes it worse. “What if there was someone waiting for the perfect time to strike?” The orc responds, persisting. “There wasn’t,” he snaps, but he doesn’t believe himself. “Um… Your Majesty?” The voice asks again, and he looks up, confused, wondering why Uther hadn’t said anything. It’s only the two of them in here, actually. A boy of about fifteen years old has just barely entered the room, staring at him nervously. His helmet is tucked under his arm, revealing short, curly reddish-brown hair, pale skin, and gray eyes. His nose is hooked, with a slight bump near the bridge of it. He’s clearly still going through puberty, since he’s all arms and legs and his face has a mild case of acne. Wait- he doesn’t think that he’s Uther, does he? “Do you require something?” He asks gently, because he’s still Uther’s advisor and can handle whatever the boy- a new knight, requests. “Yes, Your Majesty,” the boy begins, and he’s barely able to keep a neutral face now that he knows he really has been mistaken for the king. “I was wondering where I’m going to be stationed? The captain- David- told me to come see you.” He lets his amusement show and stands, not wanting to keep misleading the boy. The blood flowing as a result makes him immediately regret it, and he fights back a grimace. At least he isn’t having cramps. For now. “Well, there’s one problem with that. I’m not the king.” He holds out his hand to shake, smiling, and the boy doesn’t take it at first. “I’m Merlin Ambrosius, his advisor.” “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice gone, dismayed and mortified. “He told me to come here-” “No, it’s all right,” he murmurs, still gentle. “You’re in the right place. Uther’s just… off somewhere. He might be with his brother.” It’s not a lie, and even if it was, at least it might help the poor boy’s embarrassment. The boy nods, and fortunately his words seem to help. “I-” his voice cracks, and his face flushes, but he pretends not to notice as the boy finally shakes his hand, looking down at it. “I’m Egbert.” “It’s good to meet you, Egbert.” Worry for his son begins to return, constricting his chest, along with not knowing where Uther is. A wave of nausea suddenly hits him, and he curses his body, curses the king for not being here so he can stay in bed until Cleansing Tide lessens, wishes Charlie was here so he could curl against him in case cramps do come. “Why don’t you stay here?” He suggests, relieved when his voice doesn’t betray him (or maybe it did, and the boy didn’t notice or was too polite to say so). “I’ll see if I can find him.” Egbert nods, and he smiles down at him before stepping out, shutting the door behind him. He takes a deep breath, trying to fight back the nausea so he can find Uther and contact his son. He should sit down since he feels unsteady on his feet, but Charlie isn’t here to force him and he can’t keep Egbert waiting. “Sweetheart, how’s the hunting going?” He asks, beginning to walk through the hallway. “It took me a while, but I found a couple of deer,” his son replies a moment later, and he feels ready to crumple in relief since he knows that Uther’s fine. “I’ll be back soon.” “That’s good,” he murmurs, and something in his voice does betray him now, or it’s because Charlie knows him as well as he knows himself. “You were worried?” His child asks gently.

He nods, realizing that’s foolish a moment later because he isn’t able to be seen. “…I’m sorry. I know it’s irrational.” “It’s not.” Considering what we’ve been through, he doesn’t say, but they both know. “I’ll be back soon,” he repeats, trying to get both of their minds off the past. “How have you been?” “Nauseous.” Charlie croons in sympathy. “Any cramps?” “No, not yet, thankfully.” “That’s good. Are you lying down?” “No, I have to find Uther since he’s disappeared off the face of the world. There’s a new knight who needs to be stationed.” His son snorts. “Good luck with that. I love you.” “I love you too,” he whispers, heart warming. Their telepathic connection ends as he reaches the throne room, opening the doors after smiling at John and Noah. And fortunately, Uther is here, because he is not in the mood to go searching throughout the castle for him.

“Uther?” he asks, approaching the throne. The king is conversing with Aurelius, who’s standing beside him, making him right, if unintentionally. Both brothers smile at him, and he tries not to feel uncomfortable at their gazes. It’s only two people, not a crowd, and he’s fine. He’s fine. “What is it, Merlin?” Aurelius inquires, and Uther raises his brows at his brother. “Who’s the king here?” He teases, making Aurelius just grin at him. The exchange makes him smile a little, and some of his nervousness eases. If only the nausea could. “A new knight has arrived, and he needs to be stationed.” He doesn’t tell them about Egbert’s mistaken identity situation. The boy was already nervous enough, and he doesn’t need any more embarrassment on his first day here. “Ah, all right,” Uther responds, standing. “Would you like to come, Aurelius?” His brother shakes his head. “I had some reading I wanted to catch up on.” Uther nods, and the two separate as the king comes beside him. “Where’s Charlie?” Aurelius inquires before he leaves. He makes a noncommittal gesture. “Out hunting. He’ll be back soon.” “Are you all right, Merlin?” Uther asks a few minutes later as they walk through the halls, and he flinches, startled. “I’m… feeling slightly under the weather,” he answers after a moment. “But I’ll be fine in a few days.” Uther doesn’t prod, thankfully, seeming satisfied with his answer. Soon they reach the great hall, and he lets the king enter first. Egbert is admiring the windows, seeming fascinated by them; he probably hasn’t seen stained glass before. He doesn’t think the boy is nobility, because he’s never been seen in Camelot at the balls (that he remembers, anyway, he’ll have to ask Charlie about that), besides his general nervous demeanor since arriving (but maybe that’s just his personality). “Egbert,” he calls, and the boy turns without being startled unlike him. “This is His Majesty,” he continues, nodding at the man beside him. “He’ll get you sorted.” “Your Majesty,” Egbert says softly, averting his gaze and kneeling. Uther lets him kneel for what he thinks is far too long (but maybe he’s overthinking again) before he commands, “Rise.” The boy does, and Uther studies him for a moment before inquiring, “Did David tell you where you were going to be placed?” “No, Your Majesty. He told me to come see you first.” “You’re newly knighted, correct?” “Yes, Your Majesty.” He doesn’t hear what Uther says next since Charlie’s voice enters his mind. “I’m back. Where are you?” He asks, and his heart swells. “I’ll be outside the great hall.” “- Merlin, do you mind taking him?” The king questions, and he didn’t hear the first part, but it doesn’t really matter, since Egbert will be placed under David’s care, with the other new knights, anyhow. “Of course not.” This is perfect, actually. He can introduce Egbert to Charlie now and not have him be scared by a giant dragon later, and Charlie wouldn’t have to be on guard around a newcomer. Uther smiles and slips away; to do what, he doesn’t know, but hopefully nothing else will come up and they can both have a peaceful day. He smiles at Egbert, beginning to walk to the gatehouse, and after a moment the boy follows him.

He feels Charlie’s presence a moment before his son comes around the corner, eyes lighting up when he spots him. Egbert gasps from beside him, and maybe he should have warned him about having a dragon as a familiar. Charlie, thankfully, doesn’t run towards them, padding forward slowly once he spots Egbert (he probably would’ve done it anyway). “I’m presuming he’s the new knight?” He asks, stopping in front of them. “Egbert, this is Charlie- Charlemagne,” he says to the boy, indirectly answering his dragon’s question because Egbert looks like he’s divided between being awestruck and terrified and he does not want this to end badly. Fortunately, Egbert hasn’t reached for his sword, only standing still. “Charlemagne?” Egbert murmurs after an agonizingly long moment, staring at his son. “He’s… your familiar, isn’t he?” Far more than that, he thinks; he nods. “Yes, he is. Did you… know he’s a dragon?” He murmurs, curious. How much had Egbert been told about the two of them, if it all? The boy nods, terror fading, finally tearing his gaze away to refocus on him. “I didn’t expect him to be so big,” he says, chuckling, and they both relax at the same time. This was already going better than expected. Egbert takes a step closer to Charlie, an awestruck grin on his face. “Would he allow me to touch him?” His dragon looks above the boy to meet his gaze. He shrugs helpfully. “It’s your choice.” “Very helpful.” But his son bends his head, and Egbert reaches up to gently stroke his muzzle with his free hand; Charlie closes his eyes, leaning into the touch. “He’s beautiful,” the boy whispers, and his son purrs while he stares, halfway between joy and disbelief. Egbert lowers his hand after a few more moments of petting. Charlie promptly pads over to him, bumping his head against his chest and purring loudly. He rests his own head on his son’s muzzle, stroking his jaw, and just for a moment, he allows himself to close his eyes. They pull apart to find Egbert smiling, and it’s… strange, to see someone reacting to them like this, and he doubts Charlie knows what to do either. He does know that they’ll have a conversation about it later, but later means he doesn’t have to worry about it now. He clears his throat; his dragon moves to stand at his left side. “Is it true he can talk?” Egbert asks as all three of them continue to the gatehouse, and he looks at his son, who really seems blasé about the whole thing, maybe because the boy will find out sooner or later. “Yes,” Charlie responds without preamble, and he fights the urge to sigh because Egbert having such a good reaction this whole time doesn’t mean that it won’t change when a dragon can talk. But Egbert just grins, eyes bright with awe again. “That’s incredible.” It doesn’t take long for them to finish the journey; David is already there, waiting. “So you saw the king, Egbert?” “Yes, sir.” “All right. Well, you’ll be under my care with the other new knights,” the captain continues nonchalantly; Egbert seems confused again. “Wait… then why did I have to see His Majesty?” “Just a formality,” David laughs, patting his shoulder. “Let’s get you settled in.” He nods at both of them before steering Egbert away, and Egbert waves at them before disappearing around the corner. Charlie dips his head to nuzzle his shoulder, purring. “What now?” “Honestly, a nap sounds nice,” he murmurs, suddenly exhausted.

His son nods in agreement (and he thinks it’s because Charlie just wants him to sit the fuck down), purring softly. He reaches up to stroke his dragon’s shoulder, suddenly remembering how small he used to be. Charlie doesn’t see the nostalgia most likely on his face since he’d have to turn his head to look at him fully, but he wouldn’t tease him about it anyhow. It seems like ages before they finally reach their room, and he takes off his boots, barely undoing enough of the bedsheets for him to get in before he flops onto it. It isn’t dignified in the slightest, but Charlie doesn’t care, and no one else is around. His dragon jumps onto the bed, changing sizes briefly so he isn’t inconvenienced, shifting back after settling into his position, head laid against his chest and body stretched out. His pillow is cold, and Charlie is so, so warm and soft, the advantage of having a dragon as a cuddle partner, and as he falls asleep, hands on his son’s head, he thinks that life couldn’t be any more perfect.

Taglist: @gaylightisminetocommand, @the-arson-author-gamer

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 101 (Downfall, Part 3)

Where ... where are the others? It's just Tal and Marisha, what ... oh, wait, I think I know what's going on here ... yup, here we go ... Sam is so game, I love it. Of course now they're just full-on TORTURING him, but still ... XD

Marisha: "I'm so alone! It's so cold ..."

Matt disappears ... the other two freak out ... then Brennan appears ...yup ...

"Keep your mitts off my fucking cake!" Yeah ...

Okay, so here we go, then ... FINALLY ... because it was a SIX FUCKING HOUR EPISODE ... talk about having scheduling problems ...

Ah yes, so back in the speakeasy, then ... and it fucken wimdy out there ...

So ... is Cassida starting to regret her choice, maybe? Or is she just a bit ... overwhelmed?

Trouble in the club? Hmmm ... oh! Right! Turbulence, yeah, that makes sense ... yeah, that's right, nothing to see here! Go back to merry-making, folks! All's well!

Oh yeah, the traitor angel! OKay, then ...

Good point ... how DOES the Telepathic Bond thing work? Yeah, might not be the SMART move to download to everybody ...

We're all in this "together"? Are we SURE about that?

Calm Emotions? OKay, then ... yeah, this is NOT a very calming situation right now ...

