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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 25

A/N: So this chapter begins the first mention of COVID-19 for the story. I know it’s not much but I did want to put a little disclaimer because I know it was a traumatic event for many people, especially those who were affected by it personally. We will obviously get deeper into it as the story progresses in the next chapters (judging by the date...it’s time!)

Also, no @’ing me about what happens here with a certain someone.

March 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was paying attention to the news at the airport.

“While the first case of what epidemiologists are referring to as COVID-19 was recorded in Toronto on January 25th, the novel coronavirus is still baffling some scientists in terms of its symptoms. They range from severe in some, to completely asymptomatic in others. While there are currently less than twenty cases in Toronto thus far, Ontario health officials have recorded three news cases today. One is a man in his 60s who returned on a flight from Egypt, while the other two are women in their 60s and 70s returning on a flight from Egypt. Public health officials are encouraging individuals to wash their hands frequently and exercise caution whenever and wherever possible.”

“Want some hand sanitizer?” John asked from beside her. He was laid out in the chair beside her while her knees were against her chest.

She nodded, leaving her bag of pretzels in her lap before she extended her hand and he squirted some Purell onto her hand. John always had everything readily available – hand sanitizer, band aids, healthy granola bars, breath mints – she was sure he probably had a spare hair elastic in his backpack too, and a full surgery kit for all she knew. She rubbed the sanitizer in between her hands. “What do you think about all this?” she asked, motioning towards the TV monitor.

John shrugged. “I’m a bit nervous about it,” he admitted. “I know that Aryne is taking some extra precautions with Jace. A lot of her friends from Queen’s ended up going to med school so she’s friends with a lot of doctors and listening to their advice.”

“I guess we should all be.”

“Wouldn’t hurt, right?” John asked rhetorically. “Better safe than sorry. What do you think about it?”

Aberdeen pursed her lips slightly. “I have no clue. Science goes way above my head. But if doctors and epidemiologists are going to tell me to do something – or not do something – so I don’t get sick, I’m going to do it – or not do it – whatever.”

“Atta girl,” John smiled. “Just listen to the experts.”

“That’s why I listen to you about hockey,” she winked.

He laughed out loud. “You butter me up too much. What are you looking for? A granola bar? You already have pretzels.”

“Not everything with me has to do with food.”

“Really?”

She pinched him.

***

March 5th, 2020

It was 24 Celsius in Los Angeles, and Aberdeen was loving it. Though the Leafs had suffered a bit of an embarrassing loss to San Jose the night before, today the team had a day off before they had back to back games against the Kings and Ducks. Some of them were going shopping on Rodeo Drive (Auston, Frederik), and some were visiting old friends since being traded (Kyle, Jack), but most were doing exactly what Aberdeen wanted to do: going to the beach.

They decided on Malibu Beach. It was only a thirty minute drive from the hotel, so Aberdeen put on her bathing suit and packed herself in a car with John, Jason, and Justin Holl. William, Rasmus, Kappy, and Pierre followed in another, with Tyson and Mitch tagging along in the last car too. It may not have been super-hot to Californians, but for sun-starved Canadians, it would do. The sun was out, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and she was going to tan the entire afternoon. She would take advantage of it as much as possible.

As she helped set up the blankets and beach towels, she watched as Mitch and Tyson already stripped down to their bathing suits and ran into the ocean together. Pierre was setting up some Bluetooth speakers and John was passing around the sunscreen. The visual of these men rubbing sunscreen across their abs made Aberdeen’s heart flutter – but then the image of them having to slather sunscreen all over each other’s backs brought her back down to earth. She chuckled to herself and shook her head.

“Aberdeen, sunscreen!” John tossed the bottle towards her. She caught it and stripped down to her tankini before squirting some onto her legs and arms, making sure to cover herself thoroughly. She could tell William was watching but trying not to make it seem like he was. Jason took care of her back.

The guys did their own thing while Aberdeen read her book and tanned. She could hear them screaming every now and then and watched as they gave each other piggyback rides and splashed water at each other like they were a peewee hockey team on a weekend tournament. Every now and again someone would come back to the blankets and beach towels to relax, but soon enough, they were back in the ocean, being loud and obnoxious but happy, happy boys.

“Whatcha reading?” Tyson asked as he walked towards her, wet from the salt water and sand sticking to his legs. She flashed the book at him – Milkman by Anna Burns – and he squinted his eyes to see it properly in the sunlight. “Is it about milk?” he asked.

She shorted. She remembered back to when she was reading Women Talking by Miriam Toews and William asked “Do women talk in it?” like a smartass. “It’s about a woman in what’s very obviously Belfast coming of age during the Troubles. I thought it might give me some more insight into what my mom grew up in.”

“Is it any good? Was it as good as the one you were reading last week on the plane? Normal Girls or whatever it was?”

Aberdeen giggled. “Normal People, you mean? No, it’s not as good as that. Fuck, I loved that book.”

“I know. You wouldn’t shut up about it!” he joked, wiping his body off. From behind him, Aberdeen could see John making his way towards them. William was still off in the ocean, throwing a football between him, Pierre, and Mitch. “Think you can teach Mitch how to read?”

Aberdeen smiled. “I can certainly try.”

As if on cue, Mitch’s booming voice was heard. “Hey T-Bear! Get over here!” he yelled, putting everything he had into his throw of the football so it reached Tyson, who caught it expertly.

“See ya later, Aberdeen,” he said before running off, throwing the football towards Pierre who had to dive into the water to catch it.

Instead of focusing on the water cascading down Pierre’s abs or the sunlight hitting William’s broad shoulders perfectly, making him look like some Norse god, she focused her attention on John. “You feeling good?” she asked.

“The best,” he nodded, wiping himself off before lying the towel down again and sitting on it, bringing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them. “You’ve already gotten some colour,” he commented.

“Thank God,” she said, looking down at her arms. “The winter has made me so pale. It’s a bummer I didn’t get my dad’s skin tone. My sister and brother got lucky with that.”

“You took after the Scottish side?” he asked. Aberdeen nodded. “I get it,” he said. “Aryne can’t tan either. She burns too easily.”

“Wonder if the Swedes are going to look like tomatoes in a couple of hours,” she said, nodding her head towards them. “Imagine they’re on TV and beet red? I might get fired for not slathering sunscreen on you guys or not telling you to put on some hats.”

John laughed out loud, choosing to lean back on his elbows. “I don’t know about that, Aberdeen. Something tells me you’ll be around for a long time if certain people have anything to say about it – well, until you want to leave, that is.”

Aberdeen’s body stiffened slightly at his words. “Wh…what do you mean?” she asked.

“Ah, nothing serious, Aberdeen. Don’t worry,” he said, shaking his head. With the silence between them, Aberdeen thought he may have dropped it, but he didn’t. He was just preparing to articulate what he wanted to say. “It’s not just Brendan liking you, you know. We know William has, like, the biggest crush on you, okay? We’re all adults here,” he said to her shock. “It’s cute, but we all know it’s harmless.”

“It is harmless,” she stressed.

“I know, Aberdeen. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t for a second forget that you’re all Toronto Maple Leafs,” she said. “Every job in this organization is a dream job for someone and you guys forget that some people spend their entire lives, their entire careers, building up their resumes waiting to get hired by this organization. Nobody would ever, ever, under any circumstances, want to do anything to fuck it up, because once you’re done here, there’s nowhere else to go.”

“I knooooow, I know. I’m just ribbing you like we rib him about it,” he smiled. He was so jovial about it all that Aberdeen calmed down a bit. He wasn’t trying to get to the bottom of something like he was when he and Morgan asked her about Ethan – he was just being good-humoured. A human, not a captain of a hockey team. Maybe her overreaction was a bit much but she needed to remain guarded and vigilant about it if ever, and whenever the guys brought it up. “He looks at you googly-eyed all the time even though he knows nothing’s ever gonna happen. I’m pretty sure he’d cry whenever you leave.”

Aberdeen snorted. Cry from joy, probably, because that would mean they could actually touch each other in public. “He told you that? That nothing is ever gonna happen?”

John nodded his head. “Well, nothing’s ever gonna happen as long as you work here,” he clarified. “But don’t tell him I told you. He kind of figures and we all know it’s a lost cause as long as you’re working here.”

Aberdeen nodded, deciding not to say anything as she looked out into the distance. The boys were still throwing the football, and Justin was attempting a yoga pose on the beach. She picked up her book and buried her head in it.

***

Adrian Kempe, a Swedish friend of William’s, recommended a taco restaurant in Malibu for the group to have dinner. It wasn’t a far drive from where they were on the beach, so at around six in the evening, they shook the sand off the towels and packed them back in the cars and headed to Café Habana. Aberdeen was in the car with John, Jason, and Justin again.

When they arrived at the restaurant, she looked out the backseat window to see Kappy making a beeline towards someone. The girl, Aberdeen soon noticed, was Saylor. She figured Saylor was here for another modelling gig, though Aberdeen did find it somewhat amusing that Saylor always popped up in cities or areas with…well, shall we say distractions. She was in New York. Las Vegas. Aberdeen knew she’d been to Florida. Now she was in LA. Saylor didn’t go Columbus or Colorado.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” Saylor squealed as she saw Willy, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him. “Surrrrrpriiiiise!”

“Surprise,” he smirked, but Aberdeen could tell he wasn’t as excited as she was. “Here for some modelling?”

“Who wouldn’t want to come down to LA to model? I just came from a shoot,” she said, now focusing her attention on Aberdeen. “Hey girl!” she squealed again.

“Hi Saylor,” she smiled.

“I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl here tonight,” she smirked. “The boys can get so boring sometimes.”

“Aberdeen’s used to it by now,” Jason piped in. “She’s only been travelling with us since September.”

The group moved towards the restaurant and were seated in the back patio at a long table. Aberdeen was squished in between Jason and John, and directly across from her sat Willy, Pierre to his right and Saylor to his left. Saylor and Kasperi didn’t even have to sit down to ask the waiter and waitress attending to them if they had oysters. They didn’t. With one quick look at the menu, and a disproportionately long discussion requiring everybody’s calculators to be out to determine how many orders of tacos were required for everybody to have three tacos each (much to Aberdeen’s entertainment), the group ordered four orders of every taco variation (and there were five of them) on the menu, along with some sides of baby broccoli, saut��ed zucchini, and French fries. As a dining group of 11, it should have been more than enough food. She felt bad for the chefs, but knew the food would be amazing. She saw it being brought to a table near them and it looked delectable.

While Aberdeen maintained professionalism at all times when she was in front of the guys, when the tacos came, that professionalism waned. She made sure to grab the four tacos she was guaranteed and wanted and piled them onto her plate. They looked delicious. Even as she bit into her first one, she moaned audibly at the taste, making the guys around her laugh. Willy eyed her as she did so, taking a bite out of his own.

“So what have you been up to?” Saylor asked Aberdeen as she crunched on a French fry. “Kappy told me it was your birthday?”

“It was! I turned 22.”

“Ohmigod, I remember my 22nd birthday. We went to the rooftop bar at the Bowery Hotel in New York City,” Saylor said. Aberdeen knew it would be something ultra-luxurious because that was the only way Saylor seemed to roll. “What did you end up doing?”

“Oh, a bunch of friends and I just got a booth and bottle service at a club. Nothing as fancy as that,” Aberdeen answered.

“How many were you?”

“I’d say about twenty.”

Saylor’s eyes bulged a bit. “When you get older, your friend group gets soooo small,” she said, her tone making it seem like she was the all-knowledgeable big sister bestowing wise knowledge upon Aberdeen. Saylor was only a year older than her. If it was Jen, Aryne, or Bee giving this advice, fine – but not Saylor. “My friend group is so small now. All the drama that goes on between people is just so tiring, you know? Less people, less drama.”

Aberdeen didn’t want to be rude, so she nodded her head. “I can get that. These are all people I’ve known since high school and throughout university, though. We’ve already been friends for a long time.”

“And you’re still friends with them?” Saylor asked.

Aberdeen nodded her head. Before she could say anything else, John piped up. “I think that’s a testament to your character more so than anything, Aberdeen.”

“But it could also speak to, like, the way people are,” Saylor went on. Aberdeen indulged her, looking at her so she would continue. “Like, when I was in high school – my family is from Lake Forest, and I went to Lake Forest Academy – I found out this one friend was talking behind my back and I totally ditched her. But then we ended up at the same college, and it was really weird for a while, but then we ended up becoming friends!”

Aberdeen didn’t know what point she was trying to make. Neither did anybody else listening, judging by the looks on their faces. “That’s good you were able to turn the relationship around,” she commented, not knowing what else to say.

Saylor looked very proud of herself. “Besides that, what else have you been up to? Are you still just, like, Brendan’s assistant?”

Aberdeen bit her tongue to smile curtly. “Just.”

“And a great one at that,” Jason said before stuffing his mouth with a taco.

“I guess that’s enough for you,” Saylor commented.

Aberdeen almost dropped her taco. So did Jason. Willy was looking in between them. She didn’t know how to respond at this point and not sound rude when Saylor’s rudeness was so blatantly obvious. Aberdeen still wasn’t sure whether or not Saylor actually had the capacity to be underhanded. She was starting to err on the side of Saylor knowing exactly what she was saying to people but saying it in such a way and with such a tone that everyone thought she was just dumb and didn’t know better. Aberdeen began to believe Saylor did know better, and her act wasn’t fooling Aberdeen anymore. It made her reconsider what Saylor said to her in New York about her nose. “It’s actually not enough for me, but it’s what’s paying the bills right now and I’m not going to discuss career aspirations at the dinner table in front of people who are technically my colleagues and who don’t want to see me leave anytime soon.”

“But you can’t be in a job you hate just because it pays the bills!” she said like some dreamer. “You need to go out there and be creative! Cultivate! Be artistic! Design! Sometimes the best opportunities come when you just drop everything, quit your job, and start hustling as you do what you love!”

Aberdeen felt her blood begin to boil. She tried to remain calm. “One – I never said I hated my job. I love this job and I love the people I work with,” she clarified. “Two �� that’s a bit easy to say for someone with family money who grew up in Lake Forest and went to a private school. I have rent to pay. Bills – groceries, my cell phone, internet, stuff for my cat – I can’t just up and quit my job with a steady income to hustle and be creative when I have a shit ton of responsibilities.”

“I’m sure your parents would help you if it’s your dream and it’s something you really wanted to do.”

“No, they wouldn’t,” Aberdeen deadpanned. “My parents have their own shit to deal with. My mom would kick my ass if I was that stupid. I mean, my parents are immigrants, so that goes without saying. They don’t owe me a dollar, and I would never ask them for it. I would never do that to them.”

“What about your grandparents?”

Aberdeen could feel John, Jason, Pierre, and Willy deflate at the question. It was almost comical. “I think you’re missing the point, Saylor,” Jason said nicely. “Aberdeen is already hustling to get to an end-goal of writing. This job is actually helping her get to that goal.”

“Writing?” Saylor questioned. “I thought for sure you wanted to, like, work in sports or broadcasting or something. Writing, then? That makes sense, I guess. Better for you to stick behind the cameras.”

Aberdeen wondered if everybody else could hear what Saylor was saying too. She felt like she was in the twilight zone or something. It confirmed to her that Saylor knew exactly what she was saying. “Yeah, I guess. Kind of how it’s better for you to be in front of the cameras because you thrive on attention.”

“Yes! Modelling is all about getting attention and hype around your brand,” she smiled sincerely, so happy that the topic was back on her and her modelling. She didn’t get the subtle dig at her…extracurricular activities that took up more of people’s attention than any work or collaborations or modelling she’d done. “I’m working so hard to build mine now, which is why I’m in LA having meetings and doing more collabs.”

“Is modelling enough for you?” Jason asked.

Aberdeen almost spit out her water, but Willy beat her to it. She saw Saylor’s face light up even more. “Oh my God, yes. I looove modelling. I’m soooo into the creative aspect of it and building my brand.”

“That’s great, Saylor,” Aberdeen smiled. “I’m really glad that it’s working out for you considering how much you love it.”

“Thanks, girl,” she winked. “It’s hard because the industry is so saturated these days. I mean we were talking about this in New York. Every girl with an iPhone, some makeup, and good angles thinks she’s a model. It really takes someone creative like me to stand out. Someone with a unique look and a unique brand,” she went on. “Like your nose, you know? It’s big. Huge. We talked about that. You could get a nose job, or you could work with it. Most would get a nose job.”

Jason was ready for Aberdeen to snap. So was John. So was Pierre. But William knew better. When he saw Aberdeen smile, close-mouthed, just a hint of a coy grin playing on her face, he knew better. “I have a Virginia Woolf nose,” Aberdeen said. “It reminds me of how much I want to become a writer and not a model.”