Shit ... no, the Emissary IS NOT one of the bad guys ...

Charisma check for the Counterspell ... hmmmm ... 18? Yeah, JUST ... this is about to go REALLY BAD ...

Clearly she really IS on their side ... CAN THEY win her back to their side? Wow ... this is starting to feel like it's going to turn into a full-blown TRAGEDY ...

So the password is ... AURORA REX ... in theory, given things are likely becoming worryingly fluid ... hmmm ...

Yes ... time for some hard truths ... crap ...

A line between "those who matter and those who don't" ... oof ... NOT the best way to put it, if you ask me ...

Acastrial? Hmmm ... wow, this angel really DOESN'T LIKE THEM at all, do they?

A talisman? Intriguing ...

Ah, bargaining ... here we go ... I knew it was gonna go this way. It's all going to shit just like I thought it would ... yeah, she just doesn't get it, they're gonna destoy Aeor ANYWAY ...

The red thread? Oh ... wow ... that's intense ...

So what ... they're erasing the knowledge, but still planning on KEEPING it anyway? Hmmmmm ... yeah, THAT can't go well.

MIslead? Interesting ...

Through Dearest's eyes ... oh fuck yeah, this is just pure CHAOS ... it is SO TOTALLY FUCKED out there right now ...

Fuck! Impaled by his own staff! That is GNARLY ...

Aha! Vital information! Nice ... Seven Wards, yeah ... "disanimate" the Factorum Malleus? Hmmmm ... sounds like a suicide mission ...

She understands that she's marked to die no matter WHAT happens in this ... oh fuck ... yeah, this is weighing heavy on Trist and I am NOT surprised ... Ashley, you really are SUCH A TOTAL SWEETHEART and I wouldn't have it any other way ...

Good point ... HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK are they gonna get to the Genesis Ward IN THIS SHIT?!!!

Tishar: "This fun." Asha: "I don't know what that is." Tishar: "Urgh ... cannot believe you have more followewrs than me."

Yeah! Go off Wildmother! That is so awesome ... Asha (to Tishar): "I have SO MANY more followers than you."

It really is FUCKING WILD out there right now ... O.O

Wait ... they BLEW OUT the teleportation system? The ruling class fucked everybody else? OF COURSE they did. What else would we expect?

Ashley: "No! No! NO!!! I want a do over!" No shit, Ash ...

"The faithful executed for their crimes" ... oof ...

Protecting the tree EVEN NOW ... fucking SWEET MOVES, Asha ... you're STILL my favourite in this ...

The Emissary (to Cassida): "Not good, or bad. Family. Balance. Understand?" Hmmmm ...

Ashley: "This doesn't feel right, this doesn't feel right, this doesn't feel right ..." Man, I wanna give her a hug right now ...

Everybody's just tooling up for badassery to come, clearly ...

The first constellation? Sweet ...

Milo really is a massive prick ...

DRAGONS?!!! Fuck's sake ... O.O

Level B9 ... "benign"? Oh for fuck's sake ...

She has a point, you can't really DESTROY knowledge, not forever. You can only DELAY it ...

SPLITTING THE PARTY ... like always, I say it again, it's NEVER a good idea ...

Asha KNOWS that Emhira is using some trickery here ... and says NOTHING. Interesting ...

A distraction? Really? Ballsy ... I'm not sure SILAHA's really thinking this through right now ...

Oh shit ... Battlemap time? Cool ...

Holy fuck ... that looks like a fucking basestar from Battlestar Galactica!

And now we're one a break ... SO EARLY? Bloody hell ... the last stretch is gonna be FOUR FUCKING HOURS of solid combat, looks like ...

This fucking thing is CONSTANTLY ROTATING ... is that maybe going to make things a bit difficult for actual GAMEPLAY?

Yeah, watch out where you're placing those FUCKING GIGANTIC aeormatons, Brennan ... O.O

Deception? Shit ... ALREADY?!!! Not a good sign AT ALL ... 28? Okay ... uh-oh ... that fucking angel ... is this about to go south after all?

Divine Awareness? CRAP ... and so it's time to ROLL INITIATIVE!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!

27 Initiative for the Emissary? HOLY FUCK ...

Whoa ... so as they start to destroy Wards their godly powers are gonna start to come through? SWEET ... but it also means if Brennan's gonne get a TPK he's REALLY gonna try for it in the first 20 minutes ...

The Emissary dashes in to reach SILAHA ... Arcana Check! 10? Oof ... they extend their Scales of Justice and just CHUCK 'em at the nearest Ward ... 31 to hit? Oh FUCK YEAH that totally hits ... it has to be at least 15 points of damage to cause ANY damage? Interesting ... Demolishing MIght? Sounds MAJOR ... yeah, definitely use that shit ... 18 points so that's DOUBLE damage ... nice ... so a warcry and then it goes SMASH!!! Yup, that just SHATTERS it ...

Holy shit ... that is a fucking SWEET bonus to unlock! Divine prowess INDEED!!! Yeah, get smashing, people!

Brennan: "Okay ... that happened A LITTLE FASTER than I thought it would!"

SILAHA and the Emisary BOTH need to make dexterity saves ... BALLS!!! Ooof ... so they're BOTH fails? Wow ... yeah, Acastriel is a RAGING BITCH ... and now WISDOM saves? Oof again ... 45 Radiant damage! AAAAAAAAHHH!!! And now they're BOTH stunned ... damn it ...

Here come the aeormatons, then ... crap ... squatting over more Wards? Hmmmm ...

A Glabrezu? What the sweet FUCK?!!!

A massive Nalfeshnee? Owww ...

Fucking hell ... people are taking damage and they're not even IN the battle yet ...

THAT FUCKING DRAGON!!! I fucking knew it! Fire-breath equals INSTANT 45 points of fire damage to SILAHA and the Emissary ... oof ... they're ALREADy starting to look rough ...

Zaharzht waddles in the best he can and manages to do NOTHING this turn ...

Emhira sends a mote from her Crown of Stars up to try and hit one of the Wards up top. Okay ... 26 is DEFINITELY a hit ... the top Wards are a T25 threshold to even scratch it? Ow ... 32 points? SWEET!!! It's sparking now, not broken but definitely damaged ... okay, time Shatter on the nearest enemy ... six D8 of damage? Holy shit ... 27 points! Nice ... the aeormaton takes a big hit but manages to shake off the worst of it with its save ... the other ward is also still up but this one is ALSO now badly damaged too ... and now she's visible, too.

The Solar uses a Legendary Action to Teleport directly in front of her ... crap! Acastriel takes two swings at her with their greatsword ... 22 slashing and 27 Radiant damage ... OUCH!!! but Ayden teleports right in and takes the second hit himself instead ... Hellish Rebuke? Oh nice, Emhira ... meanwhile the illusory version of her with Trist and the rest just VANISHES ...

Asha rushes in and attacks SILAHA and the Emissary's opponent ... the demon is instantly STUNNED and takes a SERIOUSLY messy hit ... 21 points! Now she has advantage on further attacks ... another 9 points, and she takes Patient Defense to cover from the dragon.

ANOTHER FUCKING DRAGON?!!! Come on! I knew it, Brennan REALLY IS trying for a TPK!

Acastriel tries to mindfuck Emhira ... Con save! Oof ... wow, now she's BLINDED!!! Fuck!

Paralising dragon breath! FUCK!!! Con saves manage to keep people from getting SUPER-fucked, but still ... this is not good! Oh, and Zaharzht is instantly frozen ... crap ...

Tishar runs in and uses the angel as a stepping stone to leap onto the brass dragon, hacking down as she goes ... WOW!!!

Trist, back in the library, gets a message through her sending stone from her family ... oh boy ... something's going BADLY WRONG with them. She tells them to RUN. Fuck ... this sounds like something REALLY BAD is going on there ... she can't go back to them but she's DESPERATE for them to be all right ... oh this is so bad ... and now the stone is suddenly SILENT ... FUCK!!! Trist is PANICKING now and I can't blame her in the slightest ...

Yeah, Umleta really don't strike me as a hugger ...

Fuck ... what is she going to do now? Is she leaving the battle? She's going to join her family ... hmmmm ...

Great ... more archmages are coming to defend the weapon ... that's just PERFECT ... the Emissary barely avoids getting Banished ... meanwhile half the group are caught in a Cone of Cold ... thank fuck for magical resistances ...

Selena tries to Wish SILAHA away ... FUCK!!! The fake aeormaton BARELY shakes off the spell's effect ... but takes a halved damage of 60 Force points all the same ... OUCH!!! But that could have been SO MUCH WORSE ... O.O

Ayden decides he needs to start healing RIGHT NOW, so he casts Sanctuary on himself, then a 6th level Mass Cure Wounds to give everybody who's hurt 20 hit points back and himself for 25 ...

Emhira takes 17 damage from the Silver dragon's tail ... ow!

Milo arrives? Oh thank fuck ... I hate his guts but we really need him right now ...

ANOTHER FUCKING DRAGON? An UNDEAD dragon? Are you fucking kidding me? Basically EVERYBODY has to make dex and wisdom saves ... FUCK!!! The Emissary and SILAHA are now both FRIGHTENED ... and that's a fuckton of Necrotic damage across the board ...

Top of the round again, then ...

Automatic Hit? Fuck's sake, Brennan!

Thank fuck the Emissary and SILAHA are no longer stunned, at least ...

Taking all of the Emissary's damage, Ayden is EXTREMELY fucked up right now ... ouch ...

Brass dragon regains its breathe weapon ... damn it ... wait ... Noshir could use Luck to make Brennan reroll? Oh PLEASE do ... a 3? YES!!! No breath weapon after all! NICE!!!

So instead it just shakes Tishar off and bites into her ... 70 points of damage? FUCK!!!

Zaharzht is currently reeling under his permanent pain and therefore can't do anything ... balls ...

Emhira is BLIND, so she tries a Hail Mary to attempt to hit the higher damaged Ward ... Crown of Stars again ... 17? That's a miss ... balls ... okay ... so she just belches out a void of screeching darkness instead ... wow ... that's going to hurt friends as much as enemies ...8 D8 of damage? Fucking hell, Laura ... 35 points of Psychic damage? Ow ...

Okay ... so this inflicts HUNDREDS of points of damage to their enemies and causes a bunch of missed attacks, but Ayden also takes a bunch of damage too ...

Acastriel tries to cut Ayden down ... 15 piercing and 27 Radiant damage ... oof ... Emhira takes the damage instead and on a NAT-FUCKING-20 shakes off an INSTANT DEATH ... wow ... Matron of Ravens INDEED!!!

Family, man! It's a beautiful thing ...

Asha takes a leap to the lower damaged Ward, IN THE DARK, and TANKS the hit to EASILY land it ... BOOM!!! She lands a Stunning Strike on the construct to knock it back, both fail to have an effect ... shit, guess that was a fail, then ... she stays put to try her luck again later ...

Acastrial teleports out of the Darkness ...

SILAHA, no longer stunned, summons constructs to heal 100 hit points ... then they cast Meteor Swarm on THE ENTIRE PLACE ... if this works, they could take out FOUR OF THE WARDS in one go ... so long as the mages can't counter it ... Ademar fails ... Selena succeeds, but SILAHA Counterspells HER Counterspell ... AND IT WORKS!!! So that's ALL gonna hit, then ... O.O

Abubakar is clearly relishing the CHAOS he's about to unleash and I LOVE IT ... XD

20 D6 Fire damage AND 20 D6 Force damage ... sweet fuck ... this is going to be SO BEAUTIFUL ... 69 + 77? Bloody hell ... and this is TIMES FOUR, essentially ...

So the dragons are now FUCKED UP ... Selena manages to save, but Ademar is VAPORIZED!!! Holy shit ... and SILAHA is no longer grappled ... Acastriel FAILS his dex save ... O.O ... HDYWTDT?!!! The angel is FUCKING DEAD!!! Beautiful, SILAHA!!! It's a BEAUTIFULLY HORRIBLE death for the Solar.

Meanwhile Asha grabs hold of SILAHA and LITERALLY dances him out of the impacts of each hit on the top level ... that's so fucking cool ...

And now for the Greater Wards ... the damaged one INSTANTLY fails! Now TWO!!! HOLY FUCK THAT'S ALL THREE!!! Un-fucking-believable ... O.O

Wow ... Brennan is GENUINELY a little speechless now ...

Divine Magic ... fucking hell that one is SERIOUSLY OP'd ... Vitality ... I'm sorry ... restore ALL HIT POINTS? AUTOMATIC SUCCESSES ON DEATH SAVES? Sweet fuck ... Potency? Spell damage MULTIPLIED BY TEN?!!! Holy fuck ...

They are LITERALLY GODS right now ...

Trist SURGES into the battle, goes STRAIGHT to the Emissary and heals them with Mass Heal along with the others in range, INCLUDING Emhira's blindness! Sweet! Then she tries to Persuade the construct in front of her to destroy the nearest Ward ... oh shit ... Nat19 ... along with all the other advantages they now have that is a RIDICULOUS success ... and it punches it TO FUCK!!! O.O Tht's 60 Force damage ... the Ward SHATTERS ...

Divine Resistance ... Legendary Resistance x5? Massive immunities? Holy fucking shit ... that's another OP'd bonus ...

The silver dragon fails to recharge its breath weapon AGAIN?!!! Wow ...

More mages? Hmmm ...

Wow ... so Con saves are now, like, RIDICULOUS ... SO LITTLE DAMAGE now ... these hits are like pinpricks to them now ...

Another Meteor Swarm? Hmmm ... Spectral Wings from Trist? Nice ... dex saves all round, then ... I love how Ashley can LITERALLY just say NO to Brennan now regarding how much damage the Emissary takes ... XD

Ayden starts to rapidly age, doubling over before bursting up and casting Sunburst at 9th Level ... 12 D6 of Radiant damage? Wow ... 37 multiplied by 10? Holy fuck ... 370 points of Radiant damage ... which takes out A BUNCH of the mages ... and ALL THREE of the dragons? Holy fuck TWICE!!!

Now Ayden leaps up onto the platform, then Commanding Rallies the Emissary. Interesting ...

So the Emissary attacks the nearest Ward ... 160 damage? Oh that just ANNIHILATES the Ward ...

Divine Awareness ... Immunity to conditions including Charmed and Stunned? That's pretty sweet ...

Oh, so the talisman's finally come into play? What's Selena gonna do? She sends it to Oblivion? Some kind of spell ... this sounds complicated ... SILAHA is being presented with an agonising choice ...

Wish? Crap ...

It's the Emissary's turn, then ... they Rage and make the leap onto the platform, charges towards the remaining Ward, readying an action for when it goes down ...

Emhira Eldritch Blasts the last construct ... four GUARANTEED hits now, then ... 110, which just batters it RIGHT BACK off the Ward ... so she pours the rest into the Ward itself ...

Divine Vigour ... yet again this is thoroughly OP'd ... and that was THE VERY LAST WARD ...

The Emissary swings and hits the machine ... yup, I'd say that qualifies as disanimation ...

THey're no longer mortal, then ... EVERY ONE OF THEM is pure god, now ...

Who's in the cage? The Wildmother releases it ...

Trist says her goodbye to her family through the stone ... fuck ... wow, so that act literally saves her family from certain death? Crazy ... but also awesome ... oh, so they have power too? I mean they would, they're her kids ...

Ayden uses a Legendary Action to move an impossible distance at once ... SILAHA elects to stay and witness the destruction of the weapon ... Asha says her goodbyes to the Emissary and leaves FAST ... Emhira follows ...

Casting Calm Emotions, Trist comforts the Emissary before she leaves as well ...

Fuck ... Cassida's dead? Murdered by Ameris, Trist's husband? Wait, he's NOT him? Who the fuck ... IMPOSTOR!!! TRAITOR!!! Fucking Asmodeus ...

Fuck, ANOTHER fight? Right now? Crazy ... roll Initiative, then ...

Trists casts Guiding Bolt ... 110? Oof ...

The Lord of Hells? Shit ... but she aims for THE SCROLL ... 12 D6, then ... 50 x10 ... 400 damage, then ... oh shit, yeah, that thing's just INCINERATED, then ...

The Emissary blows ...

Wow ... so Selena's Wish gives EVERY MAGE IN AEOR the knowledge to recreate the weapon ... and tells them to RUN ... that's fucked, man ...

Yeah ... that is a whole lot of stone to be dropping out of the sky all at once ...

Meanwhile every one of these mortal gods is DESTROYED ...

Fuck ... Noshir and Laura make us cry with the Emissary's passing on ...

At least Cassida's boy is saved at the last ... that's sweet...

Asha becomes a wolf again before she's destroyed ... yeah ... I love that ...

Ayden wishes he could have saved Aeor instead of this ... even at the end he was trying to do the right thing ...

Wow ... Asmodeus is just as much of a drama queen as I expected him to be ...

The Wildmother and the Crawling King really do have a very complicated relationship ... but there's something quite beautiful in it, too ...

Trist heals Cassida's body again, and at least they can bring her peace. Her heart's breaking, she wishes she could've done more ... fuck ... finally she lets go after an embrace with the Matron, and she's the last to become what she TRULY is ... the Everlight ...

Ah ... family ... even in suffering, it's sweet ...

So that's it for Aeor, then ...

The Lawbearer: "We killed them for being good." Ouch ...

Wow ... so even after all this, they're STILL going to go back to war with the Betrayers ... oof ...

Goodbyes all round, then ... oh boy ... more tears ... great ...

The Threads of Fate ... fuck ... that's still beautiful ...

Right to the end, then, the Dawnfather remains the most human of all of them. Always THE BEST of what they can be. That's powerful ...

Classic Brennan Mulligan epilogue, then ... and he's gone ...

Welcome back, Matt ...

And so we segue back into the main story of Campaign Three all over again ... setting things up for the next session, then ...

Is it Thursday yet?

[jumbled-messy-confused]

The Subtle Art of Subterfuge

Summary:

The relentless pressures of command and the weight of unspoken burdens push General Kirigan to the brink of collapse. To safeguard their leader’s well-being, Ivan and Fedyor must navigate their own concerns, master the delicate balance of loyalty and tactical overstepping, and, quite incidentally, mislead the Tsar himself to ensure Kirigan gets some much-needed rest. Amidst the chaos of war, a story of loyalty, duty, and quiet moments of humanity unfolds, revealing the cost of responsibility and the strength found in vulnerability.

Notes:

This story is an AU. It takes place before Alina turns up. Kirigan is not the villain he will be later in the series. Please note that English is not my first language, but I did my best to find most mistakes. (Feel free to point them out to me!). I took certain creative liberties, particularly with respect to Ivans view of the Tsar and the characterization of the main characters but I hope, you will just roll with it. And now have fun! And thank you for reading.

The campaign tent in Kribirsk, battered by the relentless winds, mirrored the week's unyielding pressures. Outside, the gales threatened to rip the canvas from its moorings, while inside, General Kirigan sat hunched over a desk that served as the command centre for his strategic planning. Maps of troop movements and supply lines were spread out before him, an extensive compilation of data that demanded his attention. The weak light of a lantern flickered, struggling against the gloom of the day, casting long shadows over the documents that held the key to future manoeuvres. The air was bitterly cold, the kind that clawed at your flesh and settled deep within your bones. The sky, a blanket of unyielding greys, promised nothing but the continuation of the dreary cold. Kirigan, however, seemed detached from the world around him, his focus solely on sifting through and organizing the intelligence, his occasional coughs stifled in the crook of his arm when he thought no one was watching.

Outside, the restless shifting of horses and the sound of hooves stamping impatiently against the ground filled the air, as Ivan and Fedyor had prepared them for departure at Kirigan's earlier command. Having returned to the tent, they found Kirigan still deeply engrossed in prioritizing the information for his report to the tsar, oblivious to their presence and the readiness of the horses. "He looks like death," Ivan muttered under his breath, as Kirigan massaged his temples, a gesture betraying a weariness that seemed too profound for one man to bear. Fedyor's nod, almost imperceptible, came as a silent agreement to his grim assessment.

Their voices were a hushed murmur, barely audible over the howl of the wind and the occasional snort of the horses outside. They stood at the edge of the tent, their eyes never straying from Kirigan, who seemed to have sunken further into his chair, another quiet sign of his waning strength. Ivan's mind replayed the morning's decisions, the subtle signs of Kirigan's decline that he had failed to recognize. Regret gnawed at him as he recalled the healers' departure, a move that seemed prudent amidst the chaos at the front lines and the multitude of wounded there. Now, witnessing Kirigan's deteriorating condition, Ivan couldn't shake the feeling that he should have insisted on keeping at least one healer in the camp. And yet, there was a part of him that knew Kirigan too well, the pride that would not allow weakness to be displayed, the same pride that now left Ivan questioning whether any of them could have seen through the façade.

"We can't let him ride like this," Fedyor breathed, his words just about reaching Ivan's ears over the snapping of the tent’s fabric in the fierce wind. "He's barely holding on."

With a furrowed brow, Ivan’s thoughts whirled with potential solutions. Then, inspiration struck. “We’ll warn him of a brewing snowstorm,” he murmured, the idea crystallizing as he spoke, “and suggest that taking the carriage is merely a precaution against the weather.” He was certain Kirigan would reject any notion of rest, but he might be persuaded to seek shelter from a storm for practical reasons. As another cough racked Kirigan's frame, this time his face half-shielded by both hands in a vain attempt to stifle the sound, his companions knew it was time to act. Exchanging a resolute glance, they nodded to each other, a silent accord reached. Without a word, they began to implement their hastily formed plan, each move deliberate, their resolve unwavering.

With determined steps, they approached their general, their faces etched with solemnity. "General, the weather is turning," Ivan began, his voice cutting through the mournful tune of the wind against the canvas. "A blizzard is coming. It would be unwise to travel on horseback."

Kirigan’s eyes, clouded with fatigue, lifted to meet theirs. A subtle crease formed between his brows, a brief sign of his bewilderment. “The report,” he stated, his voice hoarse, “You do realize I must deliver it to the Tsar this evening.” "And it will be delivered," Fedyor assured him, standing close but careful not to overstep boundaries. "If we set out now, we will arrive in time. The carriage ride will offer you the quiet needed to finalize it. It's better to have it ready upon arrival than to rush through it before presenting yourself to the Tsar." For a moment, Kirigan’s gaze lingered on the maps scattered across the desk, lost in silent contemplation of the journey ahead. Then, with a weary resolve, he gave a tired nod, too spent to notice the fabricated tale of the impending storm - or maybe simply too spent to argue. With a deep breath, he began the methodical process of gathering the carefully selected documents, ensuring that each piece of intelligence was ready to form the basis of his report to the Tsar. Meanwhile, Fedyor slipped out of the tent, no doubt making the necessary arrangements for the carriage and their departure.

By the time Kirigan had completed his preparations, Fedyor had returned. They exchanged a look of relief, a mutual understanding that they had successfully diverted their general from a dangerous course.

As the carriage trundled away from the camp, Kirigan delved into the pages before him with a concentration that defied his evident exhaustion. He pored over the reports, annotated and corrected with a meticulous hand.