***

“I feel like I just watched a WWE match on pay-per-view,” Aberdeen overheard Justin say to Jason in a low voice as they trailed behind her in the parking lot (he sat beside Jason during the meal and had heard everything, but even if he hadn’t sat beside him, Aberdeen had a feeling he still would have heard). After the tacos were eaten, everybody decided to call it a night and go back to the hotel – well, mostly everyone. Saylor wanted to go out for drinks somewhere else in Malibu. Everybody else politely declined.

“Yeah, except it was pretty one-sided,” Jason said in an equally low voice. “It’s like Aberdeen was Stone Cold Steve Austin and Saylor was the poor jobber her stunnered every Monday night.”

“You picked up on the nose comment too, right? I mean she was basically telling Aberdeen to get a nose job?” Justin asked.

“Yup,” Jason popped the P sound.

“I thought I was going crazy when I heard it.”

“Yeah, me too. But from what I’ve heard from Jen I didn’t expect more from her.”

“It’s good that Aberdeen is mature. I think if it were me at 22, I would have lunged across the table,” Justin commented.

***

“Who’s Virginia Woolf?”

Aberdeen was lying naked in her hotel bed, tits out, with William lying by her side after he’d fucked her, and that was the question he asked. Aberdeen smiled. She loved William and she knew him – she really did, at least she liked to think – but sometimes she didn’t understand how his brain worked. She knew she liked to call him “Head Empty”, but sometimes she wasn’t so sure. He clearly had thoughts. He just brought them up at weird times. “She was a writer in the early 1900s,” she answered, laughing slightly.

“And you want to be like her?”

She shook her head. “I’d like my writing to be like her writing.”

“Why don’t you want to be like her?”

“She filled her pockets with rocks and committed suicide by drowning herself in the river behind her home,” she said, looking over at him. His face was blank, processing the information, and she smiled wider. “Maybe if my writing was like hers, I’d actually get published in Toronto Life or something.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Her smile faded. She hadn’t told him yet. She’d wanted to keep it to herself for as long as possible because she didn’t want to burden him with the news. “I did try. I sent in one of my personal essays and they rejected it. They sent me the email on my birthday.”

William remained silent. He saw the look on Aberdeen’s face and knew that she felt embarrassed and disappointed – in herself, in her writing. He wrapped an arm around her and propped himself up on his elbow so he could look down at her. “Minskatt…”

“Don’t, Willy. You’re going to make me cry.”

“No,” he shook his head, not accepting what she was saying. “After the Carolina game you told me I needed to talk more and that you’d listen. Well, you need to talk now and I’ll listen,” he said. “Talk to me, minskatt. I’m listening.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and it wasn’t because of her writing getting rejected anymore. It was because of the man hovering over her. His head may by empty, but Aberdeen was sure his heart was full of gold. She didn’t know how she got so lucky. She didn’t know how he was hers. “I just don’t know how much more rejection I can take,” she whispered. “I try and I try and I write and I write and I read so I can write better and nothing is working. Nothing,” her voice was shaky. “I just want an editor to read my writing and say ‘This is what I’ve been looking for all along.’ But that hasn’t happened yet. And I’m scared it’s never going to happen.”

“It’ll happen one day, minskatt. I promise you,” William encouraged as he tightened his grip around her with his one arm. “You’re so talented. Your dreams are going to come true and you’re going to look back and wonder why you ever doubted yourself.”

“Do you doubt me?” she asked suddenly.

“No,” William said without hesitation. “Not for a second.”

Aberdeen stayed silent, bringing a hand up to wipe the few tears that had fallen down the side of her face. She rested it on William’s forearm draped across her body. “When I get like this, all my insecurities come out. About my future, about everything. Maybe I was never destined to be a writer. Maybe I was destined to be a personal assistant or a bank teller. Maybe I was destined just to be normal girl with a big nose and nothing special.”

“How can you say you’re nothing special when you’re my treasure?” he asked, burying his face in the crook of her neck and placing a light kiss there. She couldn’t help but smile, and he smiled at the fact he made her smile. “That has to count for something, right minskatt?” he stressed the word.

She nodded. “It counts for everything.” She looked directly into his baby blues, barely blinking. “The second I leave here I’m going to plant the biggest kiss on your lips, Willy. You have absolutely no idea.”

That caused William to laugh out loud before he bent down and gave her a quick kiss. “Not if I beat you to it,” he said.

“You won’t. Trust me. God, I can hardly wait,” she said. “I still don’t know why you keep waiting for me.”

“Are you listening?” he asked.

“Mhm.”

“I wait for you because I love you. Because I love everything about you.”

“Even my big nose?”

“My favourite part of you,” he kissed the tip of it. She could have cried again. “It’s what makes you you. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

When she craned her neck to kiss him, she made sure to wrap her arms around his body and pull him close, wanting to feel his body on top of hers. He got the hint, and stuck his tongue down her throat, and they kissed until he was hard again. Though he hadn’t expected a second round, he was more than willing to partake. He even made sure to bring extra condoms. He always did now – since Valentine’s Day. He had them everywhere: in his wallet, in his suitcase, in his shoe. “I love you minskatt,” he mumbled against her lips.

She didn’t respond at first. But when she did, it was with something he wasn’t expecting. “Tell me how you want me.”

He froze for a brief second, the previous conversation they were just having still fresh in his mind. “What?”

“Do you want me from behind? On top?” she asked in a breathy voice.

He groaned. “On top.”

They switched positions so he was lying on his back. Aberdeen climbed on top of him. “Willy?” she asked. “Can we…can we try something different?”

He nodded quickly. “What is it, Aberdeen?”

“Can we…” she began, almost a bit embarrassed. “Can I try reverse cowgirl?”

William couldn’t help but smile. “Of course,” he said, gripping at her hips.

“D’you have another condom?”

“My back pocket.”

She dismounted him, leaning over the bed to grab his pants on the floor and retrieve the packet. When she straddled him again, she did it so her back was to his face. He could feel her pump him a few times before she rolled on the condom, and he sighed at the feeling. She looked over her shoulder at him. “I love you, Willy.”

“I love you too,” he said, his hands back on her hips. He helped her lower herself onto him, the both of the moaning at the feeling. He loved watching himself disappear inside of her. He noticed she wasn’t moving yet. “You okay?” he asked.

Aberdeen nodded her head. “It feels so good,” she said. “I’ve never…you know…”

“It’s okay,” he said, understanding what she wasn’t saying. He couldn’t believe that her previous sexual partners were so selfish that they never let her explore what she liked or what she could possibly like or positions she could do. He shuddered at the thought of her potentially asking and being turned down. It made him angry just thinking about it. He didn’t want her to be that way with him. He wanted her to be completely open. “Do what you feel comfortable with, minskatt.”

She began rolling her hips back and forth. William groaned in response, and he could feel Aberdeen’s hands grip his thighs and her nails dig in slightly. As she rocked herself on his cock, she began to moan, gasping out anytime William would buck his hips slightly. He had to admit he liked the view, but what he liked even more was that she was enjoying herself on top of him, doing what she wanted.

“Willy?” she asked suddenly. She looked over her shoulder at him again. She looked so innocent and he knew that she meant to do it, and he almost exploded right then and there as she bat her eyelashes at him. “Can you…can you come up here?”

He did as he was told, pushing himself up and wrapping his arms around her body. He kissed her back and dragged his lips along her skin to her shoulder and neck. “What is it, minskatt?” he asked.

“What if I wanted to try more?”

If it was possible, William felt even hotter. The sound of her voice saying those words was…indescribable. “What do you mean?”

“You just make me feel so good. I’ve never had anybody make me feel this way. I feel so comfortable with you,” she said. “You…I feel safe to try things with you. Things I couldn’t try with other guys.”

He knew what she was getting at. He placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. “What do you want to try?” he asked. She remained silent, wondering if she should have even said anything. “Don’t be ashamed, minskatt. What do you want me to do?”

She hesitated. “D’you…can you pinch my nipples?”

He smiled because it was such a simple request. He brought his hands up and cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between his thumb and index fingers. He felt her sharp intake of breath and her head leaned back into his shoulder. He could tell by her reaction that she wanted more. “What else?” he asked, biting down on her skin near her shoulder. “What are you not telling me?”

“That,” she stressed. He didn’t know what she meant. “The bite. You—You can fuck me, Willy. I want you to fuck me. You can be rougher with me. I think I’ll like it.”

When William heard those words and how she emphasized them, he wanted to make sure. Needed to make sure. The first time they had sex it was a good old-fashioned hookup. The second time they had sex they’d made love. In subsequent times since, it was mostly making love, if only because they had waited so long to finally be together and that was what they wanted to “release” – love. But now, with those words being said, he knew Aberdeen was ready to take the next step. She was willing to go further. She trusted him to go further with her, and only wanted to do it with him. “Yeah?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I trust you. Fuck me, Willy.”

He pinched her nipples again, harder this time, and she gasped. He started to move his hips too, moving inside of her, and she began to moan again. Without warning, he fell back down on the bed, bringing her with him so her back was flush against his chest, though her knees were still bent and he was still in her. This was definitely a new position for her, judging by her reaction – a quick “oh fuck” escaping her lips. He heard her breathing get heavier as she felt one of his hands snake down from her breasts and on to her clit. “Willy…” she moaned out.

He started pounding into her, using his athletic physique to be able to so with such force in a new angle she’d never felt before. Her moans fuelled him, and the moans changed to slight whimpers when he started rubbing at her clit. “Fuck, Willy…” she managed to get out.

But he wasn’t done. At least he didn’t want to be done. His other hand, still pinching her nipple, moved up to her neck. “Willy,” she mewled, bringing her own hand up and placing it over his.

“Is that okay?” he whispered into her ear. He wasn’t applying any pressure – it was just sort of there – but that was apparently enough for her. He wouldn’t have felt comfortable going further, anyway, at least without her verbalizing something.

“Yes Willy, fuck,” she arched her back. “Fuck me. Fuck me harder.”

He increased his pace. Her cries let him know that even with those simple actions, she was feeling pleasure. She was liking it. She was getting what she wanted from him. That was the only thing he wanted. “I want you to cum all over my cock, Aberdeen,” he growled into her ear. She didn’t answer, but when she arched her back again, he felt her walls tighten around his cock and he knew she was done. He let himself find his release too, groaning in pleasure as her body writhed on top of his. He didn’t stop rubbing her clit until her hand went over his to stop him. Her body went still as he slipped out of her and she fell to his side, trying to regain her breath.

After a couple of minutes, she curled around to face him. “I know that was probably really tame but it was new for me.”

William shook his head. He didn’t want her to feel nervous about anything. “Baby steps,” he kissed her.

“No guy has ever, like…asked what I like in the bedroom,” she admitted. “So I couldn’t explore things. Well I didn’t feel comfortable exploring things. But I know I can with you.”

William nodded his head. “Don’t worry, minskatt. We can start slow. No need to rush. You can tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go.”

“You too.”

“Hmm?”

“You tell me what you like and where you’re willing to go, and I’ll go there with you too.”

He nodded his head, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

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sunshinejins · 4 years ago

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if i was dying on my knees (you’d be the one to rescue me)

(title from brother by kodaline)

so, hi! jatp has reignited my desire to write again and this time i think i might actually finish a whole fic. so uh, here it is :) please let me know if you like it, I’ll hopefully update asap, but i’m in uni so asap may be in like two weeks. unless people really like it. then, probably sooner lmao.

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

warnings: death bc rose, and i swear once but other than that i think nothing else?

Julie didn’t want to be frustrated, she really didn’t. In fact, she wanted to be sad, mourning, depressed, or literally anything other than slightly pissed off all the time. It’s incredibly exhausting to be angry all the time, and she felt like being sad would at least give her blood a break from simmering.

But her mom died. And apparently her body only knows how to process grief by developing a rather annoying tendency to be irritated constantly.

She tries to forget it though. Instead of wallowing in the negative feelings that cloud her family in the months following Rose Molina’s death, she throws herself into distractions. She gets a job at a coffee shop near the USC campus and puts almost all her effort into becoming a top employee. Her grades don’t drop because thankfully her professors seemed to all inherently understand that she just couldn’t sing anymore. Like at all.

The world kept spinning. Julie could only hope to hold on.

That’s how she ended up, six months later, complaining over a milk frother about her very well-intentioned best friend to the only person she knew would listen.

“Flynn just doesn’t understand,” Julie moans, shutting off the machine and dumping the contents unceremoniously into a to-go cup. Her coworker, Allison, raises an eyebrow and swipes a rag at the milk spill that pools under the cup.

“Did she try to get you to sing again?”

“Surprise karaoke night with her girlfriend and a couple kids from class. Her intentions were pure though so I don’t even know why I’m upset.” Julie shoves a lid onto the cup and slides it across the counter to a pre-occupied businessman who doesn’t notice the extra milk soaked into the bottom. Allison nods thoughtfully and starts dumping coffee beans into the espresso machine. Julie watches her with slight awe. Allison was one of those people that terrified Julie when she met her; everything about her felt polished and put together down to the blunt cut of her pale blonde hair and the curve of her smirk when she smiled. Soon enough, Julie discovered that she was as warm as any of her other friends, but it had taken a lot of closing shifts and smoothie runs to come to that conclusion.

Allison sets down the bag of coffee beans and gives Julie one of her solemn looks; it’s the sort of look where Julie thinks Allison could probably read her mind if she tried hard enough.

“Maybe they’re going about it wrong. You haven’t been around music properly in what? A year? What if you just need to sit and listen to music again to just get you used to the environment?” Julie thinks for a moment. Allison raises a fair point, and it’s the complete opposite tactic that everyone else has been trying, which has been to shove music in front of her to sing and give her expectant and hopeful looks. It’s a trial run. Something casual.

“Where would I go?” Allison smiles a bit and passes Julie a container of oat milk to put away.

“There’s a bar off Sunset that’s hosting an open mic tonight. Very relaxed and casual vibes. I could pick you up from your apartment and take you. We haven’t hung out since that movie night a while ago.” Julie hesitates. It’s not that she’s opposed to spending a night with Allison, but a small part of her feels like she’s cheating on her current circle of emotional support humans by agreeing to go. Not that her dad or Carlos or Tia would mind, but Flynn would possibly take offence and that alone stalled Julie for longer than she realized. Allison clocks the look on her face and amends the statement.

“Flynn is obviously welcome too.”

A mind reader, Julie swears.

“Hell yeah. Let’s do this.”

***

Julie’s feeling significantly less optimistic when Allison’s car has been driven away by the valet and herself, Flynn, and Allison are all standing in line outside the club. Julie can feel the bass of the songs playing more than she can hear them, but the proximity of music is enough to make her palms sweat. Other than the music the coffee shop plays and the strains of country she hears through Carlos’ wall, Julie hasn’t heard proper music since Tia Victoria sang “Amazing Grace” for her mother’s funeral. Flynn notices her nervous look.

“Chill, Jules. It’s all very chill. We’re just gonna listen to a couple bands.”

“Flynn’s right. And if at any point you want to bail, we can go get soft pretzels.”

“But we should try and stay for the whole thing!”

“However, we’re also going to respect you if you can’t do that,” Allison punctuates this sentence with a meaningful eyebrow raise and Flynn nods vigorously. Julie swallows and tries to mimic the courage she had a few hours ago. The bartender scrutinizes their IDs for a moment before allowing them to sweep into the bar and Julie’s jaw nearly drops at the volume of people contained inside. Nearly every seat is filled, and the standing areas are packed with people all jamming to the band onstage that’s currently playing what Julie has to admit is a pretty kick ass cover of “Somebody Told Me” by The Killers.

Allison somehow discovers a table near the edge of the bar, and disappears off to get them drinks. Flynn’s rocking out already, and Julie feels a few of the nerves in her stomach even out as the realization that she doesn’t have to sing sinks into her bones. Allison was right, unsurprisingly. If she focuses hard enough, she can even push out the memories of coming to these sorts of open nights with her mom. Flynn shoots her a large and grateful grin and Julie lets herself smile back. She’s taking a step. She’s doing it.

Allison returns as the band switches and a new band begins to play a hyped up cover of “Africa” by Toto. The three girls lapse into quiet appreciation of the music, with Flynn singing along to every song played, Allison bobbing her head to herself and occasionally letting out a few notes in her vocal range, and Julie just quietly appreciating the fact that she doesn’t feel like throwing up.

It’s all very casual, just like her friends said.

Until it’s not.

As the third band of the night begins their last song, Julie retreats to find the bathroom. It’s hidden nearly backstage, and she’s just about to make it to the door when she hears the panicked shouts of someone from near the curtain which separates the small backstage from the actual performing area.

“Dude, I cannot believe he bailed on us.”

“Are you really surprised? Bobby was a piece of shit.”

“Hey, he didn’t use to be!”