Yet, as the afternoon progressed, Ivan could see the toll it was taking on him. His once precise movements over the papers became sluggish, and his intense focus seemed to drift. A subtle shift in Fedyor’s stance told him that his partner had also noticed Kirigan’s waning alertness. As if in response, the shadows within the carriage seemed to deepen, casting a pall over Kirigan’s features, mirroring the fatigue that was slowly closing his eyes.  And finally, the inevitable happened; Kirigan’s head nodded forward, succumbing to the exhaustion that overpowered even his formidable spirit. Fedyor, his gaze lingering on the now peaceful face of his general, allowed a rare, soft sigh to escape—a sound that resonated with Ivan’s own sense of relief. He was quick to secure the reports before they could scatter across the carriage floor, all the while feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders at the sight of his superior finally surrendering to much-needed sleep. Catching Fedyor’s eye, Ivan allowed himself a brief, shared glance of satisfaction, before he set to work, mirroring the general’s earlier meticulousness. Yet, despite the focus the task demanded, Ivan’s gaze continually returned to Kirigan, vigilantly monitoring for any signs of his condition worsening.

The carriage’s movements were subtle yet unyielding, each bump in the road nudging Kirigan’s form. His body, limp in his exhaustion, shifted incrementally with the carriage’s rhythm, inching ever closer to the cold, unforgiving wall. Fedyor, observing the subtle movement, leapt from his seat and reached Kirigan just as his body began to lean perilously to the side. With a deft movement, Fedyor stopped his descent, his arms wrapping around the general with practiced ease. He then maneuvered himself into the corner, his repositioning allowing Kirigan to recline securely against him, his head now resting against Fedyor’s chest.

His worry deepened as Ivan watched how his partner adjusted his hold on the sick man, ensuring he was securely anchored against him. The fact that Kirigan did not react to being moved that way spoke volumes of his condition, revealing an exhaustion so profound it verged on unconsciousness. With the weight of concern pressing on his chest, Ivan’s hands resumed their task over the reports, continuing the work that the general could no longer manage. The carriage’s rhythmic sway became a backdrop to his focused task, each line of text a step towards completion, building upon the substantial groundwork laid by Kirigan before succumbing to fatigue. The General’s breaths were shallow, and despite Fedyor’s efforts to steady him, his body was occasionally wracked with coughs that threatened to dislodge him from his protective embrace. Then, in the moments of calm between the spasms, a new problem made itself known. Kirigan’s form began to tremble, a visible shudder that spoke of a fever’s encroaching grip. Fedyor’s hand moved to Kirigan’s forehead, his touch confirming the heat that was rising from within. “He’s burning up,” he whispered, his voice a soft echo in the close confines of the carriage.

In response, Ivan gently draped his thick, red cloak over Kirigan's trembling form. The rich color of the fabric stood out vividly against the general's pale complexion. He arranged the cloak with a practiced ease, ensuring every shiver was met with a layer of warmth. As his Heartrender abilities allowed him to perceive the changes in the General’s condition, he was acutely aware of how rapid the rhythm of Kirigan’s pulse had become, an invisible yet palpable sign of the fever raging within. He also noticed each subtle hint of energy as Fedyor intervened, gently coaxing the pulse to slow when respiratory distress tightened Kirigan’s breath or when he began to shift restlessly, striving to maintain a semblance of calm and afford Kirigan whatever measure of rest he could amidst the bouts of coughing.

After Ivan finally had finished the report for the tsar, he leaned back in his seat, his gaze lingering on the face of his leader. The dark circles under Kirigan's eyes were not just signs of his acute illness but also of the relentless days and sleepless nights of the last weeks. His features, though drawn and reflecting a weight loss that his slender frame could ill afford, did not convey frailty but rather an unsettling delicacy. It was as if the hardships had sculpted away any excess, leaving behind the essence of a man who bore his burdens with an unwavering resolve.

Kirigan's face, unusually soft in his deep state of exhaustion, appeared youthful, almost disarmingly so. It seemed out of place with the heavy responsibilities he carried—a stark contrast to the power and command he wielded. Ivan felt a twinge of something akin to protectiveness, a desire to shield this man who, in these quiet moments, seemed too burdened for his years.

The carriage wheels spun a steady rhythm against the cobblestones, the sound a constant undercurrent to the General's labored breathing. As the Little Palace neared, Ivan caught Fedyor's eye, a silent signal passing between them. It was time to wake Kirigan, to give him a moment to gather himself before they rolled into the courtyard. Fedyor leaned in, his voice a low murmur, "General, we're nearing the Palace." The words were a gentle summons, pulling Kirigan from the depths of his fevered rest.

Kirigan's response was a mere flutter of eyelids, a slow drift back into consciousness. His eyes, normally so clear and commanding, now were glassy with unspoken suffering. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his body seemed weakened, as if the strength that once defined him was now but a whisper of what it had been. Ivan caught the subtle shift in Kirigan’s expression, a hint of realization dawning as he apparently became aware of the protective embrace encircling him. As he slowly turned his head, his gaze found Fedyor’s. There was no surprise in his eyes, only the weary acceptance of a man too tired to question the comfort offered. He did not comment, nor did he need to; their years of camaraderie spoke in the silence between them. Then, gathering the remnants of his strength, Kirigan attempted to rise, his movements tentative and slow. But his effort to sit up was a struggle; his body seemingly resisted every command. Fedyor, perceptive to his General’s plight, stepped in. With a firm yet careful grip, he aided Kirigan to an upright position, providing the support his weakened state demanded.

"You need the healers," Ivan's voice was a gentle yet firm declaration, cutting through the silence of the carriage’s shadowed confines. In the briefest of pauses, a shadow of awareness seemed to pass over Kirigan’s features, hinting at the pressing responsibilities that lay in wait. “The report for the Tsar…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, the effort to speak visibly taxing him. Ivan interjected softly, ‘It’s completed, General. I’ve seen to its finish, and I’ll ensure it’s delivered to His Majesty.’ He placed a reassuring hand on Kirigan’s shoulder, feeling the fever’s heat radiating through his Kefta. ‘Your well-being is paramount now. Let us take care of you.’ In the dim light, Kirigan's eyes became a battleground. In a fleeting moment there was a clash of pride against the stark reality of his physical limits, a duel between the ingrained sense of duty that defined him and the creeping exhaustion that threatened to overpower his will.

The struggle within was evident, yet, beneath the surface, there was a weariness, a fatigue so profound it seemed to echo in the very air around him.

Ivan watched, his heart heavy with a mix of respect and concern, as Kirigan's resolve wavered, his eyes closing wearily in a moment of exhaustion. And then, with a slow, almost imperceptible nod, Kirigan conceded, an admission of his humanity that Ivan had seldom seen.

As the carriage came to a halt in the sparsely populated courtyard of the Little Palace, the murmur within ceased, drawing curious glances from a few Grisha scattered around. Ivan opened the carriage door, his gaze briefly sweeping over the onlookers before fixating intently on Kirigan, who was next to disembark. The General, looking more vulnerable than ever, emerged into the evening light, his body swaying perilously. To the untrained eye, his movements might have seemed deliberate, a mere adjustment to stepping onto solid ground after a long carriage ride. The General’s face, however, told a different story. Already pale, it now turned a ghastly shade of white. Kirigan’s lips, usually set in a firm line, faded within seconds into two bloodless streaks. Tiny beads of sweat erupted across his forehead, and his hand gripped the carriage’s frame with a trembling strength. It was a rapid transformation, one that laid bare the severity of his condition to those who knew him best. Fedyor, who had swiftly exited the carriage as well, was quick to offer support, sliding Kirigan’s arm around his shoulder in a firm yet gentle hold. Ivan, recognizing the action as a stark highlight of the General’s poor condition, was slightly shocked by Fedyor’s forwardness. He himself would have never dared to expose the General’s weakness so openly. But surprisingly, Kirigan simply acknowledged the need for support in front of his subordinates and leaned exhausted into the strength provided by his loyal companion.

The few onlookers’ expressions morphed from casual interest to stark alarm as they witnessed their usually indomitable leader falter. A gasp rippled through the crowd, and an observant guard immediately stepped forward, her gaze meeting Kirigan’s for a fleeting moment, a silent question hanging between them. With a weary nod, Kirigan granted permission, and she carefully placed his other arm over her shoulder, mirroring Fedyor’s supportive stance. Together, the trio began their measured procession towards the infirmary, Fedyor and the guard synchronizing their steps, moving with deliberate care to match the General’s weakened pace. The door guard, having kept a watchful eye on the unfolding scene, seamlessly swung the palace doors open just as the trio set into motion. His actions were a quiet echo of the shared concern for the General, and as they moved toward the infirmary, it was clear that others within the palace were equally ready to provide aid, their actions reflecting a collective sense of care for their leader. Ivan watched them leave, appreciating as Kirigan permitted himself to be helped. To admit vulnerability was not a sign of weakness but a testament to true strength, and Ivan knew that in allowing himself to be cared for, Kirigan only garnered more sympathy and solidarity from those around him. With the knowledge that his General was in good hands, Ivan turned his attention to the task ahead. Though the prospect of addressing the Tsar was a necessary evil, the loyalty he held for Kirigan outweighed his personal contempt. Standing before the throne on behalf of his leader was a duty he accepted without hesitation, but driven by loyalty to Kirigan alone, rather than any reverence for the man who wore the crown. With the report clutched securely under his arm, Ivan’s stride was purposeful as he entered the throne room. The Tsar, ensconced upon his grand throne, looked up with a flicker of annoyance, his brow furrowing in a frown. ‘Where is Kirigan?’ he demanded, his voice echoing off the high walls.

“Circumstances necessitated his immediate conveyance to the healers, Your Majesty," Ivan began, his voice laden with the gravity of the situation. "Ravaged by a fever of vehement intensity, he was found to be without consciousness for a significant portion of our journey. It was imperative that he receive medical attention forthwith.” Ivan’s declaration, filled with a solemnity that bordered on the sepulchral, left the Tsar with no room for doubt about the direness of the General’s condition, effectively forestalling any thoughts of summoning him, despite his illness.

Ivan’s carefully chosen words had the desired effect, and he could see that his strategic embellishment had achieved precisely what he intended. A sense of satisfaction began to settle within him as he noted the softened expression of the sovereign. "In all these years, this has never happened," the Tsar murmured, his initial irritation giving way to a look of profound concern. "He must indeed be gravely ill." Just as Ivan was about to bask in the success of his ruse, the Tsar continued. "I trust you will serve as his proxy in the coming week until he has fully recovered.” The voice of authority resonated with a clear expectation of duty. “I appreciate your diligence in this matter.” Ivan could barely keep a straight face as the Tsar’s words sank in, internally berating himself for the corner he’d painted himself into. Yet, he quickly regained his composure. “The General would surely honour Your Majesty’s concern with great esteem,” he mustered. “Now, if I may, I shall relay the particulars of his report.” He then proceeded to deliver the details contained within the documents, his presentation precise and thorough. As he concluded, the Tsar nodded, a gesture of satisfaction at the information provided, and with a dismissive wave, he signalled Ivan’s leave. The casual flick of the wrist, as if swatting away an annoyance, gave Ivan ample reason to suppress a disdainful sigh. But with a final respectful bow, he excused himself, successfully suppressing the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation as he maintained a dignified exit. Once beyond the Tsar’s scrutiny, the formalities of the court faded into irrelevance, and he quickened his pace, eager to make his way to the healing quarters.

The infirmary was a sanctuary of serenity. The healers, with their practiced quietude, moved like shadows, their presence felt more in the gentle touch and the soft rustle of fabric than in any spoken word. They guided Ivan with subtle gestures, a tilt of the head or a slight wave of the hand, directing him to a secluded corner where General Kirigan lay resting.

There, in the dimming light, Kirigan’s form was a still silhouette against the crisp linens of the infirmary bed. The healers had divested him of his Kefta and tunic, the heavy garments replaced by the comfort of soft, thick blankets that had been tucked around him with meticulous care. His sleep was deep and undisturbed, the kind that only comes after exhaustion has wrung every last drop of wakefulness from the body. Though his features remained pale and drawn, the feverish sheen had left his skin, and the terrible cough that had racked him these last hours was now absent, replaced by the steady rhythm of peaceful breaths.

Fedyor, ever the vigilant guardian, had pulled a chair close to the bedside. His posture, usually so rigid and alert, now betrayed a hint of weariness, the tension of the long journey ebbing away in the tranquillity of the room. Yet, his eyes remained fixed on Kirigan, a silent promise of protection that had been upheld throughout their arduous trek. Upon Ivan’s arrival at the bedside, Fedyor’s gaze lifted from Kirigan to his partner. His eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of curiosity and concern. "Is everything alright?" he whispered, the question barely more than a breath.

Ivan's smile wavered, a hint of sheepish guilt flickering across his features. "Let's just say the General has been granted a few days of... enforced rest," he murmured back, his voice tinged with a mix of satisfaction and apprehension.

"What did you do?" Fedyor's tone was half-amused, half-astonished, as he leaned in closer.

Ivan recounted the tale in hushed tones, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he detailed the slight liberties he had taken with the truth—his delivery so convincing that the Tsar was genuinely alarmed for Kirigan’s well-being, compelling Ivan to step in for the entire following week. A silent chuckle shook Fedyor's frame, and he reached out to pat Ivan's arm affectionately. "Well, you'll have quite the story to share with him once he's awake," he said, his voice a soft murmur of amusement. "Good luck explaining this one."

Ivan's smile deepened, not only from the humor of the situation, but from the relief that Kirigan was finally at peace, the harsh cough and feverish delirium replaced by the gentle rise and fall of his chest in sleep. There was no regret in Ivan’s heart, only the certainty that it was right to lift some of the burdens from this exhausted man.

So he settled into the quiet vigil beside Fedyor, the two men again united in their silent watch over their General. The evening’s calm enveloped the room, the candlelight casting a gentle glow. Outside, the wind, once a roaring force, now murmured a tranquil respite, echoing the day’s earlier turmoil yet soothing in its current hush. In this secluded space, only the steady breathing of the resting General filled the air. The world outside continued its restless dance, but within these walls, there was a shared moment of peace, a quiet affirmation of the enduring spirit that bound them together through every trial.

[ericleo108]

Lupe Fiasco & Chris Webby vaccine Twitter  debate summary NOTES by Eric Leo 108

Wed Jan 11th 2023 2 hour twitter convo

These are my thoughts and summary of what I heard. The timestamps in the description

Samson reaction video, Webby Tweet

Most of These rappers have no idea what they’re talking about.

Lupe is actually quite intelligent and defining his terms.

The definition of government and establishment is not the same.

As Voltaire would say, if you wish to quarrel with me, define your terms.

It seem Chris it’s getting his thoughts and feelings from his tribe, but when he’s analyzed he can’t definitively express those feelings which makes him adjust his opinion because it’s not thought out

Like how Chris says Lupe shifted his stance without ever being able to articulate what he was talking about

Chris seems like a well intentioned decent gentleman but really needs too educate himself and not listen to the news.

24:15 from 2 hr

Chris is talking about how he doesn’t trust the world economic forum but doesn’t see how that relates although what Lupe is saying is their not an authority

“The people who control the official narrative on the vaccine are the people that research and make the vaccines”

You get the gist that Chris Webby really just doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

It seems rand Paul’s anti-Fauci product campaign has infiltrated the mind of Chris Webby.

35:10 Robert malone

This is indicative of other people, but

I love how Chris has no common sense

He doesn’t understand the vaccine

And instead of taking the recommendation of the overwhelming majority of doctors

Chris webby is clinging to the one scientist that regrets it

Like 99 out of 100 doctors are telling you to get the vaccine and can prove its effectiveness and you cling to the minuscule 1 after never understanding how vaccines work, how they made, or who stands to benefit correctly.

Again, he can’t find his terms he thinks secondhand information is first hand.

I agree with Lupe, Chris is a good guy but has no idea what he’s talking about.

The reason Chris can’t get out his whole statement is because it’s so demonstrably false, misleading, or vague Lupe forces him to clarify which triggers webby.

This is a true example of how to negate your opponent.

You have the premise and subject. What most people have is the subject based off a false premise, that’s how propaganda works. Lupes tactic here is to attack their premise with its fundamental in making a cogent argument.

41:50

Missing details

That creates a false equivalency

Chris thinks adverse effects means terrible repercussions when it really just means regular procedural affect and mistakes.

Chris says there’s a lot of things he does know, but this discussion was evidence that when pressed he can’t articulate facts.

He’s getting this false information from the right.

Vaccines are like global warming in that there is no reason to deny the science, it’s clearly happening & shots are clearly effective

Basically the best way to tell if you deny global warming is to ask their political association.

The reason people don’t believe is gop political affiliation which represents faith & “freedom” (ie recklessness) & investments in carbon fuel

I did this whole thing to show how stupid the average person  is.

Just because You have a bunch of followers and can regurgitate incorrect Republican talking points doesn’t mean your right.

We need better education. Debunking conspiracies and formal logic in schools

And reinstate the fairness in reporting doctrine

48:00

Sudden adult death syndrome conspiracy

Scientists rarely change the fundamentals

The details, methods, and understanding get updated

When people say, the Earth is overpopulated, it’s not that the Earth is overpopulated, it’s that the resources we consume, aren’t renewable and contribute to the decline of the biosphere.

We’re bad bacteria on the earth that adversely affects other life the larger our population.

Chris Webby gets caught multiple time saying he doesn’t know to pivotal questions and interprets this as Lupe not letting him talk.

The fact that Chris says he’s not an anti-Vaxter, but just had a problem with particular vaccine coraborates my point that he’s not representing the science and facts but rather a wrong political ideology

This is what I’m talking about with the political stance. Chris trusts vaccines but not the one that republicans have made talking points for people to think their right about.

1:25:00

Chris wants a black and white answer when he needs to be making a risk management analysis.

The chances of you getting COVID and the repercussions are higher than the possible side effects you might experience from the vaccine.

1:32:00

I’m glad they finally got into the weeds on affects.

Again Chris clearly doesn’t know what he’s talking about when he doesn’t understand the words and their meaning.

Lupe Is literally asking Chris to define a word that he is using in the premise of his argument. Who’s subject is the vaccine is dangerous. And Chris says it’s a loaded question.

It’s clear Chris isn’t highly educated or even been to a debate.

Unlike MaDonald, who I think does this for clout

Chris just believes his own ignorance

The line of questioning that Lupe presented was required to extract the truth and Chris misidentifies his ignorance as not allowing his side to talk.

Chris didn’t bring anything credible to the table to argue, and then they did argue, Then Chris can’t define his own words and accuses Lupe of not addressing which I’m also addressing here.

Ignorance reigns which is why almost half America is republican

I’ll tell you what doesn’t make sense Chris

Sudden adult Death syndrome makes about as much sense as spontaneous human combustion and probably happens just as often.

The risk assessment you did for getting the vaccine

That you don’t understand basic medical words but have to the audacity to condemn fauci

Lupe handled himself like an adult and did what he was supposed to do while Chris felt attacked  for not defining his argument.

Chris is an example of how ignorance and the republican agenda hurts America

In Summary

Lupe: you’re either trusting COVID or your trusting a vaccine which is safe and effective

Thank you donating to that wildlife foundation Chris.

News recommendations

Mother jones  Democracy now Philip DeFranco

[starstruckodysseys]

it’s been over a year since i posted this and i regret to inform you all i have not yet used this as a reaction image. i’m sorry for misleading you all </3

using this as a reaction image. not sure what to but i will be using it

[byarcadiaorg]

★✩✩✩✩

Title:

Scam DO NOT SIGN

Pros:

- drawing opportunities and writing opportunities

Cons:

I spend three months on the project as an illustrator, I was not asked for a portfolio or any technical questions. The interview was too easy and unprofessional some would say. I didn't think of it much since this was supposed to be a volunteership. On my contract, it was stated this is a Volunteership agreement, badly written and with grammatical English mistakes. Despite that, it is also stated that you are supposed to pay 300 Euro if you leave early before the 14 days period. At some point after my drawings were constantly rejected with random criticisms and passive-aggressive feedback I decided to not waste my precious time any longer since I seriously consider art and my style was just not what the company needed. So I sent an email to HR requesting more info on my resignation. They immediately removed me from the project and sent me the threatening letter everyone received, with the CEO's [Doğukan Ejder's] IBAN. I immediately consulted my two Lawyers who informed me that the contract is not valid because according to UK/EU law which they looooove shoving to your face, they should pay "volunteers" low wages. The contract is not valid, this is a scam to get 300 out of you, since on the contract it is stated that their training (non-existant btw) is worth 300EU and thats why you need to pay them. When someone offers you a benefit like this (just like giving you 300euro) you are not considered a volunteer. I was also misled by my art consultant because she told me to write that I am aware of the Breach of contract on my email, even though I just wanted to know more info on how I can leave. I shouldn't have trusted any of them. Please dont make the same mistake…I deeply regret the wasted time and effort I gave just to constantly be mislead,threatened, exploited and treated unprofessionally from this so called Non profit organization who Ironically asks you for money even though there are no expenses since no one gets paid. Plus all their lawyers are students. What a Joke… I work in a Corporate organization in the UK we constantly deal with UK and EU laws and consumer rights don't believe them and don't fall victim to their scam just ignore everything.

Advice to Management:

You deserve to be in jail.

— former Illustrator at Arcadia, GlassDoor, 14 April 2023

[musecaravan-info]

Finn Ilios

"You are magic. Don't ever apologize for the fire in you." ~ Unknown ~

Basic Information

FACE/BODY CLAIM: Amy Adams

AGE: Very Old; born in 8000 BCE - probably during the summer months

EYES: A blue so pale it's almost disconcerting

HAIR: Bright Orange; she usually wears it long and loose down her back

HEIGHT: 5'4

PRIMARY OUTFIT: She loves a variety of styles, but the themes tend to stay the same: lots of warm colors - red, orange, gold, yellow - with a splash of shine, sparkle, or glitter as accents

Personality

On the outside Finn had a very bubbly, friendly demeanor - it’s not all that she is, but it does play a large part. This is what often gives others the impression that she’s naïve or simple-minded. It’s not a façade, per say, it’s just how she chooses to be - to always see the happiness and good in things. She knows there’s bad and evil in the world, but she doesn’t want to give it power by acknowledging its existence. Like all dragons, she has a wisdom that isn’t often matched (even by Apollo) and if someone managed to make her angry it would come in a sharp burst of intensity - the kind where she wouldn’t realize or regret what she’d said or done until she’d had a chance to calm down.

Powers & Weaknesses

To avoid repetitiveness, go here.

Romance

Finn isn’t an overly sexual creature, despite how one might be mislead by her physical appearance and overly-friendly personality. She’s not immediately going to hit on someone she finds attractive, although she will openly and honestly compliment them. But Finn doesn’t see it as the same thing - she’s just being honest - not flirty. However, she appreciates sex as an act that creates pleasure for both partners, and is rarely offended or put-off when someone expresses an interest in her. Finn also doesn’t see any reason why two people need to be ‘in love’ to take part in such things, so if she were propositioned, she wouldn’t be likely to say no if the one suggesting it was someone she found physically attractive. There might be other things which would factor in that might lead her to say no (like a really terrible personality) but in general, she won’t.