“Calm down, Reg. You know he’s been treating us like garbage ever since that record label thought he had a ‘marketable voice’ or whatever they said.”

“Guys he bailed on us, what are we supposed to do?”

Julie, despite all the “stranger danger” lessons running through her brain, backed up far enough to see into the backstage area. Three guys stood there, two with a guitar and a bass each and one with drumsticks he was nervously twirling. The one with the guitar had his face buried in his hands and kept swearing heavily under his breath. The other two seemed frozen in their own panic as well. Guitar Player removed his hands from his face and Julie caught a glimpse of worried hazel eyes and dark curls. Bass Player opened his arms and Guitar Player tumbled into them for a hug while Drum Player rubbed his back. The three guys looked absolutely wrecked.

Here’s the thing: Julie had an uncontrollable urge to help people. It’s how she got roped into half of Flynn’s schemes, how she ended up teaching Carlos all of his second grade science curriculum herself, and how she somehow became the unofficial backbone of her family after her mom died. Seeing three guys utterly wrecked because, presumably, their fourth bandmate had bailed on them? It activated that uncontrollable urge deep in her stomach.

Here’s another thing: Julie hasn’t played music or sang in six months. She’s had no desire to, and every time she’s tried, the distinct urge to throw up overtook her. Tonight was supposed to be the baby step that showed her whether or not music was something she could seriously consider again; whether or not she could feel that itch to perform anymore.

“Hey, do you guys need a fourth?”

She felt the itch.

The three guys looked up in varying levels of shock. Drum Player recovered first, and stepped towards her hesitantly, wringing his pink hoodie as he did.

“Um, what?”

“It sounded like someone bailed on you. I can play. If you need it.” Guitar Player recovers next and nearly bounds over to her in barely contained excitement.

“You can play rhythm guitar?”

“No,” the three boys deflate, “I can play piano though.” Guitar Player tilts his head to the side as though playing a melody through in his head. He turns back to the other two.

“Bright could fit piano.”

“We never wrote the music for a piano component,” Drum Player wrinkles his nose.

“I did,” Guitar Player admits. The other two don’t look phased, though Bass Player does raise an eyebrow. “I was bored!”

“Okay, but we don’t want to put you out,” Drum Player turns back to Julie and she swallows.

“No, I offered. Let me see the music.”

“Okay, but you have like ten minutes!” Bass Player finally chips in with a surprisingly cheerful tone. Guitar Player hands Julie what looks like a piece of notebook paper and her eyes skim the words and notes. It’s feasible for sure, but she can feel the nerves prickling at her stomach. Guitar Player leans into her space and she clocks how ridiculously attractive he is up close. He gives her a smile.

“We alternative verses like this, see? And I don’t know your range, but we can figure that out on the go.” Julie gives him a small smile.

“Somewhere between mezzo-soprano and soprano.”

“We can work with that.” Guitar Player seems to vibrate with energy. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“No pressure,” Bass Player adds.

“Like seriously, none. We can just go home and cry,” Drum Player says. Julie isn’t sure. She really isn’t. In fact, she’s pretty sure she should just run away and hope she never sees these guys again.

“I’m sure.”

Well, that’s that.

Guitar Player sends her a smile that looks genuinely like someone has funnelled sunlight into his body and Julie feels the nerves lift for half a second. Then, they’re called to the stage and all of a sudden she feels like she could puke all over again. Guitar Player grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“You got this.”

Julie files out with the rest of the band and she’s extremely grateful her friends aren’t sitting in her direct line of sight. The piano is definitely worn out from use, but her fingers settle naturally on the keys and Julie tries to focus on the budding itch to perform in her stomach rather than the urge to throw up. She’s supposed to start this song. This song that she became aware of ten minutes earlier. She catches Guitar Player’s eye and he nods encouragingly.

She presses down on the keys and opens her mouth.

Sometimes I think I'm falling down

I wanna cry, I'm calling out

For one more try to feel alive

And when I feel lost and alone

I know that I can make it home

Fight through the dark and find the spark

#julie and the phantoms #julie molina #luke patterson #julie x luke #julie molina x luke patterson #juke #jukebox #jukebox fanfiction #juke fanfiction #julie x luke fanfiction #reggie peters #alex mercer #jatp #my writing #julie and the phantoms fanfiction #can i possibly tag this with anything else??? idk

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madpanda75 · 5 years ago

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“Taking Chances Part Three: Suspicions”

Finally posting Part Three! Sonny and the rest of the squad get suspicious about what’s going on with Rafael 👀 Check out the other chapters on my Masterlist. Part 4 will be posted this week! ❤️

You and Rafael had been together for one month. One exhilarating month. Neither of you expected to move so fast given your past romances. You had been left broken-hearted by your cheating ex-fiancé. For Rafael, it had been years since he had been in a relationship. He was once in love with his first serious girlfriend, Yelina, until she dumped him for his childhood best friend, Alex Muñoz. There were one or two girlfriends after that, but for the most part, Rafael buried himself in his work.

This time around was different. There was an undeniable connection between you both. An initial spark that quickly unfurled into an intense passion, made increasingly evident by the dirty looks your neighbors would give you the morning after Rafael spent the night. It felt as if you had been together forever.

Luckily for your neighbors, the majority of your evenings were spent at Rafael’s. Not only were his walls thicker, but his place was halfway between the precinct and the gallery, making it convenient for both of you.

One cold February morning you sat at Rafael’s kitchen counter, leisurely sipping a cup of coffee, sketching in your notebook while he got ready for the office. It was routine by this point. He padded into the kitchen, barefoot and half-dressed, wearing only his pants and an undershirt, his suspenders hanging loose at his sides.

You handed him a cup of coffee, not even bothering to glance up from your drawing. “Never would’ve taken you for a white chocolate macadamia nut fan,” you casually said.

Rafael nearly choked on his drink, instantly recognizing the flavored creamer hit his tongue. “Found it in the back of your fridge, hidden behind a bag of salad that looks like its been there since you moved into this apartment. I had no idea you were an International Delight kinda guy,” you teased, hooking your finger under his belt loop, tugging him towards you.

Rafael chuckled and took another long sip of his coffee. “What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” Leaning forward, he gave you a peck on the lips before glancing down at his watch. “I better get dressed. I’m running late.” He set his cup down, furrowing his brow as he took in your state of dress. “Is that the shirt I laid out last night? And my socks?”

You sheepishly smiled at him, fiddling with the hem of his light blue pinstripe shirt, your toes curling in his butter yellow socks. “What can I say? I like wearing your clothes. They inspire me,” you said with a shrug and handed over your sketchbook full of doodles. Well, to you they were doodles. To Rafael, they were works of art.

“While I’m thrilled that my Brooks Brothers apparel is your muse. May I please have my clothes back?” He placed the sketchbook back on the counter and checked his phone, expecting you to go into the bedroom to change—but you had other plans. With a smirk, you slowly began to unbutton the shirt, sliding it off your shoulders, revealing your naked body.

Rafael abruptly halted his text to Liv at the sight of your supple form. Licking his lips, he drank you in from head to toe while blindly trying to set his phone back down on the counter.

“What?” You feigned innocence and batted your lashes at him. “You wanted your clothes back, didn’t you?”

Rafael’s eyes darkened. “You now better than to tease Papi like that.”

You took a step closer and ran your hands up his arms, gently squeezing his biceps, your lips grazing along his neck. The smell of his cologne enveloped you, invigorating your senses. “Hmmm, you gonna punish me?” You purred in his ear.

Rafael let out a shaky breath. In an instant, he had hoisted you over his shoulder causing you to squeal in surprise. With a teasing slap to your ass, he turned around and headed straight towards the bedroom.

*****

Olivia walked out of her office to find her squad at one of the large conference tables in the bullpen, waiting to discuss a recent case SVU caught where a high school senior, Elena Reyes, was raped in her hotel room during a weekend field trip to New York.

“Where’s Barba?” Fin asked when he saw his lieutenant.

Olivia sighed and took off her glasses. “Texted me this morning and said he was running late again.”

Fin leaned back in his chair, his curiosity piqued. “That’s the sixth time this month. Wonder what’s going on?”

“Maybe he has a girlfriend,” Sonny chimed in while trying to balance a pencil on his nose.

Fin laughed. “Barba!? You gotta be kidding me! That man is married to his job. My Grandpa Iggy probably gets more action than him at the nursing home.”

Stranger things have happened,” Amanda said with her head down as she folded a piece of paper into a small paper football. “The man is wound tighter than a tourniquet. A girlfriend would be good for him.” Amanda took her paper football and aimed it towards Fin, who held up his fingers to resemble goal posts. She flicked it across the table, the football flying right between Fin’s waiting hands.

“Touchdown!” Fin exclaimed.

Olivia sighed. “Seriously, guys. Don’t we have anything better to do while we wait for Bar—”

“Sorry I’m late,” Rafael announced, bursting into the precinct.

The lieutenant’s eyes widened slightly, noticing his flustered appearance. A stark contrast to the razor-sharp, collected ADA she was used to working with. “Nice of you to join us,” she quipped.

“Yeah, traffic was a nightmare coming down Lafayette.” Rafael lied. He shrugged off his coat and set his briefcase down, making a beeline to the snacks set up next to the coffee pot. Your unexpected morning sexscapade had left him starving. He grabbed a handful of pretzel sticks and poured himself another cup of coffee before sitting down at the conference table. “So what do we have on the Elena Reyes case?” He asked, popping a few pretzels in his mouth.

Amanda cleared her throat. “You know, counselor, before we begin. I couldn’t help but notice how late you’ve been recently,” she said with a glint in her eye.

“Excuse me?” Rafael arched a brow at the young blonde detective.

Sonny crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, looking Rafael over. “Yeah, your shirt’s a little rumpled. Hair isn’t as coiffed as it normally is and—“ he leaned closer to Rafael and sniffed—“Do I smell perfume on your clothes?”

Rafael scowled and scooted his chair away from Sonny. “Is there a point to this line of questioning?”

“Yeah, you got a little honey on the side?” Fin added.

Rafael scoffed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Hey, we’re not judging,” Sonny said with his hands raised in the air as if he was surrendering. “After all you’re human. Everyone needs to get—”

Rafael interrupted, “Please for the love of God do not finish that sentence.” Feeling an onslaught of a migraine begin to set in, he closed his eyes and massaged his temples. Pushing thoughts of the lovely morning he had with you aside, Rafael switched gears. He opened his eyes and glared at everyone around the table. “I’m thrilled that my personal life is such an amusement to you all. But if you don’t mind, may we please get back to the Reyes case.”

“Barba’s right,” Olivia said. “Let’s get back to work. Fin, Rollins, you went to the hotel this morning. What did you get?”

Fin and Amanda debriefed everyone on what they found in Elena Reyes’s hotel room. Throwing a wrench in the case, the perp wore a condom and the hotel security cameras had been broken for months, but the squad was able to pinpoint at least three potential suspects.

As the discussion continued, Oliva couldn’t help but occasionally glance over at Rafael. Working in SVU for nearly twenty years had made her an expert at reading faces and Rafael’s face was a tell. His stare may have been icy but the slight blush of his cheeks; the way he averted his eyes—she knew he was hiding something.

Rafael stood up from the table and made his way over to the white board. The smug faces of the high school seniors stared back at him. “There’s still not enough physical evidence. No judge is going to sign off on a warrant for DNA swabs of a bunch of broskis. No matter how you spin it. Keep digging,” he said, grabbing his jacket and briefcase, abruptly leaving the bullpen. He hadn’t been able to stop by his office that morning, having gone straight from his apartment to the precinct and there was a mountain of paperwork waiting on his desk.

While waiting by the elevator doors, Rafael put his hand in his coat pocket, knitting his eyebrows when he felt a crinkle of paper. He pulled out a post-it with a small doodle. The doodle was of him asleep in bed—his hair sticking out at all ends; his face relaxed and content. You must have drawn it that morning.

He flipped the post-it over and saw a note in your hurried handwriting.

Check your other pocket.

Following your instructions, he reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small handful of black lace and silk, instantly recognizing them as your panties. He stuffed the skimpy lingerie back in his pocket, looking around to make sure no one had seen.

“Saucy minx,” he muttered to himself, unable to conceal the smile on his face as flashbacks came rushing back of your legs wrapped around his waist, moaning things in his ear—so dirty they would make a pornstar blush. What he wouldn’t give to be back in bed with you.

“Counselor,” Sonny called out, running over to Rafael. “Ya’ forgot this.” He handed him a file with several of the witness statements.

“Oh...thanks, Carisi.” Rafael tucked the file into his briefcase.

Rather than go back into the bullpen, Sonny stood there, rocking back on his heels. “Hey, Barba. About earlier, ya’ know we were just playin’. If you did find someone, I’m happy for ya’. She must be a pretty special person.”

Rafael gave Sonny a tight-lipped smile, gripping the panties in his pocket so tight, his nails dug into the meaty part of his palm. The elevator finally dinged, announcing its arrival. “Saved by the bell,” Rafael thought as he practically ran inside, frantically pushing the button to the lower level.

As soon as the doors closed, Rafael rested his head back against the wall, his whole body sighing in relief. He couldn’t help but feel guilty, sneaking around and dating you right behind Sonny’s back. Carisi may have been as annoying as a puppy yipping at your heels, but he was a good detective and would someday make a great lawyer. How would he feel knowing that the reason for Rafael’s recent tardiness was because of you. The perfume on his clothes and the panties in his pocket were yours. Sooner or later, you would have to break the news to Sonny. Rafael could only hope that he would take the news well.

*****

The texture of the polenta was perfect. The veal shanks were braising beautifully. It was the perfect evening in—all that was missing was your boyfriend. You invited Rafael over for dinner and a movie, knowing he had had a stressful week with the Elena Reyes case and that his fridge only contained a sad bag of salad and fancy coffee creamer.

Of course when you planned your romantic night in, you didn’t factor on a freak snowstorm. Taking a quick peek out the window, you were surprised at how fast the snow was beginning to accumulate. It was coming down in droves. “Guess this adds to the ambience,” you mumbled to yourself.

A familiar buzz pulled you away from the scenic view outside. You checked your phone, expecting it to be Rafael, but instead saw your brother had texted.

Hey, we’re supposed to get a blizzard tonight. Want me to come over? We can make pizza, watch a movie? It’ll be just like old times.

You smiled, remembering back to when you were kids and quickly sent your brother a reply.

I’d love that but I have other plans tonight. Rain check?

Although there was a big age gap between you and Sonny, whenever school was cancelled on account of snow, he would ditch his high school friends and spend the day with you instead. You would spend hours playing outside—sledding, and throwing snowballs. When it got too cold, he would bribe you into the house with countless games of Mousetrap and watch any Disney movie you wanted until you passed out on the couch.

You both were inseparable. Even now as adults, you would hang out at least once a week. Lately, between your job and Rafael, you barely had time to spend with Sonny. You knew he would begin to grow suspicious. The detective in him would be snooping around and asking questions as to why you were suddenly unavailable.

Your phone pinged again.

Yeah. I just never see you anymore. I miss you, kiddo. Everything ok?

You were just about to text your typical response that everything was fine when there was a knock at the door. Abandoning your phone on the kitchen island, you ran to the foyer and opened the door, busting out laughing the moment you saw Rafael.

He was completely covered, vaguely resembling the Michelin Man, wearing a thermal hat, wool scarf, and a puffy Canadian Goose jacket. You wouldn’t have recognized him if it weren’t for the striking seafoam green eyes peeking out from under the layers of clothes.

“Oh my God! Did you walk here?” you asked, wiping the snow off his jacket and scarf.

“The roads were so bad my Uber had to drop me off at the street corner.” He shed his outerwear and hung them up on your coat rack, finally resembling a human being and not a Yeti from the Himalayas. “It’s really coming down out there. I can’t believe we’re getting a snowstorm in March.”

“That’s global warming for ya’,” you teased, the tiniest hint of your Staten Island accent coming through. Cupping his face, you kissed his frozen pink cheeks, trying to bring some warmth back into his body.

“I brought some wine.” Rafael handed you a bottle of Brunello.

“This is perfect. It’ll pair nicely with the osso buco which I need to check on. Why don’t you open it and let it breathe for a bit while I finish dinner,” you called out over your shoulder while running back into the kitchen.

Rafael followed you inside, a mouth-watering smell wafting through the apartment. Your home was a stark contrast to his. It was cluttered but cozy. Organized chaos, you affectionately called it. Filled with mismatched furniture handed down by your family. Books and photographs of you and the rest of the Carisi clan littered the end tables. The walls were covered in your artwork. There was one piece in particular where you had painted a woman’s arm with a rose tattoo on her bicep holding a hammer, underneath was the phrase, “Smash the Patriarchy.”