Where to Find Her

Finn is one of those people that can be found just about anywhere, so in regards to picking a place to start an RP, I'm pretty flexible. Here are some generic ideas:

Ballet/Music/Theater performance

City park/botanical garden

Famous landmarks

Fashion show

Museum

Verses

Just because a verse isn't listed here doesn't mean I'm not interested in writing it. I adore all kinds of AUs, and welcome the chance to get creative with my muses. If you've seen a verse that another of my muses has, and you'd like to see this muse in something similar, let me know. You can also check out my 'Plot Ideas' tag, too. ^_^

Main Verse:

Finn's main verse can actually be explored in this bio post. It seems silly to re-type it all here. ^_^;

Current/Ongoing Threads

If your thread with Finn isn't listed here it's probably because it's been long enough since your last reply that I thought you'd dropped it. Message me to let me know you're still interested, and I'll happily add you to the list (with no pressure for a reply.) ♡

Marcella:

The Nature Of Secrets

Stuff That's Good to Know Before Starting a Thread

She has a sun-shaped scar over her heart where Apollo critically wounded her.

Apollo was the love of her life - her mate; there won't ever be anyone who comes close to him. However, that doesn't mean Finn isn't capable of caring/loving someone new. It won't be the same for her, but she can still show affection for someone given enough time and trust.

Links

Please keep in mind, this blog is an ongoing work in progress. Not all of these links may lead somewhere, but they're here because they link to potential tags for this muse.

All Things Finn

Headcanons

Drabbles

All Threads

Ask Replies

Meme Replies

Aesthetics

Face

Special Links

Original Blog

Finn's Wardrobe

Return To Full Muse List

[nomenomens]

Nomen

Chapter XXXI - Sweet

TW : none for now, but please check 'About Nomen' for more informations

WC : around 2700 words

Previous Chapter : They Don't Know You Like I Do

Next Chapter : I Want You To Want Me (side A - side B)

Masterlist

**********************************************

June 7, Tuesday, 12:49 (present time)

“No regrets” were the words I had decided to live by. It was a promise I had made to myself before anyone else. That was my reason for running towards her place. Not knowing what she wanted to do and her missing my calls made me more uneasy that I wanted to admit. There was no escape from this kind of feeling. I jumped from rooftop to rooftop until I got to her terrace. I was afraid that in the few minutes of my hesitation she would’ve done something stupid, but then I saw her, with her gaze fixed on some kind of book on her desk. Was I being too paranoid? Was she actually safe and I was just expecting the worst without a solid motive? Was I losing my marbles without a cause after all this time fighting? I got closer to her window, open but with an insect screen on, and she finally noticed me. I heard her say something in her native language, judging from her surprised face, she had probably sweared ad me. She opened the insect screen and let me in, without saying another word. She scanned the surroundings before closing it and finally talk to me. 

“Please, tell me you didn’t use the maneuver.”

“I did.”

“Shit. What if someone saw you?”

“Are you worried about your neighbours or Sebastian?”

She walked past me while sighing and sit t at the edge of her bed, signaling me to do the same beside her. I followed her directions and seated at a fair distance from her, looking straight at me, towards her messy library and shelves. I was itching with the urge to bring order to her room, but this wasn’t the time to think about it. 

“Why are you here? We just talked over the phone.”

“You didn’t let me finish and ignored my calls.”

“…So?”

“What do you mean ‘so’? Are you actually dumb?”

“Are you here to insult me?”

“I’m here because I-“

I shut myself before I got to tell her words that could’ve been misleading, like “worried”. I was worried, but what Sebastian said about her having a type and whatnot made me conscious. I cleared my voice before continuing while looking into her eyes. 

“…because I think we need a plan.”

“To do what?”

“You need to know what I said exactly so you can lie better.”

“You didn’t strike to me as a professional liar.”

“I don’t like to lie, but it has its perks when dealing with some other pieces of shit like your butler. Now listen to me.”

As I was explaining the details she froze and look past behind me. I instinctively turned my face to look through the window at my back, but she blocked my movement with both hands, forcing me to look straight into my eyes and whispering.

“Stop me.”

“Wh-“

I couldn’t even finish my sentence or get a grip of the situation that her lips were pressed on mine. I placed my hands on her shoulders to push her back, but then I noticed how she was trembling. She had forced the kiss on me, but with the most gentle and shy touch I had ever experienced, completely different from…him. Erwin could be gentle, but in his gestures there was a sense of confidence that had never made him tremble against me, not even during our goodbyes. I closed my eyes and let myself sink in that new sensation for a brief moment. Why did she suddenly decided to kiss me? What happened behind my shoulders to make her act like that? I realized that with her involved, there were always a million questions without answers. She brushed her fingers against my jawline while interrupting the kiss. She kept her face a few millimeters from mine and whispered.

“W-why didn’t you stop me?”

As much as I wanted to answer, I couldn’t do it. I didn’t have a reason. Maybe I just wanted a human and kind touch after so long. Maybe I wasn’t that surprised by her gesture as she thought I would be. Maybe I wasn’t repelled by her at all. Maybe there was a deeper reason behind all of my senseless worrying for her. Maybe I was pitying her. She took her distance, relaxing her back and letting her hand fell down in the space between us. I let her shoulders go and regained my position. 

“I…don’t know. You surprised me. But why did you…?”

“I saw Sebastian on the terrace. I think he’s gone now. You should go, I’ll take care of this, as I told you before. I’ll talk to you later. Now, if you please…”

She got up without even looking at me and went in front of the window, looking outside, probably to make sure Sebastian wasn’t there anymore. Suddenly I remembered about her fiancée, I think his name was Albert. She probably wasn’t trembling because of me, but because she was doing something she should’t have done from the beginning. I probably had given myself too much credit. I walked towards the door of her room. I was going to go back at the villa, this time walking away as an ordinary human being, without risking to be seen using the maneuver as I did just a few minutes prior. I put my hand on the handle.

“If you need me to clear up things with your fiancée, I’ll help explain the situation, you don’t have to worry.”

I closed the door without waiting for her answer, using more strength than I wished to. 

*************************************************

“Stop me.”

“Wh-“

I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his, putting more and more pressure as seconds went by. I could feel his gaze on me even with my eyes closed. I didn’t want to force myself on him this way, even if it was just a simple kiss, but that was the only thing my brain could formulate as a solution to take time as soon as I saw Sebastian’s shadow outside the window. I felt his hands over my shoulders and I was ready to feel him pushing me back, but that didn’t happen. I slowly opened my eyes and looked at the Captain’s features from a new perspective. He had never been this close to me before. His sharpe eyebrows were frowning a little, but his expression didn’t seem so troubled as I would’ve expected, as his eyes seemed to be closed without being hardly shut. His face showed no particular emotion: whether he was feeling something good or bad I didn’t have a clue, as if he felt complete indifference towards what was happening. And yet, he was so beautiful. As I released some tension, slowly relaxing my shoulders, I thought I would’ve paid to pass my fingers through his hair, to deepen the kiss and brings us closer, but it wasn’t the right time to do so, even if this was the only occasion I could’ve gained. I checked out with the corner of my eye that Sebastian was gone before reluctantly distancing myself from him. I was selfish enough to let my fingers travel along his cheeks though, a small victory was all I needed. I wanted to apologize, but my lips decided to tell something different, a question so burning and spontaneous I could’t control. 

“W-Why didn’t you stop me?”

He could've stopped me. He should've stopped me. I had even asked him to do so beforehand, so if he decided to let me kiss him, maybe he wasn't grossed out by my action, maybe I could hope it meant something. Before answering, ho took his sweet time looking at me in silence, with a deadpan expression. I tried to scan through the corner of his eyes, his lips, his forehead, just to catch a glimpse of a single emotion to hold on to, but nothing happened. 

“I…don’t know. You surprised me. But why did you…?”

Surprised. That made sense. What else he could’ve felt if not ‘surprise’. I was a fool to even hope our kiss could’ve meant something more. It was improvised and forced upon him too, of course he wouldn’t feel something. On the opposite end, I was burning. My lips were still trembling as they did before, my hands were shaking, itching with the need to feel him again and again. I dismissed him with a few whispered words, before I could say or do something really stupid. I had to think about what to say to Sebastian anyway. As I was catching my breath, looking outside the window, I heard him speak. 

“If you need me to clear up things with your fiancée, I’ll help explain the situation, you don’t have to worry.”

So he remembered Albert. I made a mental note to explain to him better about that situation. Even if the only thing he felt was guilt because of Albert, it would’ve been better to clear the misunderstanding. The door closed loudly and I sighed deeply, turning to go back to my desk. I brought my hand towards my lips, ghosting my fingertips as to replicate his lips’ touch. I blushed to my own action as I felt my heart thump loud against my chest and so I tried to calm it down by patting my hand above it. After a few minutes, a voice interrupted me.

“I never thought you would’ve done it.”

“Me neither.”

Sebastian entered from the window, knowing the trick to open the insect screen from the outside. 

“So, that was why you said we needed to stop?”

“No…I need to focus on my study for real. And even if I wanted to, he simply can’t be the reason why I decided to stop.”

“Why? He seemed invested enough.”

“He wasn’t. I like him, but he doesn’t like me. When he helped me with Akura-Ou I…misinterpreted his actions. I got angry at him and then at myself for being so pathetic. What you saw was just me being stubborn. He came to…tell me about how you were sure I was acting strange and I’ve asked him to…not reveal my confession, but earlier you…”

“You were acting suspicious. You knew I would’ve looked into it.”

“I just didn’t want to admit my weaknesses to you.”

He scoffed while adjusting a lock of my hair behind my ear, after rolling it a few times around his finger, a gesture he used to do a long time ago. He was clearly amused, but I couldn’t properly decipher his intention or thoughts. Was this enough? Should I say something more or be more specific? 

“Silly little girl. You know I already know all of them. I knew you liked him, but I was surprised when he clearly kept your secret this morning. By the way, I can teach you how to seduce him, even if I think he’s more into…let’s say other kind of people. But you did manage to kiss him and somehow he didn’t seemed too repulsed.” 

“I just wanted to thank him but my body moved before I could control myself. Later I’ll go to apologize properly.”

“Oh, yes, I know how impulsive you can be when you are on edge. I could apologize for you if you’re too embarrassed.”

“I have to do it. But then both of us will stay away from him and the squad. Mizuki will be their permanent referent, since he’s gotten close to Hange and we both made it awkward by acting this way.”

“As you wish.”

He kissed my knuckles while looking straight into my eyes. We both knew this gesture was what usually lead us to sex, but I repeated myself I shouldn’t give in, no matter how much I needed to vent at the moment. I couldn’t continue burying my feelings under Sebastian’s body. I pointed at the books laid on my desk to reinforce my next statement.

“…you can go, Seb.”

“Yes, My Lady.”

I just hoped what I said was enough to convince Sebastian. 

*************************************************

“What’s with your face?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look…weird.”

“Watch it, four-eyes.”

Hange had always been good at noticing things. It was one of her best skills, but sometime it was annoying more than useful. Today was one of those days. 

“Jeez, Levi. You’re not even trying to hide it. Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“C’mon!”

“Oi!”

“Okay, okay. I get it. Calm down.”

I actually wanted to speak to someone about my disorganized thoughts, but letting someone, even Hange in, would’ve meant to expose myself. I couldn’t even bear the thought of doing so. 

“Well, if you need me or us, we’ll be in the city. The guys asked for ice cream, again! Can you believe it? Mikasa cries every time we order, but still, she enjoys eating it. You should see Jean, looking at her and…don’t glare at me like that! You should come, too.”

“I can’t today.”

“Can’t? What is it that you must do?”

“Not your business.”

“May I guess?”

“No, you may not.”

“All right. Just so you know, you deserve to have fun. Whether it’s with your squad or anyone else…we’ve suffered all too much. We deserve fun sometimes.” 