He opened the bottle of wine, watching as you stirred a simmering pot on the stove, humming a Dean Martin song to yourself. You were casual and content, dressed in grey leggings, an oversized soft pink v-neck sweater, and thick wool socks. Your hair was up in a messy bun, a few loose tendrils framing your face. The sweater slid down, revealing your right shoulder. It was sexy and alluring, the subtle hint of skin just begging to be caressed.

Unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around your waist and left a trail of soft open-mouthed kisses up the curve of your neck. “Mmm delicious,” he purred.

Your eyes slipped closed as you reached back and ran your fingers through his hair. “Instead of tasting me, why don’t you try this sauce?”

“Who says I can’t do both.” He licked the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

A whimper escaped your lips. “You’re distracting me, Mr. Barba.” You dipped a spoon in the pot and turned to face Rafael, blowing on the hot liquid before holding it up to his lips.

He took a taste, moaning obscenely. “Ay Dios Mio, that is incredible.”

You beamed with pride but tried to brush off his compliment. “This is nothing. Wait till you try my homemade pasta.”

“I’m gonna have to buy bigger clothes if you keep feeding me like this.” He pushed you up against the counter and kissed you hard. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, massaging his tongue with your own. All thoughts of dinner were quickly forgotten. You were suddenly hungry for something else or someone else. His hands reached under your sweater when he glanced behind your shoulder and spied a photo of a certain blue-eyed detective on your fridge. Rafael froze and instantly pulled away.

“What’s the matter?” You panted, turning your head and following his gaze to the photo. “That was taken at my sister’s wedding in Montauk. I looked awful. I mean, I love my sister but she picked the ugliest bridesmaid dresses. I had so much hairspray in my hair that night, I couldn’t stand near an open flame.”

Rafael reached behind you and took the photo in his hand. You were right. The dress was hideous, a turquoise taffeta nightmare, but it wasn’t the dress that caught his attention. What first struck Rafael was how happy you looked with your big brother, smiling and hamming it up for the camera. It was obvious how close you both were.

Rafael felt a pang of jealousy. Growing up as an only child, life could be lonely. He would secretly wish for a little brother or sister so he could have someone to play with. Now looking back, he was grateful that it was only him. Having to endure his father’s abuse was bad enough, he couldn’t bear the thought of a sibling suffering alongside him.

Staring at the photo of your brother brought back that gnawing guilty feeling he had experienced earlier that week in the elevator. “When are we gonna tell him?”

“Soon,” you sighed and turned back to the stove, adding the gremolata to your sauce. “I’ve just been busy”

“Busy? I think you’re stalling.”

“It’s just…it’s complicated.” You gently pushed Rafael out of the way to reach a platter from the cupboard.

A sinking feeling began to form in the pit of his stomach. “You’re not ashamed of me, are you?” He quietly asked.

Hearing the pain in his voice, you immediately stopped plating the veal shanks and turned towards him “No! I could never be ashamed of you.” You vehemently shook your head and brought his hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “It’s me. Sonny’s never been easy when it comes to my boyfriends. Not even Theo, my ex, and he was our next door neighbor. You and Sonny work together. I’m just afraid it’ll complicate things. That I’ll complicate things and—” Then you’ll break up with me. You didn’t say it but the words hung heavy in the air.

Rafael cupped your face and softly stroked your cheek with his thumb, finding himself lost in your hypnotic eyes. “You’re Carisi’s sister. This was always going to be complicated. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worth. You’re worth it,” he whispered.

“Ok, we’ll tell him this week. I promise.” With a disarming smile, you held out your pinky to him. Rafael snorted a laugh but locked his pinky with yours. “Now that we’ve got that sorted. Why don’t you pick out a movie while I finish with dinner.” You playfully smacked his ass as he walked out of the kitchen.

While you were pouring the sauce over the meat, you heard Rafael call out from the other room. “Hey, what’s this?”

Your head snapped up. Dropping the pot with a clang, you ran out of the kitchen to find him by your easel about to take the tarp off your latest piece.

“FREEZE!” You slid across the hardwood floor in your wool socks, body blocking Rafael from the art. “Don’t touch that! It’s a surprise!”

Rafael’s eyebrows shot up into his forehead. “A surprise? For me?”

“No, for my other boyfriend,” you dryly said, rolling your eyes. “Yes, of course it’s for you and it's not ready, yet so no peeking.” You faced the easel to readjust the white tarp covering your art. Curious as to what the mysterious shroud contained, Rafael stepped closer and peered over your shoulder. “I mean it.” You turned and gave him a stern look before softening your face. “Did you decide on anything? I don’t have a big selection so if nothing appeals to you, we can watch Netflix or something.”

Rafael smiled and grabbed your hips. With your body flush to his, he kissed you, nuzzling his nose with yours. “Tell you what. You cooked so you can pick the movie.”

You bit your lip and lifted your eyes to the ceiling as if you would find the answer hanging in the air. “It’s a toss-up between Titanic or Alien.”

He made a face and rubbed his stomach. “I would say Alien, but I don’t know if I can handle that chest-bursting scene while eating.”

“Hmm good point. Titanic, it is then!” You announced and went to grab the DVD of the sweeping romance.

*****

You and Rafael snuggled up on the couch under a blanket, watching Jack and Rose fall madly in love with each other on the doomed passenger liner while having a lively discussion about whether or not there was in fact enough room on the door for both of them. The decision was unanimous—there was enough to room, although Rafael did argue about buoyancy.

By the time the old lady dropped the diamond necklace into the ocean, you both could barely keep your eyes open, exhausted from a long hard week. Turning off the TV, you trudged down the hall, hand in hand.

You wordlessly got ready for bed. Rafael finished brushing his teeth and walked into the bedroom where you were undressing. Your body illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window. He stopped in his tracks, having never seen a more glorious sight, committing every curve, every freckle to memory.

You caught his eye and smiled, blushing under his intense gaze. Rafael had seen you naked countless times, but this time felt different. The way he stared at you, as if you were some otherworldly creature that had come into his life.

He stepped closer and stood in front of you, reaching out to stroke your hair. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.

Your heart fluttered. Slowly, you began to undress him, tugging off his navy blue crewneck sweater, unbuttoning his jeans, shedding layer after layer, until he was naked. “What are you doing?” he asked.

You didn’t respond, rather you placed a soft kiss on the left side of his chest, right over where his rapidly beating heart lay before wrapping your arms around him. There were no sexual undertones in that precious quiet moment. All you wanted was for Rafael to feel your love for him in that simple gesture.

A lump formed in his throat. Rafael had never experienced a love like this. It had been years since he allowed himself to feel this way. He didn’t realize how deeply he could love one person and more importantly that he deserved that kind of love in return. Instead of cautiously dipping his toe into the water, he jumped in feet first. Those precarious walls he had built came crumbling down under your slightest touch. Standing there with you in his arms, he didn’t feel vulnerable or exposed; he felt safe, like he was home.

He lead you over to the bed and gently laid you down on the mattress before moving next to you. That night Rafael covered you like a blanket, his kisses tender, passionate, and all-encompassing. It wasn’t long before you both fell asleep, holding each other close; the snow softly falling outside your bedroom window.

Meanwhile somewhere off in the distance, your phone buzzed, the battery dangerously low.

Hey, I think I left my immigration law book at your place. I’m gonna stop by tomorrow morning and pick it up. I’ll even make chocolate chip pancakes :)

The text message from your brother flashed on the screen once before the battery ran out and your phone died.

@glimmerglittergirl @southern-magnolia @sweetcannolicarisi @delia26 @obfuscateyummy @sass-and-suspenders @eclecticminded @thatesqcrush @katmstanton @amirightcounsellor @beltzboys2015-blog @letty-o @sonnysdoll @lyssa1385 @sweetsummertime99 @burningsorr0ws @gibbs274 @izzythefanfreak @riodallas @babypink224221 @livxrafa @esparza-army @obsessionprofessional @ottosuricato @melsquared79 @dreila03 @frenchiefoxy @tropes-and-tales @thecraziestcrayon @goodluckfindingone @graniairish @lolacolaempath @ashley-chi @imjustreallynosy @scarletsoldierrr

#rafael barba #rafael barba fanfic #rafael barba fic #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #barba #barba fic #barba fanfic #barba x reader #barba imagine #law and order svu fic #law and order svu imagine #rafael barba fan fiction #taking chances

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stardomyx · 5 years ago

Photo

DISCLAIMER: Before I begin I would like to establish that NOBODY has to agree with or even like my Lore, especially since this particular post is on a Canon Character. These are purely my headcanons and my thoughts on this character, I am not about to force these ideas/headcanons onto anyone.

After re-reading Spaghetti’s backstory and thinking over the little system I have in place for Food Soul ranks, I realised that Spaghetti would be a pretty interesting subject for this theory. So lets talk about him.

First of all, I have to say that the way Spaghetti’s backstory is written is a little strange, as it seems to imply that he both was and wasn’t with his Master Attendant while he was still living in poverty. However it’s also stated in his story that his MA’s true family took him in because of his potential as an Attendant, a potential that no one else in the family had, therefore giving him the ability to summon a high ranking Food Soul in the first place. So with that being said I think it’s safe to assume that the first part of the story can be believed, and Spaghetti was summoned directly into the estate belonging to his MA’s family.

Which starts us off on the topic of this post:

I’ve stated a few times that most UR Food Souls are of such a rank because they’re one of a kind, whether it’s due to them having abnormally high power levels or some other reason. One of these reasons is that they were customised for whichever Attendant summons them, these Attendants will most commonly be those of the upper class like those in government, and of course, royal families. Da bourgeoise basically. You guys will have to forgive me for not knowing exactly how this customisation process works yet, but I do definitely think that the custom Food Soul would end up as a physical manifestation of everything their Attendant wants in a companion. To give an example; a Guild official would like a professional and hardworking Food Soul who would also be a good ambassador to the Guild, so that’s what they would get. The process is by no means cheap, and the resulting Soul is often a bit of an anomaly, regardless of what line they come from, thus creating a completely one of a kind UR.

So; Spaghetti’s Attendant, what do we have? We have a young boy who started off very roughly in life, living in poverty, who has recently been sought out and adopted into this very high class family. No doubt his mindset is a little bit scrambled, he’s got one foot on the gravy train and the other is no doubt still firmly set in the place where he had lived previously as he tries to adjust. So as a result of these mashed up mindsets we get canon Spaghetti; a Soul who - considering the dish itself - probably wouldn’t be considered by a lot of upper class humans, but because of the influence of the family and his Master’s background, canon Spaghetti turned out very differently to how the rest of his line would typically be. I would imagine that the rest of the Spaghetti line are mostly M and R ranks because of the dish itself being a staple food. It’s a very well known and common dish, so you typically wouldn’t find a Spaghetti soul above a R rank because they’re common, like a Tom Yum or an Orange Juice. But, because canon Spaghetti was summoned into an upper class family by an Attendant who had roots in a far more humble background, that all mashed together to form him, a custom made Spaghetti.

An UR rank Spaghetti. At least at first.

My theory is that canon Spaghetti started out as an UR ranking Soul for a couple of reasons, one of the biggest reasons is actually highlighted in the post’s header, (the art is by the always talented @gearfilledgoggles so please go and commission them if you have the funds.) The reason being that he has violently purple eyes, and with the exception of just two other SR Food Souls, Spaghetti is the only non UR to have purple eyes, which incidentally is what lead me to think about this theory in the first place.

The two other SR Souls I mentioned both could’ve been UR’s themselves, playing into this theory of purple eyes = UR. But I’ll get onto that later. But they both strengthen this theory.

The second reason is because of the environment he was summoned into. His MA got a protector and a father figure in a Food Soul, I have no doubt that Spaghetti was tailored to what his Attendant had been lacking in his early life, therefore he was customised, making him one of a kind within his own line and therefore a UR.

The third reason is actually something I have to provide some quotes for. If you guys remember the Castle Mystery event, we’re introduced to the Fallen Angel Bone Knight, a pretty fearsome Fallen who’s on the same level as Tsuchigumo and the Enhanced Uke Mochi as we see in the future team ups. This would add absolutely nothing to this theory if Spaghetti just happened across Bone Knight and chose to use its power for his own gain, but that isn’t the case at all. If we look at some of the dialogue from the Castle Mystery event, we see quite a lot of evidence that points towards Bone Knight being a product of Spaghetti’s corrupted Soul Power, here we go:

"Oyster pushed the door open to find Spaghetti sitting on the throne in the main hall. In his hands, he was holding a pale blue stone. Behind him was the Fallen Angel that had ambushed them.” - Castle Mystery Main Story Chapter 8.

“Let me introduce you. This Fallen Angel here took me a lot of effort to create-- Actually, it seems that you've already met Bone Knight." He couldn't tell for sure, but it seemed to Pretzel that Spaghetti's voice was more downcast than usual, and it seemed to have a self-deprecating tone. - Castle Mystery Main Story Chapter 8.

And finally 3)

"A Fallen Angel made from human ill will concentrated in Bluestones." - Bone Knight’s wiki page.

Blue stones, huh? Like the one we see Spaghetti looking for in B-52′s backstory? Curious. I’ve seen theories floating around that these stones are essentially for purification, they’re vessels for holding impurity until they can be cleansed - kinda like how humans use crystals and other such things IRL. My theory? This Fallen Angel was born out of the corruption of Spaghetti’s Soul Power, and because of the - well - power contained within that Soul Power, Bone Knight ends up being what we see in the event, huge, terrifying and destructive. Personally, I think it’s a bit odd that Spaghetti - a Food Soul who in game isn’t that great of a unit - was able to create something like this, unless he wasn’t always a SR unit, and the power he is able to use has been stunted somehow.

And the reason behind his power being stunted is.. Pretty much why he needs to siphon off that corruption using blue stones in the first place. It’s because of his contract with his Master Attendant being severed in such a cruel way. That severance didn’t just leave him with scars, it left him vulnerable to corruption, it left him vulnerable to the possibility of Falling. Spaghetti has taken part in a lot of unscrupulous activities - including murder - so it’s no surprise to me that he’s picked up enough corruption to Fall. Not only has it left him open and exposed to the possibility of Falling, but because of how traumatic that severance was, it’s also dulled down his Soul Power. Essentially the family who took in his Attendant played themselves by killing him, they had a UR ranking Strength unit, but because of their selfishness they ended up with a far less powerful Soul than they started with. A less powerful Soul who’s also capable of producing a destructive monstrosity like Bone Knight out of the corruption he takes on.

And lastly, as for the two SR Souls I mentioned above who also have purple eyes, I’m of course referring to Marshmallow and Fried Chicken, both of whom I think could’ve been UR’s too because of these reasons: In Marshmallow’s case, she’s deathly afraid of fire, which implies that she may have been in a traumatic event to form this fear. Key word here being trauma, something that I believe can cut down Soul Power and leave the Food Soul at a lower rank than they started with. And as for Fried Chicken, we don’t know exactly how he ended up as a SR unit, but we do have this in his bio on the wiki page: “He's searching everywhere for ways to become stronger, so he can keep up with his attendant.” He’s trying to become stronger, huh? This need to become stronger and burn brighter is highlighted very strongly in his voice lines, which gives me the inkling that he’s trying to regain some power of some kind. If he was previously a UR unit and suffered some trauma to bring him down to SR, of course he would be fascinated with gaining more power and possibly climbing back up to his original UR rank. It may seem far fetched, but I think there’s some substance to it, all things considered.

Tl;dr: Spaghetti strikes me as a far, far more powerful Soul than canon portrays him to be. Because of his ability to form Bone Knight, because of the circumstances under which he was summoned and because of his eye colour. Lets just take a quick peek at what the colour purple can represent: royalty, nobility, luxury, ambition and power.

#Food Fantasy #FF Spaghetti #FF Fried Chicken #FF Marshmallow #Food Fantasy Lore #i love this bastard so much

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petrichoravellichor · 5 years ago

Note

Can I please have a (platonic) Balthazar and Castiel in the prompt “-some dude with a megaphone is spewing homophopic crap outside the cafeteria and we’re both protesting him because the college is adamnant about his freedom of speech rights, make out with me to piss him off?”

Can I Get an Amen

Relationship: Balthazar & Cas (platonic)

Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Naomi (unnamed, but it’s her)

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Balthazar POV, Bi-/Pansexual Balthazar, Slightly Hippie!Cas (like, a mixture of Endverse!Cas + Crazy!Cas), Bees, Homophobic Language (which gets shut the fuck down), Very Exaggerated Make-Out Session Between Friends (to piss off a homophobe, so it’s for a good cause)

(Ao3)

*****

When Sam’s alarm went off at seven a.m., Balthazar’s first thought upon jarring awake was that he was going to throw the bloody phone out the window. (He didn’t, because doing so would have required him to get up, but it was a near thing.) Balthazar had no idea what sort of cosmic fuck-up he’d committed in a previous life to get landed with a roommate for whom going for an early morning run beat out having a lie-in, but as he grumbled under his breath while Sam rose and dressed, he felt fairly certain that fate was having a laugh at his expense.

Sam, the bastard, found this all very amusing.

“You know,” Sam said mildly as he sat on the edge of his bed and did up his shoelaces, seemingly impervious to the death-glare Balthazar was giving him, “it wouldn’t kill you to get up a few hours before your first class. You don’t even have to exercise: you could just, like, read or get some extra studying in or something.”

Balthazar snorted. “I could, yes, but why on earth would I,” he said, stretching luxuriously beneath his sheets, “when I could just as easily stay in bed and dream of having a ménage à-whatever-French-for-twelve is?”

“Okay, one, it’s douze, and two, ew. Also, don’t even pretend like you could keep up with that many women.”

“Mm, bold of you to assume they were all women.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway,” he said, standing, “I’m gonna go. Have fun dreaming about naked people.”

He left, and Balthazar promptly buried his head under his pillow, determined to fall back asleep. He gave up after half an hour of angry tossing and turning, rising in a huff and stomping over to his dresser. If he was doomed to be awake this early, then he might as well go down to the quad and fetch himself something caffeinated to drink.

Ten minutes later, he was trudging down the steps outside the dorm building and mulling over various forms of revenge—his current favorite consisted of tossing out one of Sam’s beloved running shoes, then watching with glee as Sam searched for it in vain—when he heard a voice from the lawn to his left:

“You’re up early.”

Balthazar turned and spotted his friend Cas, who was currently dressed in a loose-fitting shirt and sweats; he was barefoot, balancing on one leg with the other tucked up under him, palms pressed together, and was peering at Balthazar with a mixture of surprise and amusement. “I didn’t know you even existed before noon.”

Balthazar sighed. “Yes, well, annoying roommates with early alarms are annoying.”

“Ah.” Cas shifted into a different pose, placing both feet flat on the grass and raising his arms above his head. “And here I thought I’d finally convinced you to try yoga with me.”

“Cassie, the day I willingly twist myself into a pretzel while both clothed and sober is the day I forgive you for making me sit through three hours of that god-awful Titanic movie.”

“You’re just mad because you hate Celine Dion.”

“It’s not her I hate, it’s that bloody song! And furthermore,” Balthazar added, pointedly ignoring Cas’s snicker, “our dear Rose’s heart wouldn’t have had to go on if she’d just done a better job of making room for Jack on that piece of fucking debris.”

“It was a door.”

“It was a travesty, is what it was, and I’ll thank you to quit bringing it up. Now then,” he said, jerking his thumb in the direction of the quad, “I’m going for a latte. Care to join me? Or have you still got to do your downward doggy-style or what have you?”

Cas rolled his eyes and reached for his sandals. “It’s downward dog, and no, I’m done.”

“Brilliant, you’re buying.”

They headed toward the quad, Cas talking animatedly about some new Save the Bees project he and a few others in the Environmental Club were hoping to kick off soon. Balthazar, who was busy trying to decide if he wanted a muffin or a scone with his latte, was only half listening, a decision he regretted when he heard Cas say, with a hint of smugness, “I knew I could count on you,” and, after a quick mental replay, realized that he’d just agreed to attend an all-day event that coming weekend. Fuck. He opened his mouth to give an excuse when a commotion ahead caught his attention.

A small crowd had gathered at the edge of the quad; as Balthazar and Cas neared, Balthazar saw that at its center was a middle-aged brunette woman dressed in formal clothing who was speaking into a megaphone:

“…TIME HAS COME TO RENOUNCE YOUR SINFUL LIFESTYLE AND REMEMBER THAT ONLY THROUGH GOD’S GRACE CAN YOU ENTER THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN, FOR THE BIBLE TELLS US THAT MAN SHALL NOT LIE WITH MEN AS HE DOES WITH WOMEN, THAT IT IS AN AB—”

“—SOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL WAY TO SPEND A FRIDAY NIGHT!” interjected Balthazar, causing the woman to pause and several heads to turn in their direction.

The woman lowered her megaphone. She looked from Balthazar to Cas and back again. “I am here to spread the Lord’s teachings to you and others like you, those who have been led astray by immoral temptations of the flesh. You should thank me.”

Balthazar let out a bitter laugh. “Thank you? What on earth for?”

The woman frowned. “I told you, I’m here to spread the Lord’s teachings—”

Balthazar cut her off. “You did, twice. Good for you.” He crossed his arms. “But, you see, we’re a litter-free campus, so it’d be lovely if you took your rubbish elsewhere.”

Several of the surrounding students cheered. The woman glanced around, seemingly unsure. “I have a permit. I’m allowed to be here.”

“We’re students,” said Cas. “We pay money to be here.” Even more people cheered. “And incidentally, the line you’re referring to, Leviticus 18:22, condemns pedophilia, not homosexuality.”

Balthazar turned to Cas. “What, really?”

“Yes. The original wording translates to ‘man shall not lie with young boys’.” Cas regarded the woman coolly. “Also, since you claim to concern yourself with the word of God, I’d check the tag on that suit. Leviticus 19:19 prohibits wearing garments that mix linen and wool.”

The woman pressed her lips together in a thin line. “I will not be lectured on my faith by a young man who has clearly lost his way.”

“I’m not lecturing you,” responded Cas. “I’m simply telling you what the Bible says.”

“You mock me.”

“You do that to yourself.”

The woman scowled, eyes boring into Cas. “There are places that can help you, programs that can teach you to make more Godly choices.”

“You’re referring to so-called conversion therapy,” said Cas, and though he was still speaking calmly, there was an edge to his voice that Balthazar rarely heard, “a practice that has been discredited by every leading expert on human sexuality for over two decades.”

“Despite what you think, it can be effective if you’re willing, if you want to be fixed—”

“We’re not broken,” said Cas. “Your beliefs are.”

“Now wait just a minute—”

“Oh, piss off!” snapped Balthazar. Cas might have had the patience to deal with this sort of thing uncaffeinated, but he most certainly did not. “Aren’t there more important things you could spend your energy bitching about? Take bees, for example: they’re dropping dead at an alarming rate, which could have frankly catastrophic effects on our food supply, but no, you’re right, let’s get all dressed up and tell gay people they’re going to hell because they have the audacity to be themselves, that’s clearly the bigger priority.”

Cas gave him a surprised smile. “You were listening about the bees.”

“Of course I was listening, I’m a wonderful friend like that. Speaking of,” said Balthazar, turning to Cas with a raised eyebrow, “fancy a friendly snog to piss off this hag?”

Cas thought a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?”

“That’s the spirit,” said Balthazar bracingly, grabbing a fistful of Cas’s shirt and pulling him in for a kiss.

There was no real heat to it—at the end of the day, Balthazar knew Cas was about as romantically interested in him as he was in Cas; that is to say, not at all—but in for a penny, in for a pound. Balthazar closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Cas’s shoulders, letting out an exaggerated moan; he could feel Cas practically shaking with suppressed laughter and gave him a very subtle pinch. Cas let out a muffled snort before gasping, “Oh, Balthazar!” in mock passion and pressing their lips more firmly together; he even groaned a bit, which at which point it was Balthazar’s turn to bite back a chuckle.

Thankfully, their tactic worked: the students around them erupted into applause, and scarcely five seconds had passed before the woman let out an affronted huff and stormed off. Once the sound of her heels had sufficiently faded, Balthazar cracked an eye open and, with the visual confirmation that she was gone, gave Cas a tap on the shoulder, stepping back with a grin. “Well, that went swimmingly, wouldn’t you say?”

Cas looked off in the direction the woman had gone. “It did seem to have the desired effect, although,” he added, lips twitching in a poorly concealed smirk as he reached into his pocket and produced a tube of organic lip balm, “you probably need this more than I do.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Oh, we’re giving post-snogging critiques, are we? Here, then.” He took the lip balm and, in exchange, held out a small tin of mints. “You absolutely need this more than I do.”

Cas snorted, accepting the mints and making a show of popping one into his mouth; Balthazar, for his part, applied a liberal amount of lip balm. “Right, then,” he said, smacking his lips together and pocketing the tube, “coffee?”

#balthazar #cas & balthazar #balthazar & cas #supernatural #spn #fanfiction #my writing #can i get an amen #cw: homophobic language #cw: homophobia

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nothingeverlost · 5 years ago

Note

lenny/midge please? 'when i first saw you, the end was soon'

And the award for most cheerful prompt goes to...

Set a couple of years in the future. Trigger warnings for drug references. Loosely based on historical events. Do I have to warn for swearing in a Lenny and Midge fic or is that just assumed?

I’m still finding my feet with these two. Feedback is much appreciated.

@phoenixwrites @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels tagging you for obvious reasons.

“I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet. That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me. I’ll be a good little boy. No booze, nothing up my nose.“

“Do you know what I thought the first time I saw you in front of a room?” Lenny was in the passenger seat, half slumped against the door. She had the heater on despite the fact that it was June in California, but he was still shivering.

“That I was a lightweight in addition to being a complete mess?” Two hits from a joint and she’d not only completely forgotten to introduce the band, but she’d committed the sin of getting too serious during a set.

“I thought there she is, finally. It’s going to be okay when I’m done because she’s there and she’d just getting started. You stood up there and you were real.” He held up his hand and gestured at the window as if pointing to a stage that was three thousand miles away and years in the past. “And I knew that arrest wasn’t an anomaly. You were going to take on the world and you were going to be a hell of a lot better at it than I was.”

“Do you have an oven?” She hated California traffic. If she was in New York she could have just relied on cabs but they were rare around here and cost too much when everything was miles apart and so she’d rented a car. In the moment, though, she was glad to have something else to focus on.

“Do I have a what?” For just a moment he sounded like himself, not the shadow that had called her from the hospital. He’d repeated himself twice before she’d realized it was him.

“An oven. You’re renting a place, right? My hotel doesn’t have an oven.”

��I think they’re pretty standard in a kitchen and I have one of those. Midge…”

“I’m making a brisket. We’ll stop at the store when I see one and pick up a few things. You can stay in the car if you want but a little walking would be good for you and I don’t know what you like and what you hate. For eating. I don’t see you eat very much, you know? We’ve shared what, half a dozen meals together and half of those were pretzels and nuts.” ‘When I’m done’ he said, and she was talking like if she said enough she could stop hearing the echo of it in her head. He could have been done last night, according to the nurse.

“I needed a ride home because I didn’t have my wallet. That doesn’t mean you’re obligated to cook for me. I’ll be a good little boy. No booze, nothing up my nose. Just me and my bed for the rest of the day.” He struggled to sit up in the seat.

“You’re too thin and you need some red meat.” Midge pulled into the parking lot of the first grocery store she saw. “Oh fuck, you just made me sound like a Jewish yenta.”

“The last thing I think of when I see you is yenta.”

“Sure.” No, he thought of her as caring on a tradition or some shit that let him off the hook. “Are you coming in?”

“Why not.” She often thought of Lenny as dancing, even before the first time they’d been on the dance floor together. He seemed to glide as he moved, to sway, nothing so banal as just walking. As they walked through the parking lot his steps were almost mechanical, as if he was trying to remember how humans moved. She nodded to the carts; maybe having something to hold onto would help him.

She’d forgotten it was Valentine’s Day. The moment they walked through the doors they were assaulted by red and pink hearts, sales on steak, and plastic cupids ‘flying’ precariously over the produce department. Great. She was twice divorced (from the same man) very single, and stupidly in love with a man who apparently thought of her as his replacement.

“The brisket will take hours so I’m getting some chicken soup. I hope their deli has a decent one. We need carrots and potatoes. You should have some fruit too; I hear oranges are good out here.” She pushed the cart through the produce department first, adding apples as well. Some lettuce too, for a salad with dinner.

“Midge.”

“If I know you there’s probably not much in your fridge. We should get some milk and some cheese. And we’ll get some crackers, those are good when your stomach is upset. How do you feel about Jell-o?” She led him to the meat department so she could get the brisket.

“Midge.”

“I prefer a butcher for my meat, they know their cuts better, but sometimes you just have to settle.” At least the man behind the counter seemed to know what he was doing.

“Miriam.” She couldn’t ignore him with a hand on her arm. Couldn’t move forward.

“This is where you want to do this, Lenny? Here, surrounded by yogurt and paper hearts and discount packages of frozen vegetables? What do you want me to say, though I’m okay with you trying to kill yourself because hey, I’ll be around to pick up the pieces and my life will suck the moment I get that phone call but at least I will have something to talk about when I’m on stage?” It was so goddamn cold. Someone needed to change the settings on the refrigerators before the milk started freezing. Midge reached for the cart but stopped herself. “Make your own damn brisket if that’s how you feel because fuck you. I lived my life for a man once and I am never doing that again. This is my life. I’m not here to replace you or continue your act or whatever the hell it is that you want.”

It wasn’t hard to pull away from him, breaking his hold. His hand was trembling. “I’m not trying to kill myself.”

“You’re not trying to not kill yourself either.” He’d lost too much weight, his clothes hanging off him. The shadows under his eyes spoke of a lot more than a missed night of sleep. Heroin, the nurse had said. From her own experience there was alcohol too, and marijuana. And missed meals.

“I just need a break from all this.” His hand fluttered near his forehead. “It makes the world stop for a little while.”

“Ma’am, someone reported a disturbance back here. Is this man bothering you?” A man in a very bad sweater vest and a name tag that said “Manager Chip” approached them. Midge almost laughed. Disturbance? He didn’t know the half of it.

“We’re fine,” she lied. “My husband is just out of the hospital after a bomb exploded in his office and he’s a little hard of hearing still.”

“Yes ma’am. Sorry to bother you.”

“A bomb?” Lenny cocked his head to the side.

“Would you have preferred syphilis?” She sighed. “We should go. Leave the cart, someone will sort it out.”

“I’ve heard stories of this brisket of yours. Legends. I’d like to see if it lives up to the rumors.”

“Lenny.” He was smiling for the first time since she’d seen him six months ago in Chicago. That damn grin of his, the one she never saw on stage but only when they were alone, was a curse. It could get her to do almost anything.

“You’re no one’s second act, Midge. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

“You’re not replaceable. Not on stage and not off it either.” She’d been using Lenny Bruce as a measuring stick since she’d seen him in college. It wasn’t fair to him, and really wasn’t fair to other men, but somehow he’d become a part of the center of her universe. She either needed to pull away completely or she needed to stop hiding from it. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You’re too good for me, Midge.”

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say. You can decide to be my friend or you can tell me to fuck off. You can be my lover or you can tell me you’re not interested. Decide for yourself but you don’t get to decide for me.”

“I can’t promise you a future, I don’t know how much I have in me.” It scared her to know that he only spoke the brutal truth.

“I’m not asking for promises. I’m asking for you to sit at a table and eat soup while I make dinner. I’m asking you to sleep in a bed and tomorrow we’ll see if this town has anything that passes as a deli. And maybe, if you want, you can talk to me a little. We’re pretty good at not talking to each other, maybe it’s time we try something different.”

“How novel.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The soup might need to wait until he’d had a nap first.

“I’m not just getting started anymore, Lenny. I’ve been around the block. I know enough to know what I want and what I can handle.” She grabbed the cart. They needed to get out of the grocery store. Melting down on stage was enough without adding grocery stores to the list.

“You can tell I feel like crap because I don’t have a single joke ready for what I’d like you to handle.”

“I’ll give you a twenty-four hour grace period. You can give me your best joke tomorrow.” Thank God she didn’t have a show tonight.

“Tomorrow. Yeah, okay, I can do that.” He walked next to her, hands in his pockets. “Don’t forget the Jell-O. I like the green one. But if there are any vegetables in there I won’t eat it.”

“How do you feel about pineapple?”

“I wouldn’t object.” They stopped in the baking aisle for Jell-O and a cake mix. One of the paper hearts had fallen; she didn’t see it until she’d rolled over it with the cart. It felt like the setup for a joke in her act. She hoped it wasn’t a sign.

“Let’s go home.”

#lenny x midge #the marvelous mrs. maisel #the marvelous mrs. maisel fic #my fic #actuallylorelaigilmore

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dahniwitchoflight · 5 years ago

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Candy 22-23

hmm, interesting, so 5 minutes of Terezi time equals about 2 weeks of John time?

What’s the math on that, how many minutes are in a week? 10,080? Neat.

what’s that divided by 5? 2016?

so time is moving almost 2000 times faster for John than it is for Terezi?

a Day for Terezi is literally 5 and a half Years for John by that Math.