I didn’t have time to reply because she was already leaving. She was right, but the sense of guilt was always there, trying to eat me alive. I tried to enjoy the present, but the shadow of death that was impressed inside my being, weighted as a millstone. I went inside my room in the villa. Except for Hange, I was the only one to have a single room all for myself, the other brats of the squad had shared rooms. For some strange reason, I looked over the door next to mine before entering the room. I had noticed before that door was always locked, only Mey-Rin entered every few days to clean inside it. One time I got closer to the cleaning cart she had left just outside the door of that room to look at what kind of cleaning supplies she used. There were tools I didn't even know they existed. As soon as Mey-Rin noticed me, she flinched and dismissed me quickly before closing and locking that door, almost as if she was preventing me to even look inside it. It stirred my curiosity, but since it wasn’t my business, I had just forgotten all about it. 

That was, until later that day. 

*************************************************

It had been just a few hours from that kiss, but my mind was still refusing to process it. Even so, I went to the villa, leaving my dog Ted free to run in the outside fenced garden, properly surveilled by Mizuki. I knew Hange and the rest of the squad had decided to go out, and Mey-Rin confirmed that the only one who was inside the villa was the Captain. I asked her to go open the room where I would see him, since I didn’t want to impose into his own private room and we needed some privacy to speak without the risk of being overheard. Sebastian was involved with a meeting from one of the activities my brother had left me as inheritance, so I knew there was no risk of him being around. Everything was ready for my announced meeting with the Captain, everything except me. I stood in front of his room for a while, looking at the wooden door, trying to muster up the nerve to knock. Every time I moved my knuckles towards the surface, a sting pierced my stomach. I repeated to myself that I only needed to tell him what I told to Sebastian and go away, but I was afraid. Afraid this would’ve been the last time I could’ve spoken to him, as if we’d ever been something more than allies. I took a deep breath and knocked. After a few seconds he opened the door and the bright light of that early afternoon enveloped all his figure, so much that he looked as an angelic appearance, even with his cold expression. A quote from a song resurfaced into my mind.

“And I will gladly break it, I will gladly break my heart for you.”

I wanted to pinch myself, as I was clearly ranting. Maybe I was starting to process that kiss and that was the reason why my brain was making me remembering those words.

“Miss?”

“S-sorry to disturb you.”

“Not at all. Come in.”

“No.”

He looked at me with an interrogative expression, while leaning on the door's frame, but then answered back. 

“Sorry. I’ve said I wouldn’t cause trouble with your fiancée and then asked you inside my room. I guess it’s not proper.”

I laughed. From what I’ve read about him, I would never picture him talking this way. I remembered I also needed to clear any misunderstanding about Albert. His expression was even more interrogative than before, so I explained. 

“It’s not a matter of what’s proper, it’s just that I wanted to use a safer room. I’ll explain later, I swear. So, could you please follow me, Captain?”

With an expressionless look on his face, he did as I asked.

*************************************************

Author's note: aaand yes, the kiss is finally here! Some of you may think it's only a peck but we've waited enough for this moment, so I think we can celebrate it. And if I were you, I would look forward to the next chapter too...As always, thank you for reading and see you soon!

P.s. the song is performed by Cigarettes After Sex

[littleapocalypsekitten]

I think this is a message much-needed. People need to get out of the idea of "having always been pure" or always having the same kind of ideas, politics, beliefs, tendencies, etc. when the truth is that we change throughout our lives and it can be so gradual you don't even realize it. And then sometimes you do realize it, and it's not just "I'm not a child anymore," but other things. And we can learn from all stages of our lives. This meme...sign...thing... it encapsulates some of my feelings of having once been an Evangelical Christian. I wasn't raised as such, it was something I latched onto when I was younger - and it's an aspect of my life / a period of my life that I am both regretful of and grateful for. I am regretful for certain beliefs and bigotries that I used to have when I was "trying to do faith right." I regret that I let myself be mislead, in some cases by people who were sincere and kind, but who were also mislead and in some cases by people who had something more sinister going on. The part where I am grateful in hindsight is how much deconstruction I've been through, how much I've actually thought about the meaning of life / what life means to me and have dealt with changes of belief given new information and experiences - which is not something everyone goes through. I am supremely grateful that having had a foot in that world for a little while gives me what I feel to be a great insight into modern American culture, particularly American politics and why they're so messed up right now. It's like I gained some kind of secret knowledge during a time when I was a person I have outgrown and that knowledge is valuable. Past-me might be disappointed in now-me if we met, just as now-me is disappointed in past-me, but the knowledge past-me gained helps now-me out.

[dubst3p]

Why did you choose to take away my agency and choice? Why did you exclude and isolate me on your own decision, share my information relating to my trauma in a private setting, to purposely mislead others into believing that I said I didn’t want to be there? Why did you call it a positive and progressive space and then proceed to devalue and minimize my words, and then why did you act like I was throwing a temper tantrum when I brought up concerns over basic consent? Why did you brush it off like it wasn’t a problem, when it is something deeply personal to me that I shared with you in private with confidence as my friend thinking I could trust you to not share that information with others, then purposely tip toe around and lie to others when they asked where I was, and using that private information as the reason for isolating me from my friends? You don’t value consent, you don’t value sex positivity, you don’t value anyone except for yourself. Your motivations were selfish, and to brand yourself as inclusive and progressive and to deny basic agency to a person was brutally damaging to me. I am still traumatized by the breach of boundaries and privacy, and then the minimization of my situation when it induced panic attacks, hallucinations, delusions, and then to go to others and say I warped the situation, to lie to my face and try to tell me that I imagined it, that the situation never happened, then to pick apart every single thing I said to try to discredit me. You blamed it all on nicotine withdrawals, because you don’t think that shaming addicts is as ableist as the mistreatment of someone clearly in a psychotic episode. I clarified so many times that you were hurting me over and over, and how you could fix it, how things could be resolved, so to make yourself out to be a caring friend and person when in reality you just use the progressive language and don’t actually care about the feelings of people you pretend to be so open and progressive about. The truth is, there’s a reason so many people separated from you, and it’s because you provide a false atmosphere of safety. You crushed my trust, destroyed the image I had of myself, and sent me into months of panic attacks, and fear of others to the point where I had to leave work, I stopped posting, stopped doing all the things I love, because you took away my agency. You violated my trust, my boundaries, my consent, and I truly hope that you learn some day that your selfish intentions are the cause of all of your falling-outs. You told others while I was in the worst psychotic episode of my life that I was warping others perception. I barely had the ability to speak to others coherently, while you rushed into everyone’s private messages to defame me. You took the project I worked so hard on and put so much effort into, the environment I created, and tore it to the ground, because I assumed you wanted the best for the project, when in actuality you just wanted to take control and police others. You targeted me, caused people to dog pile on me under the assumption that since we were so close it was ok, and then took advantage of my vulnerable mindset when I could hardly properly defend myself, and I still gave you the courtesy of not being insulting, and trying to communicate with you, and fix things. Because I cared about you, and our friendship, because I thought I could trust you to talk things out and make things better. You retraumatized me. I think about you every single day, and how much it damaged me to be hurt by someone I considered myself so close to. I hope some day you learn, and know that your mind games, the gaslighting, the minimizing, didn’t work. I did what I had to, and I don’t regret deleting all of it. Because if that’s what it took to get you out of my life, so be it. I just wish it didn’t hurt so badly, and I wish I didn’t give you the time or place. I want to take back my dignity and self respect now. I want to not feel afraid meeting new people over concerns of a repeat of you.

Goodbye, Azazel, you scapegoat fuck.

[theharddeck]

out of the blue, clear sky (chapter one) // Jake Seresin x Reader

Pairing: hangman x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: what's a bit of state rivalry between pilots? You and Hangman see each other in a new light after a late night at a dive bar, and this started as a one shot, then suddenly it was 2k words of country karaoke, and now I want to write a fluffy love story

Warnings: 18+, minors please DNI -- this is a 5 chapter deal and this one is pretty PG, but it'll ratchet up to E in a later chapter, and I don't want to mislead anyone. In the interim, there's swearing, but yeah mostly flagging this because something smutty this way comes

Length: 3.2k

A/N: This is self-indulgent to the max, and payoff is late in coming, but I hope y’all enjoy it lol. I regret to inform you that Sold (The Grundy Country Auction Incident) is required listening before reading; it’s just important to note that it’s a fun/funny song, not a sultry one. Jake’s song is “Carried Away” by George Strait, also a delight, but that one is sweet.

tagging the usuals: @peakyrogers@winterrebel04 @blue-aconite and the folks who convinced me to post: @bioodforbiood @et-homephone

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five

Should you have been out this late, the night before you had drills in this morning? No.

Should you be taking anything anyone said at this hour seriously? No. 

Should you be taking anything anyone said at this hour seriously? No. 

Were you all still going to be defensive when Bradley decided to be coastal elitist about something? Absolutely, yes.

“Man, we were having such a good night,” Fanboy muttered, as you, Bob, and Hangman were immediately up in arms.  

“You can just say you don’t like when women have feelings, Bradford,” you said. (A grossly reductive accusation, to be sure, but if Rooster was going to generalize, you weren’t going to take the high road.)

Coyote snorted, taking another pull of his beer as Phoenix came back to the table, kicking her feet up on Bob’s lap.

“God, that felt good,” she sighed, holding out a hand and waiting for someone to put a drink into it. “Who’s next?” 

“Presumably Hangman,” Bob said, handing her a glass, “to redeem the genre of country music.”

“Nah, I don’t sing,” Jake waved a hand airily, and you knew better than to look at him, but you did anyways. 

Normally, you were sober enough to ignore any sorts of feelings that fluttered, unprovoked, in your stomach when you looked at Jake Seresin. He was a pilot like you, you were in the same detachment, it wasn’t going to be something you acted on, you were far from his type anyways…you had a million little rationalizations as to why a crush was impractical, but it persisted nonetheless. 

Crushes were inconvenient like that.

This deep into the night, “normally” did not apply. 

So you looked at him, sternly reminding yourself to not do anything so dramatic as let your breath catch, or pulse leap. 

He didn’t seem nearly as deep in his cups as the rest of the group.

No, of course, he and Phoenix seemed to be the only ones whose eyes were still clear and faces weren’t flushed. In fact, he had the audacity to look as unfairly attractive as he did in the daytime in his uniform, even though you’d all been awake for close to twenty hours now. His blonde hair was mussed, and looked softer than normal, like he’d carded his fingers through it enough that any styling products had relinquished their hold, and it was a damn good look. 

You frowned down at your drink, the deep umber liquid not seeming any lower, though you’d been nursing it for half an hour. 

“It’s okay,” you said, to distract yourself, more than anything. “Texas doesn’t really count as Country, anyways.”

Mickey tittered, and you felt Jake’s eyes on you, but didn’t trust yourself to look up to meet them.

“Damn straight,” Jake huffed. “Texas was actually–”

“Its own country,” Reuben interrupted, longsuffering.

“For seven whole years,” Bradley continued, “an independent nation all of their own, called…”

“The Republic of Texas,” Javy lifted his glass. “And they were called Texians, actually, not Texans.”

The three of them clinked their glasses together in a cheers, and Jake held up his hands.

“Okay, okay,” he shrugged, nonplussed. “So, I’ve got a lot of state pride, sue me.”

“That’s okay,” Phoenix said, before winking almost imperceptibly at you. “Not like there’s any good country artists from Texas.”

Jake froze. “Okay, now, hang on–”

“Ah, you’re right,” you sighed, grateful for distraction of goading Hangman into singing. “Beyonce took all the musical talent, regardless of genre, and there’s no one left.”

Jake set his bottle down on the table. “That’s bold, coming from someone from Kentucky.”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of Kentucky-born legend Loretta Lynn,” you said calmly.

Jake sputtered. “Loretta–”

“Patty Loveless, too,” Bob said helpfully, and you didn’t know how he knew that, but you were grateful for the WSO’s encyclopedic memory. “And Chris Stapleton, if modern’s your thing.”