All of John’s conversations have been happening over the course of not even 2 full days for Terezi so far, and by John’s estimation that she only ever messages every year or so

that turns out to be like, every 260 minutes for Terezi?? If my math is correct? (525,600 minutes / 2016 = 260 minutes = 4.333... hours)

4 and 1/3 hours.

oh my god, Terezi and John talk literally every 4 hours and 20 minutes that’s hilarious they turned 413 into a 420 weed joke that’s amazing

I wonder if Terezi takes his convo’s seriously or just think it’s an extended prank that their both neck deep in at this point? I mean, they joke with eachother a lot and he literally messages her what seems from her point of view, literally every 4:20 (Trolls understand weed jokes because I said so and because it’s funny)

Does he ever send her pic’s of what they all look like as adults? Does she think it’s badly like, photoshopped or something like what she used to do with Dave?

Or does she really know? Either way is interesting to be honest

Wait, did Gamzee make out Jake’s/Jane’s son Tavros?? Why is John so nonchalant about that?

or is it a different Tavros???

I’m confused, or maybe not, John’s going straight into a line that says take Tavros away from his family. what the fuck is Gamzee doing.

So I guess this is what happens to all non canon timelines? They get torn to shreds by the inevitable cosmic background blender that is the giant black hole thing in Meat?

Oh god Jane made a crockership, yeah we’re in the nosedive of all of Jane’s unsavoury tendencies made manifest

we don’t need a tiara here, this was carefully manifested and nurtured to happen by another guy who all fell into the worst version of himself

Sad to see karkat and dave seperated too, but interesting karkat finally got fed enough enough to lead a resistance

this friend circle is really going down the shits

but then again, kind of was to be expected, i mean, it’s not like they were all actually friends, there wasn’t really much of an extended friend circle for the alpha kids. its a stretch to even say John and Jane were close friends because they didn’t really have much interaction with each other either

Jane and Jake is pretty much a lost cause, Dirk is dead and also encouraging her downfall, and Roxy is totally accepting of everything around her for better or worse, and Calliope and Jane were never close not to mention Calliope seems content to just follow Roxy everywhere

there’s literally no one actually close enough to Jane to have an actual “i care about you’re my friend” conversation with that would actually feel genuine, so it’s kind of inevitable she’d end up like this in this sort of situation with no one to help her steer her course

John’s getting desperate to feel some sense of reality again, that picture of Terezi is almost like an anchor in the storm

he’s only attached to his reality because of his personal investment into it, like he’s too deep in it now to ever escape, not because he really truly cares and is happy I think but because he’s put so much effort into making this all work

Also damn, he’s really gonna kidnap Tavros, but i mean like, I don’t blame him if apparently his sort of father clown figure has been making out with him as part of a religious cult nonsense i hope im interpreting that wrong but he literally says PBandJ again and says Tavros, so like, who else could he mean

Fake redemption nonsense finally going down the toilet where it belongs

but damn, John’s gonna start a war I can see it now, this is gonna pop Jane’s cork and for all we know she could easily use it as an excuse to attack trolls by blaming the kidnapping on them

You know what is so interesting about this though?

Jane was raised by the condesce, and feared alternian society like it was inherent to trollkind

but here she is displaying that same tyranny in the name of humanity, it does a good job of showing this bullshit isn’t inherent to any person or race

but man, it is ironic how much of a mini Condesce Jane is becoming, complete with her own Grand High Blood too, while fighting what she probably considers tyrannical trollkind

It’s cute how Harry talks in a lighter Roxier shade of blue though, unfortunately due to the name I can imagine anything except Harry Potter being their actual child, Harry Anderson as a figure means nothing to me even though I know the reference and the picture that shows up in Homestuck I get the joke

Maybe it’s because it’s also Roxy’s child and she always had a thing for wizards so

Tavros talking in a dark purple is less endearing, because it so clearly shows that despite supposedly being a product of love between Jane and Jake, Gamzee as a weird third interloper has entirely taken over this family

Gamzee being the auspistice for Jane and Jake doesn’t sound good. Weird that he’s seen as like an Uncle figure too. This family is messed up to hell.

mmm.. I don’t think Jake and Jane are in a kismesis...

*UPSETTING CHILD ABUSE CONTENT AHEAD*

I don’t like how uncomfortable Tavros seems to be with an uncle figure taking him up to his bedroom im getting all kinds of bad child abuse vibes, not from john god no but like, Tavros seems so expectant of something to happen and that’s not pairing well with what Gamzee has apparently been doing

“Tavros sighs, his facial expression unchanging. He looks resigned. To life in general, as well as whatever it is he’s expecting from this particular situation. Wait... what is he expecting from this situation, having been led away to a secluded part of the house by an adult? What has he been taught to expect?“

I don’t like this. John please kidnap the child. Even though it’s going to start a war.

No I don’t like where this is going this is getting a big gigantic NOPE for me

Oh fuck okay, so it hasn’t happened yet, big relief there

but almost, still warning sirens going off in my head because

“JOHN: TRAIN you???

TAVROS: Yes,

TAVROS: In matters of combat,,, philosophy,,, life,,, love,,,

TAVROS: I suppose to behave the way a mentor does, as he sees it,,,”

WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT GAMZEE BEING A DIRK GAUGE

Is “Combat, Philosophy, Life, Love” just like symbolism for the four shitty ingredients of Lord English symbolically mixed together? Like yeah they don’t all sound bad when you put it that way but really it’s like

Combat = Physical Abuse = Caliborn

Philosophy = Religious Cult = Gamzee

Love = Obsession = Equius

Life = Dominance and Power = Dirk

Every shitty part of the LE soul combo contributes something bad to the whole

uh oh, they’ve been found out by Jade

Jade’s not exactly gonna throw him to the big bad wolf, but is she just gonna disagree with his actions? Or is she gonna try to stop him.

or argue? argue’s good, sure, not really but sure

Everyone knows Jane’s gone to shit, but everyone’s too cowardly to stand up to her and tell her she’s wrong

oh shit, speaking of

oh, well, that didn’t go how i wanted it to

John got so close to saying something that could break through to Jane, but Karkat was right, she couldn’t get her head out of her ass long enough to listen to what was being said to her, and instead immediately jump to conclusions about what she thinks people are talking about

she probably think everyone hates her suddenly because of her political ideas and thinks its ridiculous thats everyones getting so mad at her for it, head so far up the ass she should be turning into a fourth dimensional pretzel by now

even though this could have all have been avoided if someone just had enough bravery to nip it in the bud, so instead of angry raze the ground retaliatory action she could have just been embarassed and angry in the personal and then gotten over it in a few weeks

but nope, genocidal war in the works now

oof

just big oof

gotta say though, I’m sitting practically eating gigantic mounds of popcorn at the drama (Besides the one part that was implying gamzee was sexually abusing tavros before they made it clear he wasn’t, I could do without that one honestly)

other than that though, loving the drama, feel bad for the people getting the shit end of the sticks though

#Homestuck #Meat or Candy

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lady-divine-writes · 5 years ago

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Kurtbastian one-shot - “Blaine Anderson 2.0″ (Rated PG13)

Summary: Blaine Anderson is getting a start on his brand new life with the help of Kurt, and surprisingly, Sebastian, too. (1509 words)

Notes: Takes place after 'The Emancipation of Blaine Anderson'. Warning for Blaine friendly.

Part 60 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3.

“So, what’s the plan, Stan?” Sebastian asks, sitting down at the breakfast table with his boyfriend and his new boarder, Blaine. He watches the boy sitting primly on the opposite end of the table, tucking into a plate of scrambled eggs with a fork and knife, which offends Sebastian on principle. There’s a part of Sebastian – a small part, mind you - that still thinks he’s insane for offering the boy who is clearly in love with his boyfriend (and who also happens to be perfect for him, in Sebastian’s opinion) a room at his house. But he wouldn’t go back on his decision even if he could. For one thing, inviting Blaine to stay with him was the human thing to do, and he’s been trying to act more like a human and less like a walking turd ever since he and Kurt got together. Plus, Blaine’s not a bad guy. It kills Sebastian to admit it but, in a different universe, he could see himself crushing on Blaine.

A little.

Not all that much.

Like if Sebastian happened to have the flu with a high ass fever and he was hallucinating, and Blaine was around, then he might think Blaine was cute.

But only then.

Besides, the moony eyes Kurt makes at Sebastian are more than worth the aggravation.

Like now, when Kurt is staring at him all lovesick, serving him pancakes from the platter in the middle of the table – pancakes Kurt made special to celebrate Blaine’s first breakfast at Sebastian’s house, but which he added chocolate chips to because he knows those are Sebastian’s favorite.

Oh yeah, Sebastian thinks, leaning over for a kiss on the cheek. He could get use to this.

“Well, I wanna go get some new clothes,” Blaine says, passing over a plate of bacon after helping himself to a slice. “Something a little more me.”

“Ooo! Shopping trip!” Kurt passes the bacon to Sebastian and blows him another kiss. “I’m definitely down for that.”

“Also, I want to buy a new car.”

Sebastian’s head snaps in Blaine’s direction, more interested in this development than Kurt thinks he should be. “You’re getting rid of the Mustang?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking of trading it in and buying a Prius. They’re way more environmentally friendly considering all the traveling I do. The last competition I did in Pennsylvania was a killer fuel wise. I can’t imagine the damage I’m doing to the environment every time I fill it up.”

“How much do you think you could get for it as a trade-in?”

Kurt’s eyes pop between his boyfriend and Blaine, curious as to why this matters to Sebastian so much.

“Not as much as I want, honestly. It’s a classic, completely rebuilt from the bottom up. My dad and I …” Blaine pauses, toying with his slice of bacon, tearing it slowly while he chews over the memory “… we did the work ourselves. But I don’t want to take the time selling it. Not in this economy. It’ll probably be sitting on Auto Trader forever.”

“My dad might be able to help you …” Kurt begins, sympathizing with his friend, but Sebastian leaps over him with his own offer.

“Let me take it off your hands.”

Both Blaine and Kurt shoot looks his way.

“Are you serious?” Blaine asks.

“Yeah.”

“But, didn’t your uncle just buy you that Audi?”

“Yeah, but it’s too new for someone who just got their license. I keep worrying about scratching it up and shit. Besides …” Sebastian bites his lower lip. He knows the next words out of his mouth might shut down Kurt’s moony eyes for a while, but he can’t help it. It’s too good. Plus, he’s not wrong “… Kurt likes your Mustang.”

Blaine straightens in surprise, turning to his friend who’s suddenly gone pale. “You do?” he says in a voice that makes Sebastian think that revelation may have lost him the car.

“Wh---what?” Kurt stares at them, eyes darting back and forth between the two, cheeks burning. “No. I … I didn’t say …”

“Sure you did,” Sebastian continues with a devious smirk. “You can admit it. We’re all friends here.”

“I … I may have mentioned that I admired it,” Kurt backtracks, looking at Blaine, begging him with his eyes to believe him, not his boyfriend. “You know, from a mechanic’s standpoint. It’s an exceptional piece of American craftsmanship.”

“Kurt, you said that car was so sexy that if it were a guy you would …”

“Sebastian!”

Blaine turns his head and laughs at Kurt’s indignant squeak, and even though Kurt glares Sebastian down as if he’s about to leap over the table and throttle him, cancel every scheduled make-out they have from now till next year, Sebastian has the audacity to wink at him.

“So, whaddya say, Blaine? I’ll give you whatever you think is fair. Cash.”

Blaine smiles, catching a hint of Sebastian’s smug ‘tude, only mildly disappointed about the deal he’s about to make. “I’d say you’ve bought yourself a car.”

“Great!” Sebastian digs into his delightful smelling pancakes with a shit eating grin. “And Kurt?”

Kurt stabs at his food, demolishing his pancakes until they’re unrecognizable. “Yeah?”

“You’re welcome.”

***

“Are you guys almost done in there? It’s been over two hours!” Sebastian flails in his overstuffed chair, making a scene in front of two moms waiting for their sons to come out.

“Stop your complaining!” Kurt calls. “Overhauling one’s life can be a lengthy and exhaustive process. It should not be rushed.”

“How much more lengthy!? I’m so hungry, my stomach’s about to recede!”

“You just polished off three pretzel dogs and a trough of lemonade!”

“Kurt, I am an elite athlete! I burn two thousand calories sitting and breathing. Three pretzel dogs isn’t going to satisfy me!”

“But complaining obviously does. Sit tight. He’s trying on his last outfit.”

Sebastian breathes in deep then groans unhappily into the air, unfazed by the glares aimed in his direction. This is revenge, he thinks, for what he said over breakfast. Sebastian doesn’t feel sorry for that, though. He was right. Even with daggers in his eyes, Kurt took a good long look at Blaine’s Mustang parked in Sebastian’s garage before they left, running his fingertips lightly over the hood, supremely focused on its leather back seat.

Yup.

Sebastian definitely made one hell of an investment taking that car off Blaine’s hands.

But as images of Sebastian and his half-naked boyfriend making out in that car run through his brain, another thought makes him jerk upright.

“Wait … Kurt? He’s not changing his entire look, is he?”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s not trying on new chonies with you in there, is he?”

“If you don’t sit still and keep quiet, I won’t tell you,” Kurt sings.

Sebastian seethes. “That’s not a no.”

“It’s not a yes either. Now hold on to your socks. I present for your consideration the new, not improved, Blaine Anderson!”

Kurt opens the door to the dressing room and hops out, gesturing dramatically inside like a ring master presenting an exciting circus act. Slowly, shyly, Blaine walks out, eyes trained on his hands as he smooths down his shirt, straightening seams that don’t need to be straightened. He looks happy, yet slightly insecure, and Sebastian, certain his boyfriend strong-armed him into this decision, shakes his head.

“Kurt! Christ! Couldn’t you let the man dress himself?”

“I did!” Kurt’s hands find his hips and lock on in a defiant pose. “I didn’t pick out a single thing except the bowtie, and that’s only because he asked me to!”

Sebastian looks Blaine over again from head to toe. Gone is the leather jacket, the white t-shirt with the dress shirt over it, the torn jeans, and the combat boots. Instead, the boy standing in front of him is wearing a pair of crisp, khaki slacks; a short sleeve button down; a sweater vest; a bowtie; boat shoes; and an off-white fedora.

Sebastian doesn’t want to say it, but he’s dressed a lot like the last picture Sebastian saw of his grandfather playing bocce ball a week before he died.

Kurt doesn’t dress this way, but he’s tried to get Sebastian to … politely suggesting during a few of their online shopping excursions that khaki slacks in this particular cut or boat shoes might suit him. And here Blaine comes, out of the blue, and dresses himself with no prompting like a page out of Kurt’s style journal.

“This” - Sebastian gestures at him in disgust - “is your style?”

“Yup. Always has been.” Blaine beams at Kurt, that nugget of insecurity evaporating inside his smile. “God! It feels good to finally wear what I want for once!”

“Oh dear God!” Sebastian covers his eyes and slinks down in his chair. Just when he thought Blaine Anderson couldn’t get any worse - as in any more perfect for Kurt - he pulls this.

Dammit!

That Mustang better be worth the money he spent!

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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The Good Place - ‘The Book of Dougs’ Review

By Lamounier

"We're four Oreos from heaven."

It turns out the Soul Squad landed on a side sector of the Good Place, just not the main area.

And that was enough to make Eleanor super anxious. How can you be this close to heaven and not make it? After all they have been through (and she just remembers a tiny portion of it), it's understandable that all she wants is just to rest in peace.

But there is more going on in Eleanor's mind, and it's brought to the surface when Chidi tries to cheer her up (by dressing up as a mailman and looking damn fine) and she bursts into tears. Because she has never been this happy and she fears it will go away. Eleanor never had a meaningful, lasting connection with anyone in her lifetime like the one she has with the members of the Soul Squad, especially with Chidi. She freaked out earlier in the season over the possibility of losing them, and her insecurity pops out here again. But as Chidi tells her, she should focus on the now. I love that quote by Tolstoy because it's so truthful. The past can't be changed and it's naive to think that we can assure the future will be a certain way. We never know what's coming next, and best we can do is live the now, the only time we have any power over. Eleanor gets the message, and since she can't guarantee she will be with Chidi forever, she decides they better off consume their love while they can. And so they hit the sheets.

Another character who has trouble dealing with her emotions is Janet, and it happens after she learns that Jason and Tahani discovered she has feelings for him. She's still exhausted from keeping the four humans inside her void and doesn't want to deal with emotions while pretending to be a Neutral Janet. I loved Tahani trying to take care of the situation, particularly her misguided attempt to end her marriage with Jason. Her certificate was adorable, albeit incorrect. I mean, death literally didn't part them, in fact, it brought them together in the first place, but, okay, that second part she doesn't remember.

I liked the resolution to that subplot, which focused more on the ladies and less on the man in the middle, and I also liked how the three of them just ended up group-crying, no matter how silly Jason's inclusion in the moment was. These people can keep being rebooted and they'll still grow the strongest ties to one another. Although, since we are talking about it, this season better not end on another reboot.

While the humans and Janet worked their issues, Michael continued his journey to save humanity and it was a rather frustrating experience since the Useless Committee of Uselessness did nothing to help him. I mean, 1,400 years to select and align an investigative team? I know the writers were poking fun at endless bureaucracy and supposedly good people that just sit around and do nothing useful, but come on. There you have a demon trying his hardest to save humanity against a bunch of self-proclaimed good guys who do nothing more than pass memorandum to each other saying how concerned they are (that was totally a jab at social media activists, right?). Are those guys just that clueless or are they not really good to begin with?

In any case, Michael realizes through a quick chat with Tahani that the Bad Place isn't tampering with the points system, but in reality the world has become so complex and people so interconnected that being a good person became harder. Buying your grandmother roses would earn a few points 500 years ago, but now it will actually lose you some points, because such an action will indirectly condone pollution of the planet and slavery.

Okay, so, I want to nitpick this a little bit. First, even though we are very connected now, there are still a few groups who are largely disconnected or completely isolated. I understand that the writers of The Good Place live in the super connected side of humanity, but that's not how it is for everyone. However, this is a fantasy show and I can let that issue slide if I assume that in the world of The Good Place everyone is connected, no exceptions. My biggest problem with the logic behind Michael's realization, though, is that our stand against slavery, for instance, is rather new. 500 years ago, slavery was normalized and voices against it were dissonant noises, not the choir. So if today the biggest problem for humanity is how complex the world has become, back then it would be the lack of a more consolidated notion of human rights. In both eras, though, I can see a handful of people making it to the Good Place.

But, again, this is a fantasy show and I'm probably being too dense, because, leaving logic aside, I was rather fascinated by the concept of how far the ramifications of our actions should be taken into our account. People become vegan when they stop and think about how much their eating habits contribute to the abuse of animals. I have a colleague at work who is a vegetarian, so not really a vegan, but he told me he has a few rules, such as buying the most expensive eggs (according to him, the cheaper the egg, the more the chicken suffered). But he'd still be totally forked in the points system, because transportation of the eggs probably polluted atmosphere and so on. We have been speculating for a while the likelihood of the points system setting the bar too high, and now we have proof that's exactly what it does. However, in our real world, should we put our actions under the microscope? Are we to blame for the unintended consequences of our good deeds? I love how this show keeps asking some really interesting moral questions as it takes us along the ride.

Favorite Things/Smells

Eleanor: Typhoon Falls, her favorite water park. "Chlorine, suntan lotion, Band-Aids and a thick cloud of teen hormones."

Chidi: either warm pretzels or the smell of absolute moral truth. They do smell alike, Janet confirmed.

Jason: Black Bortles holding the Super Bowl MVP trophy. Also, weed.

Tahani: a curtain closing between first class and economy.

Doorman: frogs, obviously.

Bonus: Eleanor's tears tasted like the nacho cheese from her favorite movie theater.

Too bad we didn't learn what Janet's and Michael's favorite things/smells were. Janet's would certainly have something to do with Jason.

Other Bits

- There is only one door for humans to enter the Good Place, the official entrance.

- Everything Eleanor used to try to unlock the other door to the Good Place turned to glitter.

- Jason spoke of the time they were in Janet's void as if it had been ages ago.

- Janet worried that her emotions would come out of her butt.

- Michael's jawline is indeed great.

- I'm usually annoyed at characters who are too naive, but Gwendolyn was adorable.

- The note on the champagne Eleanor and Chidi opened said: "Gwendolyn, here's some champagne for you for thanking me for thanking you for thanking me for thanking you for thanking me for the champagne you sent me." I wonder how many champagne bottles Gwendolyn and the writer of that note gave one another.

- Was it me or Jameela's delivery of "but we really didn't deal with my thing" was very Buffy-esque?

- Next stop: IHOP, Interdimensional Hole of Pancakes.

Quotes

Tahani: "Are you sure we're in the actual Good Place? It's rather carpeted."

Jason: "What kind of messed-up place would turn away refugees?"

Tahani: "Jason, you seem thoughtful. And that concerns me."

Jason: "It's nice to know I can talk about girls with my wife."

Chidi: "It's like when my parents would go to a symposium and I would sneak into their office and read the unabridged dictionary." Eleanor: "I can't believe I'm attracted to you."

Chidi: "Is this a horny cry?"

Chidi: "There is a quote I like by Tolstoy. 'There is only one time that is important. Now. It is the only time when we have any power.'" Eleanor: "I know that quote. An unverified Tyra Banks account posted that meme on Instagram." Chidi: "Well, now I hate it."

Michael: "The Titanic is sinking, and they're writing a strongly-worded letter to the iceberg."

Tahani: "There are so many unintended consequences to well-intentioned actions. It feels like a game you can't win."

Janet: "Why are you crying?" Tahani: "I don't know. I'm British, I never cry."

It's so unfair that there are only two more episodes left this season. Three out of four closed doors to heaven.

#The Good Place #Eleanor Shellstrop #Chidi Anagonye #Tahani Al-Jamil #Jason Mendoza #The Good Place Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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darth-salem-emperor-of-earth · 6 years ago

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Day One: A Bounty For Two [Aram x Regan]

Yeah, I’m horribly late with my first entry of ockiss18/OC Kiss Week. My full time job and plans with friends and my boyfriend make typing up the ficlet harder to do. I almost had this one done Friday night but it was getting late and I needed sleep for work. :/

But here is Day 1 for ockiss18, featuring my SWTOR bounty hunter Regan Sedae and @gaiden1974‘s smuggler Aram Dakarii. Enjoy!

This fucking bounty better be worth it.

The crate was bumped and jostled about, causing her head to collide with the solid wooden walls while her horns scraped the lid. Her limbs ached from being twisted around in an uncomfortable position for so long. Why she agreed to this hare-brained scheme was beyond Regan, especially since there had to have been an easier way to smuggle her into the target’s private estates. But the smuggler she contacted days ago who knew the layout of the target’s fortified manor as well as security system, suggested she had to be concealed within in the cargo, for she’d be recognized as one of the Imperial’s fear bounty hunters on sight alone.

“After all, there aren’t too many over six feet tall, female Zabrak bounty hunters in the galaxy,” the smuggler, Aram Dakarii, had explained, a cheeky grin forming upon his lips while his eyes were alight with humor. “No offense.”

“None taken. Then if I can’t be seen until I enter the compound, what do you propose?”

The smile widen. “How flexible are you?”

Stupid, fucking smug bastard probably had a bigger crate and neglected to mention it. I swear, if we’re not almost at our destination, I’m bursting out of this like an irate Jack-in-the-Box.

Normally, Regan kept her cool and practical mindset for long periods of time (unlike her older sister, Goneril, who was impatient and loathed to be kept waiting), but being contorted into a pretzel knot followed by constant, gracelessly maneuverings were doing no wonders to improve her already sour mood. At the end of this assignment, she was heading to a spa.

In the midst of her internal grumblings, the lid to the crate opened and instinctively, Regan brandished her blaster up into the face of a startled but amused Aram Dakarri.

“Whoa! It’s me, Aram! No need to blast me in the face, especially since I helped sneak you into the esteemed, snooty Nastalia Argoria’s wine cellar. For drinks, she sure has some fine taste.”

“We’ll take a few of them for our troubles,” Regan answered as she awkwardly and stiffly climbed out of the box. “And was smuggling me like this really necessary? Couldn’t you have utilized a longer or larger crate?”

He shrugged. “Then I’d have to use a coffin. And try explaining to Nastalia’s many guards why the delivery boy has a dead body ready for burial in his supply vehicle.”

Regan sighed, stretching out her sore arms and legs. “Point taken. Now, down to business. Show me the layout of this entire mansion and the grounds. We only have one shot at this.” She set a holo on top of the crate she was previously in and a basic blueprint of the luxurious house in question was projected--courtesy of her smuggler-in-crime when they first agreed to work together to take down Nastalia Argoria and split the bounty. He didn’t care about why the Imperial Empire wanted this businesswoman dead (the Empire was never keen on people stealing data from their top secret projects or housing traitors), he wasn’t into sides or allegiances, or the politics between the Empire and the Republic. His loyalty to her and this mission could be bought with a multitude of credits and an honorbound contract he’ll refuse to break, eve if Nastalia herself attempted to bribe him. That notion was rather comforting, given to how rare it was for someone who didn’t fight for either side to stay true to a hired job. Aram’s honor made her mission easier, for the Zabrak fathomed Aram wasn’t the type to stab her in the back. The front maybe, but never the back.

“Security is tight along these floors--” he gestured to the bottom, third, and top floor-- “but the servants are too preoccupied with preparations for the banquet tonight to care enough to keep a vigilant watch for any unwelcomed guests. We might be able to sneak along unnoticed but that could be risky. And I’m not sure where Lady Fancypants is holed up.”

“I have a hunch. Yet first, we’ll need to disguise ourselves so we can move around the manor freely.”

And that was how the two of them ended up procuring everyday clothes from the laundry room and posed as the head caters for tonight’s banquet. Somehow, there managed to be clothes that fit Regan and she found a schick, colorful silk scarf to drap around her head and partly cover her mouth to hide most of her Zabrak tattoos and the twin crescent scars on her mouth. Her blaster was hidden amongst her loose blouse and pants while Aram concealed his around inside his boot. The security guards hassled them only briefly and then let them through to the next hallway once they announced they were the caters Miss Nastalia hired and they needed to discuss business as well as good arrangements.

Just as Regan suspected, her target was in her room, finalizing her outfit and appearance for tonight.

“Are you going to shoot her the moment she admits us into her chambers?” whispered Aram as they briskly strolling down the halls. “That’s going to cause some ruckus and attention that ends with us getting chased and shot at. Have any escape plans?”

Despite herself, she grinned at his queries. “That’s a ‘yes’ to the latter.” Without offering any explanations, she knocked on the door, only waiting for about ten seconds prior to an airy, bored voice beckoned them in.

“Finally, there are some people in the business of arriving early,” droned out Nastalia Argoria as she applied blush to her face, motioning for the two of them to sit. “Everyone else is lagging behind and I fear the florist and decorator will rush their work since they won’t be here until twenty minutes after the agreed time.”

“What a pity,” Aram responded with feigned sympathy as he and Regan quietly retrieved their pistols.

“Some people cannot comprehend time management,” added Regan, continuing the act as she narrowed her paralysis dart on the unsuspecting woman. “Or the consequences in crossing the Empire.” The dart flew from her gauntlet and embedded itself into the woman’s back. Her target dropped like a fly and Regan approached her as Aram stood guard at the door.

“Scream and I’ll shoot,” she ordered. The socialiste whimpered. The dart paralyzed her body but her tongue could still wag. “Where are you housing the Imperial traitor and data you stole?”

“I-I don’t know!” stammered out the no longer bored, annoyed businesswoman. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“They always don’t,” mused Aram out loud as he crossed his arms and smirked at the scene unfolding before him.

“I don’t have to listen to you lie with every breath you take,” growled Regan, smacking Nastalia across the face with the end of her blaster. Her pained cry startled Aram for a second or two but he said nothing, not appearing like he cared enough to interfere with her methods. After all, he still wanted half of that bounty prize.

Her target continued to whimper as an ugly, dark bruise began to form and Regan rolled her eyes at Nastalia’s antics--her acting fooled no one. Just when she was about to push her again, the Zabrak bounty hunter heard the sound of jumping and Aram firing off his blaster. She lept and then rolled away, aiming her blaster at the intruder who came from the bedroom. One look at the new woman’s face, a human sporting a tight bun and pursed, thin lips, confirmed the bounty hunter this was the traitor she was hired to kill. Aram was distracting her long enough for Regan to get a decent shot in, her finger squeezing the trigger with ease. Both her and his blaster fired at the same time--her hit got the traitor in the temple while his shot struck her shot. The traitor latently sank to the ground, head first into the carpet. Nastalia sighed in exasperation.

“How useless…” she grumbled. “So now that you killed your traitor, can you please cease this abhorrent interrogation. I don’t have the data or whatever information you’re searching for.”

“Check the corpse and see if there is anything on her. If you find nothing, take a look in the bedroom.” ordered Regan, ignoring Nastalia’s words but watching how that woman’s eyes darted anxiously to the bedroom once more, like something precious was in there she needed to watch over.

“You know, I’d be more interested in checking out your bedroom,” Aram remarked drolly, sending her a wink when she rolled her eyes. Funny, usually she’d be scowling at people’s attempts to make a pass at her but Aram was tolerable. Not mention he was roguish and attractive for a human, particularly with that long jagged scar running down his features. A man with scars impressed her, for they told her small stories of his life and what battles he fought, molding him into a more experience man. She wondered if he had any more elsewhere on his body.

“That’s a conversation for another time, when we’re done with this assignment,” Regan chided, neither flirting back or discouraging his attempts. The Zabrak bounty hunter was still trying to figure this perplexing yet oddly charming smuggler out. Certainly they were allies now but anything could change once their partnership was at an end.

While Aram first searched the dead traitor and found nothing, he proceeded to the bedroom, Regan continued to observed the Nastalia lady and trained her blaster squarely on her forehead. The snobbish businesswoman wasn’t going to talk about the data she stole but she still was clearly in the mood to chat about anything else.

“I still cannot believe a pair of filthy, scruffy scumbags like you managed to trespass my premises and fool my guards! Clearly, I’ll have to change my security once this is over.”

A feral grin slowly spread itself across Regan’s black tattooed, scarred lips, allowing her stance to relax in a casual manner to throw her target off and let the fear sink in. “What makes you think you’ll be alive once I found what I came here for. I was given two bounties to settle, not one.”

Nastalia’s eyes widen at the implication and before she could holler for help, Regan jammed her scarf into her mouth and practically down her throat, relishing her victim’s twitching and garbled attempts at speech now she was properly gagged. “Aram, can you hurry it up? We don’t have all day!”

“Slow and steady wins the race, Regan. But lucky for us, I found where Miss Fancypants keeps her safe. Easy to crack.” The smuggler emerged from the bedroom, dangling a datapad between his thumb and forefinger. “Looks like we hit the jackpot, if this is the stolen data you sought.”

There was no mistaking the alarm flashing in the target’s eyes as he handed the datapad over to Regan, who smirked victoriously as she scrolled through the contents of the files. Each and every page was marked by Imperial scientists and military agents, and a few Sith. After all the trouble that went into infiltrating this estate, it was relief to have crucial Imperial information back in her hands and away from people like Nastalia Argoria to sell to the highest bidder amongst enemies of the Empire. And she couldn’t wait to spend credits on a much needed relaxation.

“This is definitely what we came here for,” Regan confirmed, pointing her blaster at the limp businesswoman, who was trying to scream with her gag right before she was shot point blank in the forehead. Silencing that schemer would send a clear message to everyone else who might plan to house traitors of the Empire who made off with Imperial secrets.

“That was quick,” remarked Aram, gesturing to the now dead Nastalia. “Is that how you usually operate?”

“When it’s necessary. I don’t want us to overstay our welcome because sooner or later, people are going to wonder why she hasn’t emerged from her chambers.” She tilted her head over at a nearby window. “And that’s our escape plan.”

Aram whipped his head from her to the window and back at her, his eyes widening so rapidly in shock that Regan could hardly resist to grin cheekily at his reaction. Now it was her turn to put him through an not ideal strategy!

“I’m not jumping out of that window, there is no way we’ll land without breaking any bones.”

She scoffed. “Who said anything about jumping? I’m a fucking bounty hunter, we have jetpacks.” For emphasises, she pulled the loose fitting blouse up over her head and yanked it away, revealing a set of advanced jetpacks strapped to her back. The smuggler let out a low whistle as he studied their getaway device.

“How the hell did I miss that before?”

“Because you were too busy staring at my ass to notice.”

Warm, rich laughter bubbled out of him at her ripostle. “Touche!” The chuckling then faded as he observed the jetpack once more. “I only see one. Are you going to carry me or do I have to hold on?” He didn’t bring up the possibility that she was leaving him behind, which hadn’t crossed her mind until now. Aram made a better friend and foe and besides, she was beginning to warm up to him.

“Just wrap your arms around me and hold tight--I’ll do the same. And don’t be startled when the jetpack roars to life.”

The smuggler appeared positively gleeful at her choice of words, his grin so wide and suggestive Regan almost craved to smack it off his face. Key word almost. “That’s more than I ever expected to share with you. The more I hoped for when all of this was over and done with was a kiss.”