Jake gaped at the two of you, then held up a hand to count on his fingers. “Willie Nelson, Garth Brooks, George Strait–”

“Who?” you interrupted, innocently. Your dad had a George Strait cassette he’d played until the tape wore out, but Jake’s eyes widened almost comically. 

“Please,” he asked, in the most serious tone you’d heard from him all night, “please, tell me you’re joking.” 

Behind him, Reuben had a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh, and you managed to keep your expression wide-eyed and blank, shrugging lightly. 

Jake stared at you for a long moment, then he stood up, sharply.

“Cretins,” Jake declared, pointing at you, then around at the group. “All of you!”

And he huffed his way up to the stage. 

Phoenix leaned back in her chair to hold out her hand to you, palm up, which you high fived unashamedly as Jake aggressively flipped through the song book. 

He punched a code into the machine on the edge of the stage, then dragged a stool to the middle of the stage.

“Evening, everyone,” he said into a mic, and you rolled your eyes as every female spine in the bar straightened, looking towards the stage. It wasn’t lost on you that he’d turned his accent up, as well as donning an air of “aw, shucks,” humility as he settled onto the barstool.

A couple cat calls echoed around the bar, as contemplative guitar strings plucked over the sound system. 

“Notttt what I was expecting,” Coyote said under his breath, and Hangman cleared his throat before he started singing.

“I don’t take my whisky to extremes,” Jake sang, looking pointedly at the group of you, with the near empty bottle on the table, and Rooster flipped him off. “I don’t believe in chasing crazy dreams…”

As his voice ran around the bar, tables fell quiet, turning back to the stage. Hangman’s voice, normally more callous than decadent, seemed softer, and the simple lyrics of the song rang like a promise.

“My feet are planted firmly on the ground,” Jake crooned, and that really was the only word for it, an effortless spell none of you had been expecting, “but darlin’, when you come around…”

“Well shit,” Fanboy muttered to the group as Jake went all-in on the chorus, “how are we supposed to make fun of him when he’s actually good?”

Shit indeed.

Because he sounded like someone sweet who would promise forever to a girl on the way back from a Friday Night football game, someone who'd give you their jacket and get you home by 9pm. Some sound tech was conspiring against you, because they dimmed the lights in the bar, a soft spotlight falling onto Jake. And he should’ve looked worse like that, in the dramatic lighting, but it made his jaw seem sharper, his eyes brighter, and if you listened closely, you could hear the sound of every woman in this bar falling a little in love. 

They cheered when he finished the chorus, and Hangman was eating it up, wiping his palms on his jeans, and pushing to his feet.

“This has backfired,” Phoenix mumbled, when Jake hopped off the stage, weaving his way through the tables, starting on the next verse.

“We have created a monster,” you agreed.

“No ‘we’ about it,” Javy muttered. “This is all you guys.”

And you supposed it was. 

Jake was making his way over to your table, and you steeled yourself for his arrogance, but were still unprepared.

He smirked as he siddled over to Phoenix, and she rolled her eyes but when he held out a hand, she extended hers, and the rest of the audience squealed when he brushed a kiss over the edges of her knuckles.

You winced internally, why did he have to be so handsome?? He got away with stuff like this, and you couldn’t even be mad at him–

He turned to you.

It had to be the whisky, that’s why you felt the weight of his eyes so heavily. The green of them glittered in the spotlight, and a part of you was loyally muttering “asshole” but another part of you felt like giggling with the rest of the bar.

And then he walked towards you. 

“I get carried away by the look, by the light in your eyes,” he sang, holding eye contact in a way that had to be indecent. You needed to look away so you could remember how to breathe, but you couldn’t back down, so you tilted your head and raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

Which, of course, he took as a challenge.

“Before I even realize the ride I’m on, baby, I’m long gone,” Jake sang, stepping closer. 

He reached for your hand, and if Phoenix could do it, you could too–but he didn’t kiss your hand. No, he lifted it, prompting you to stand and spinning you, like prom. The spotlight had followed him, and you felt it brightening the air around you as he pulled you into it. 

“I get carried away, nothing matters, but being with you,” he sang, and instead of letting you wilt back into your seat and out of the light, he dropped your hand around the back of his neck, between the ends of his hair and the top of his shirt, eyes smirking with the challenge, as he continued. “Like a feather flying high up in the sky, on a windy day, I get carried away.”

There was more of the song, you knew that.

But in another, very real sense, you were closer to Hangman than you ever remembered being, close enough to notice his green eyes had flecks of gold in them, and that he had the smallest indentations in the skin along the edges of his eyes, from where his face held the memory of past smiles. And now you knew what his hair felt like between your fingers, and that it wasn’t cologne, he just smelled good.

“I get carried away,” Jake repeated, stepping just a step closer to you, and maybe it made you a coward, but you took a step back. He smirked, victorious, and turned, letting your hand fall back to your side as the spotlight followed him back up to the stage.

Mickey opened his mouth and you glared at him. “Not a word, Fanboy.”

He closed his mouth with a snap, but the rest of the group looked entirely too amused for your comfort. 

“Thank you, ladies and gents,” Jake was saying on the stage, dropping into a deep bow and putting the microphone back. “And, uh, Kentucky?”

You looked up at the stage, annoyed to find Jake’s eyes already on you, even through the glare of the spotlight. 

“Would love,” he grinned, all teeth, “to see you top that.”

You heard Rooster chuckle, and that, more than anything, had you pushing out of your chair up to the stage. 

Jake offered you a hand as you got closer, to help you up the steps and you glowered at him as you took it.

“Thanks, darlin’,” you muttered.

“Anytime, sugar,” he shot back, and you hated that his voice sounded way more unaffected than yours. 

You were flipping through the songbook before you realized how impossible this was about to be. 

Natasha had already trotted out the ‘fuck all men’ Carrie Underwood play, and Jake had taken the soft and sweet option; you had to do something different. Something in the ‘Chicken Fried’ vein would be funny, but it would also prove Bradley's point; Gretchen Wilson would do the trick, but she wasn’t from Kentucky… 

Your eyes fell on a John Michael Montgomery song and you smiled to yourself. 

Perfect.

“Hiya, folks,” you said cheerily, going for cutesy rather than borrowing Jake’s bashful routine. A couple girls were glaring at you, having seen Jake serenade you and misinterpreting that familiarity, but you ignored them. 

“You’ve got this, babe!” Phoenix called, and you heard Payback and Fanboy clapping loudly. 

You gave them a mock curtsy, and waited for the song to pick up. 

And boy howdy, did it. 

A banjo, loud and proud, curled through the bar and Bob’s eyes lit up, even as Jake’s jaw dropped.

If you could land this, it would be epic. 

You heard recognition ripple through the room and someone in the front row started clapping along to the beat. You smiled at them gratefully as the fast tempo whirled around you.

“Well, I went down to the Grundy county auction,” you sang, at an auctioneer’s pace, hopping off the stage and wandering through the crowd like Jake had, “where I saw something I just had to have.”

You’d upped your accent too, and it wasn’t smooth the way Jake’s was, but you knew it didn’t sound half bad in the tenor key. 

“My mind told me I should proceed with caution,” you sang, getting closer to your table, and holding out a hand to Natasha, like Jake had, “but my heart said go ahead and place a bid on that.”

She stood, highly amused, and you twirled her into you so her back was pressed against the front of your body. Her hand slid up your legs as she put on a show, loyal like you knew she would be, and you could focus on the rapid fire lyrics as the bar cheered for Nat’s dancing skills. 

"And I said, “Hey pretty lady, won't you give me a sign? I'd give anything to make you mine o' mine; I'll do your biddin' and be at your beck and call."

Natasha was laughing, you could feel her upper body shaking but she rolled her hips and you went with her and was Coyote miming throwing money at the two of you, so you leaned into it. 

You finished the chorus in a rush, people whooped, the sultry mood Jake had said absolutely decimated by the ridiculous patter.

You spun Phoenix back out and she sank gracefully back into a seat as you walked around the group of your friends, their boots stomping supportively. As you sang the next verse, you avoided looking at Jake, knowing you needed to keep your momentum and circling back to kneel in front of Bob dramatically. 

The sweet WSO blushed at the attention, and the bar whooped when you crooked a finger under his chin to tilt his face up to you, before pointing out his ‘ruby red lips, blonde hair, blue eyes’ that matched the line in chorus. 

“If you know it, sing along,” you yelled into the mic before pointing it to the ceiling as you weaved your way back to the stage, relieved beyond belief when the rest of the inebriated crowd joined you in singing the last chorus.

It was a mercy, because you needed to breathe. 

You stepped back up onto the stage, having caught your breath, and ending the song on a yodel that had everyone laughing. Were they in love with you—no. But they seemed entertained, and you’d take that; you bowed deeply as the bar cheered, blowing a smug kiss at Hangman when you came back up.  

Which was a mistake.

Because the look on his face was something you hadn’t expected to see, an expression that wavered between respect and something you didn’t recognize, and you weren’t prepared to find out. A moment later, it was gone, chased away by a dimpled smile and the tipping of an imaginary hat as Jake broke his gaze away from you. 

What the hell was that? 

You fiddled with the mic, stepping down off the stage and nodding to a couple folks who lifted their drinks as you made your way back to the group. They cheered for you good naturedly, and gave another curtsy as you found your seat. 

“Who knew she had pipes?” Payback teased, uncapping a fresh beer and passing it to you. 

“Anything for the virtue of the Bluegrass state,” you demured, taking the beer gratefully. 

Someone from another group was up on the stage, you heard a phone ring distantly, and the normal din of the bar creeped back in as the adrenaline seeped out of your system. 

You were sure you were all going to regret this, in the morning. 

Well, most of you.

Natasha still looked fine and Jake…

Jake wasn’t at the table. 

You frowned slightly, trying to keep your expression neutral as you leaned forward in your seat, looking around the room to find the Texan. He wasn’t in your row, he wasn’t at the bar getting an order…

Your eyes found him by the bar’s entrance, holding his phone to his head with one hand, the other blocking his ear. He was pacing, and when he turned back towards the group of you, his forehead was wrinkled in an uncharacteristic frown. 

His eyes met yours.

For the second time tonight, you read something in his face that you knew you hadn’t been meant to see.

Jake’s jaw tightened and he turned away, pacing again. When he got closer to the door, he reached for it, but a moment later, his hand was back by his ear, blocking out sound as he listened intently. You saw him start for the door again, but each time needed to pull back to listen more closely to whoever was on the other end of the line.

You didn’t plan to head towards him, but your feet had you halfway across the bar before you realized you weren’t in your row. As you got closer, you could feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, even if you couldn’t hear what he was saying. 

When you opened the door for him, Jake’s gaze felt searching. 

You held the heavy door, pressing yourself against the wall of the bar so Jake could go by. As he edged by you, his eyes flitted back to yours briefly. 

“Thank you,” he mouthed, and he waited for your chin to dip in a nod of acknowledgement before he was turning, jogging towards his truck. You watched him struggle with his keys in the dim parking lot light, and then pinch the bridge of his nose as he realized he couldn’t drive, not like this. He turned towards the intersection, waving as a cab came into view. 

“What was that about?”

You jumped at the question, surprised to find Bob standing next to you.

“I don’t know,” you said, uncertainly. A cab pulled up to the curb and Jake folded his long body into it, the phone still pressed to his ear.

You realized Bob was holding the door for you, having quietly leaned up against it to take some of the weight so you didn’t have to.  

“We should probably head back, right?” you asked, and Bob nodded, slowly.

“Early morning, all that,” he agreed.

You drew in a quick breath, before smiling automatically, following Bob back inside. As you gathered your things, closed at your portion of the tab, and fielded compliments from strangers, you weren’t certain if it was the night air or the expression on Hangman’s face as he’d left so quickly that had you feeling suddenly sober.

Chapter Two