She arched one incredulous eyebrow. “Really? Just a kiss?” came her dry respond as Aram followed her earlier instructions and gripped her back tight, his legs prepared to encircle themselves around her thighs. Their faces were now closer than they had ever been before and she noticed what a deep green his eyes were. They reminded her of the jungles of Dromund Kaas or the hills her and her sister Goneril ran around with their father when they were children. That was a memory she hadn’t pondered about for a long time.

“Well, I can’t be too greedy,” admitted Aram, still sporting that cheeky grin of his. “After all, we only have known one another for about a week and not everyone is willing to kiss something they just met, or even go further than that.”

As if on cue, her jetpack roared to life, the heat from the engines warming her rear and legs as she stepped towards the double balcony windows, lifting both her and Aram up high and over the stone sculpted balcony. With such incredible force and speed, they were able to leave the opulent, privately ensconced estate beyond in the matter of minutes, ignoring the passersby outside who stared up at them in absolute wonder and confusion. Her exit strategies were never quite subtle.

“We might have to blast our way to your ship,” she warned Aram through the blaring of the wind and her jetpack’s humming. “There is a chance Nastalia’s entries might realize something is wrong.”

“They’re not that clever to make the connections that soon. They will give her another hour and by then, we’ll be long gone.” At her inquiring look, he elaborated. “I may have stolen or broke in Miss Fancypants’s manor before. They will don’t know it was me.”

Regan Sedae wondered if those guards did not truly care about their now deed mistress or they really were that incompetent. Or Aram Dakarii was that good at his job

Due the strain on her jetpack of carrying two persons instead of just one, she was forced to land earlier than intended and they used speeders to return to the docking center to get back to Aram’s ship. What they did not plan out was for a customs officer blocking their passage and preventing them from leaving the planet with ease. They needed a cover story, one that wouldn’t provoke an avalanche of questions and suspicions.

“Oh, my boyfriend and I were just her for a little lover’s retreat!” Regan answered with a feigned sweet voice to the officer’s first query. Impulsively, she grabbed Aram’s face with both hands and kissed him fully on the lips, displaying the image of a passionate girlfriend who couldn’t get enough of her lover. While Aram didn’t expected the kiss at first, he was quick to join in and keep up the act. One of his hand snaked itself up her back while the other rested firmly on her left hip, their height differences making the impromptu kiss interesting to perform. His tongue teasingly forked itself across her slightly parted lips and in return, she let out a little moan against their kiss, refusing to let him outdo her in this charade of theirs. After a half of a minute of them kissing and trying to top each other in terms of intensifying their ploy, they broke away to face a very tired and annoyed customs officer.

“That’s great,” he replied sardonically. “And where are you two heading now?”

“Tatooine,” Aram answered swiftly. Tatooine was technically their destination to collect the bounty so at least, that reply was true. He then clasped his hand around Regan and brought her hand to his mouth, lingering over her knuckles in an airy, tender manner. “I cannot believe my vacation with my gorgeous honeybun is over.”

Her eyes flashed at the cheesy nickname. Two could play at that game. “Me neither, smoochie-poo. At least we’ll be alone and together on the ride back home.” As she spoke, she watched the officer out of the corner of her eye. The man looked entirely fed up with their overt display of affection. Perfect!

“Take your kissing party inside your ship. Safe travels.” grumbled out the customs officer and waved them through.

Once they boarded his ship and could relax, Regan placed both hands on her hips and cut him an incredulous, ill humored glance. “Honeybun? Really?”

“Don’t look at me, you call me smoochie-poo! Mine was at least cute.” An impish glean sparked in his verdant eyes, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. “Would you instead prefer if I had called you sugar tits?”

The Zabrak tried to maintain a straight face yet failed, a snort escaping her restraints. “Do that and you’re a dead man, Aram.”

Chortling and then, a nod of understanding was his first response. “Fair enough.” And his lively verdant eyes were now full of mirth and intrigue. Compared to her first ride with him, the return ride would be much more comfortable and easier to enjoy.

But like hell would she get in a crate again to sneak into a target’s home again!

#ockiss18 #oc kiss week #ockissweek #Regan Sedae #Aram Dakarii #Regan #SWTOR #bounty hunter #smuggler #Zabrak #oc kissing week #ockissingweek

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exyjunkies · 6 years ago

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andreil being rlly domestic and not even noticing. like making food and drinks and getting shit out and putting shit away and tidying up all at the same time and like weaving around each other like it's second nature. working as a unit. it's dumb and gross they haven't even noticed. the foxes notice.

the one where the foxes notice - non-Exy edition[because hey, it’s always fun to imagine them in a non-Exy universe]

i. dan & matt

“Hi. Have you guys been waiting long?” Neil said, upon opening the door. Matt shook his head in reply, effectively getting some snow on the hood of Dan’s coat. Dan made it a point to send a glare back to Andrew, who turned around in favor of marching off towards the kitchen. “Please, come in. Dinner will be done in an hour.”

“Thanks. We’ll hang our coats.” Taking in the state of the apartment, Dan had to admit that she was impressed. She knew Neil and Andrew owned an apartment just around 5th, rent significantly downsized by their landlord, who enjoyed Andrew’s love and skill for art enough to allow him his own gallery just a few floors down.

She didn’t know (or expect) it was an apartment well-kept and made habitable by humans other than the both of them.

Matt gaped at the remote-controlled fireplace, pressing the buttons to make the flames roar up or flicker down. By the fireplace was a row of books, a shelf with framed photographs, and a jar labeled “Neil’s Percentage Jar” half-filled with change. Dan nudged his shoulder to make him quit (literally) playing with fire.

“Come on, Dan,” Matt insisted, flopping down on the couch and petting King, who had promptly decided he did not like Matt, and made a show of jumping off the couch and striding into the other room. “You got to admit it’s surprising that they have some pretty good digs.”

Dan shrugged. “They probably aren’t the same people we knew back in high school. College changes things, y’know.”

“Your nosiness hasn’t changed though, has it, Boyd?” Andrew piped up, as he walked into the living room with a plate of cookies. He set it down on the coffee table and picked up Sir Fat Cat, who was pawing at something on their brown carpet. Dan stared at Andrew’s sweater, long enough for Andrew to pick up on it.

He sighed. “Yeah, Neil had matching sweaters knit for the both of us,” Andrew mumbled. Both were fox-print sweaters, with Neil’s in fall colors and Andrew’s in black-and-white. “It’s tacky, but it keeps out the cold efficiently enough.”

Matt stood there, blinking, while Dan tried to say something, but failed after only opening her mouth. Andrew, in favor of ignoring them, had decided to sit down and feed Sir Fat Cat a piece of his snickerdoodle.

From the kitchen came Neil’s voice. “Matt? Marshmallows in your hot chocolate, right?”

“I– oh, uh, yes, please, lots of marshmallows, thanks Neil,” Matt fumbled, swallowing and turning his attention back to the pictures by the fireplace.

Dan heard Andrew’s scoff of amusement from his place in the armchair, and grinned despite herself.

ii. aaron and nicky

Aaron was picking at his mashed potatoes, pointedly ignoring Neil’s story of their trip to the Grand Canyon. Nicky nudged him while taking a sip of his wine and nodding. “And then? What happened?”

“Well,” Andrew cut in, knife slicing through his own medium-rare steak. “Turns out we didn’t have enough gas to get back home, so we drove to the nearest bed-and-breakfast, which had a gas station nearby. And– uh, Neil, can you pass me the greens?”

“Oh, sure,” Neil passed the bowl over to Andrew. Nicky eyed this gesture suspiciously. What the fuck was happening here?

He looked at Aaron as if to say exactly that, and Aaron made a face back saying Well, I told you they were gonna act weird.

“And then,” Andrew drawled on, dumping greens on his plate, “We end up sharing one order of their breakfast special, because their servings in that diner were massive.”

“To be fair, we did have big burgers for lunch,” Neil supplied, patting Andrew’s arm lightly. Andrew rolled his eyes.

“Is that so,” Nicky said, dumbfounded. Subtle gestures of affection being accepted and welcomed by Andrew? Were they having dinner in another dimension?

Andrew stood up to grab another beer from the fridge. “If anything, that breakfast special was enough for dinner and breakfast. I don’t know how Americans live with themselves, honestly.”

Neil nodded. “Would actually drive all the way back there with the rest of the group, if you guys want to. I’ll call Dan tomorrow.”

As Nicky’s fork was halfway to his mouth, Aaron quipped, “Will we see more of… whatever you guys are doing?”

As if on cue, Andrew and Neil both said, “Doing what?”

Nicky facepalmed and made a sideways face at Aaron.

“We just…” Nicky trailed off, unable to explain as Andrew spooned more gravy onto Neil’s mashed potatoes. “Ugh. Never mind.”

iii. renee and allison

“We’ll pick the movie this time, is that cool with you boys?” Allison said, one hand on her hip, the other holding a bunch of DVDs. She stood there, staring at their DVD player and figuring out how to work the controls.

Andrew walked into the room and yawned. He waved his hand off in his approval.

“Renee, babe, you good with Freaky Friday? That’s always a banger.”

“Of course.” Renee replied, munching on a pretzel and leaning back into her bean bag.

“Okay, Neil and Monster, you are both about to have the best time with the best queer couple you know,” Allison declared. She turned around and caught Andrew draping a blanket over Neil’s shoulders.

“Thank you, Andrew,” Neil smiled gratefully, moving to make space for Andrew.

“Oh my–” Renee began to react, but Allison shushed her.

All Andrew did, much to both their disappointment, was to lie down on the remainder of the couch and plop his head down unceremoniously on Neil’s lap.

After a few seconds of silence loud enough for all four of them to notice, Andrew turned to glare at Allison. “Problem, Reynolds?”

“Yeah, man, what the fuck is happening?” Allison shot back, gesturing at the way Neil was playing with Andrew’s hair. Renee stood up to put the DVD in and load the movie.

“Uh, well, in case you haven’t noticed, Allison, we’ve been together for around, what, five years now?” Neil replied, draping his left arm across Andrew’s arm and rubbing his eye with his other arm.

“No, it’s just. The entire couple act. Weird. Never seen it before. Ever.” Even when Renee told her bits and pieces about her visits, she found it weird to even listen.

Andrew made a seriously face and sighed. “Well, we’re not about to change the way we are just because you’re not used to it. Take it or leave it, Allison.”

Allison gaped for a split second before grinning widely. Just because she found it weird doesn’t mean she disapproved.

“Couple to act less gay drives to get all of us breakfast the next day!” Allison declared, placing herself on the carpet and gesturing for Renee to sit on her lap. Renee laughed and waved her off, while Neil made a grab for Andrew’s fingers and played with them absentmindedly.

(The next day saw Renee dragging a grumpy Allison out of bed to drive to the nearest diner.)

#andreil #andrew minyard #neil josten #all for the game #thetfcnet #myfic #aftg fic #anonymous #answered #hi i'm back for a bit before school takes over again hahahaha #this is to celebrate my acceptance into tfc net!!! SORRY FOR BEING LATE BTW #sorry this is majorly half-assed lol

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gabriellapatterson-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

Birthday First Date

A/N: Altivo doesn’t like being ignored. Thanks @wyattschreave for the rp! Also there’s another authors note at the end because I didn’t wanna give something away but it’s funny! Also the first picture is for the romance, 2nd is humor/realism. BEcause Altivo is there which they seem to forget about +shes small so tiptoes even with him hunched over

Breakfast had been pretty fun for me. I couldn’t help but side glance at Wyatt every few minutes. I just felt so happy. He was my boyfriend now and he was right there and we were eating breakfast together and it was my birthday! I kept twirling my hair as we made light conversation as we normally would have.

I walked back from breakfast happy after having gotten to see Wyatt while we ate. I was so thankful that my seat had just happened to be right next to Wyatt's.

My eyebrows furrowed as I saw a small box in my room on my bed. Who could that be from? I grinned hoping it was Wyatt and saw it was from Ben.

I was confused. Why would Ben give me anything? I mean it was my birthday but he was awfully busy and I wasn’t even competing for him anymore.

I opened up the box and saw a note that looked exactly like the one from the penguin meme. Oh, so that was a hint. My smile returned as I knew it was from Wyatt now. He was being sneaky with our super secret relationship. No one knew. Just us two.

“yOU BETTER HAVE NOT EXPECTED IT TO BE FROM BEN. that would be a pretzel affair. I couldn't really get you anything interesting at midnight but I figured I might as well make something that would get you to laugh. happy birthday, cupcake"

I chuckled and plopped down onto my bed and looking through the pictures in the box. There were the pictures from when my family came and one of my staring at the napkin cocoon with an intense hatred.

I smiled as I saw the pictures for the first time. It was funny to remember my thoughts and moods while they had been taken and to see them there.

Like my annoyance at my dad poking fun at me for telling Wyatt about my cupcake phase which had become his nickname for me. I had been annoyed when he started using it. I knew it was meant to annoy me and he had succeeded. But as time had progressed it grew on me. Now I found it sweet.

It reminded me of fun moments talking with him. And the day my subconscious decided I was too oblivious to notice I liked Wyatt on my own so it through a dream at me. Talking with Wyatt as he sat in a chair beside my bed. My ankle hurt so I couldn't stand up and my hip had stitches so I couldn’t really sit up. He had brought me toast. It was sweet how he had noticed I loved the toast in the morning.

In another photo I saw my fear as I tried to balance with books stacked on my head and one foot off the ground as Ellie had demanded. I was holding onto Wyatt’s hand tightly both because I didn’t want to fall and because I hadn’t had the chance to hold his hand before.

I hadn’t noticed he was smirking down at me from over his shoulder. If I had I’m sure I would have chewed him out. I laid back down in bed and looked over the picture. I think it’s my favorite. It just perfectly got how I felt, and I love seeing Wyatt’s face looking down at me. I couldn’t help but smile giddily and I set the photo down on my bedside table.

I flipped through more of the photos and got to a sea of photos of Mashed Potato.

“Amazing.” I mumbled looking at the adorable little chub chow dog.

Then there was another picture. This one though, was of Wyatt. He was much younger maybe ten to twelve. Making almost a duck face. He probably was just talking but it came out like one which made me snort a bit.

I considered going to see him but decided I should wait. Since he may be worried about us being caught even though I’m sure I could be 100% sneaky. OH CRAP HAZELS RIGHT NEXT TO WYATT. My face went red as I realized she probably had totally picked up on all my flirting during breakfast.

Okay so maybe I’m not the best at being sneaky. But I’m just not good at keeping things inside. I just feel so delighted that I want to act on it.

My face went red and I picked up my phone and told Emma everything. I mean it was Emma. I couldn’t not tell Emma and she wouldn't tell anyone. She could be very tight lipped, well with secrets not with Jonathan, apparently.

We talked on the phone for a long while since she was driving and hated driving in silence.

Finally, I had to leave my room again since it was lunch time. This time I tried to be a little less flirty but still ended up talking with him a bit more than we normally would have. Maybe Hazel’s bad at noticing things, like me?

After lunch I went back to my room and saw a note on the floor barely inside the room. I picked it up and read it was from Wyatt saying I should come visit him at the stables if I was bored.

There were still things I could do and girls to talk to before I was eliminated, but my heart jumped at the idea of seeing Wyatt again so soon. So I quickly rushed down to the stables.

My eyes had caught him before he had caught me, so I slowly crept up from behind him. Planning to surprise him with the aim of seeing if he had a girlish fear scream or not.

The horse he had been petting blew in his face putting his hair out of place, “We're out of apples, stop messing my hair up. I actually need it to look nice today.” I smiled thinking he may want to look nice for me since this could count as our first official date.

I got closer behind him before I yelled, “BOO!”

His reaction was underwhelming. Mission failed. I’ll have to try harder next time. Wyatt jumped and looked over his shoulder as the horse neighed which frightened me a bit. Then wyatt ran a hand through his messy hair and blinked, “Hey, so you were bored?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and pouted a little, “I was hoping for more of a yelp than a jump. And nope, I wasn't bored. I wanted to hang out with you.” I said then leaned a bit to the side to get a better look of the horse since Wyatt was in front of it and made eyes a little cautiously but also threateningly like I was establishing dominance.

“I'm not easily scared.” He then leaned down our faces close, causing me to blush. His eyes narrowed for a split second before he, while smiling smugly, poked both my cheeks, each with an index finger, “Nice chipmunk.”

I grabbed his fingers and then took his hands, pulling him down a little so I could reach better, then stood on my tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek, “I may be a chipmunk when I glare but you're a tomato with pink ears when you blush.”

His ears went pink to prove my point even further, “Well- you know, you can't just do stuff like that in public. Kinda dampers on this secret we're trying to uphold.”

Oh right secret! I looked around quickly but tried to keep my cool as there was no one around, “There's no one around so it's fine. It's only secret around other people. I bet you just want me to not fluster you so you don't get pink ears. Which just makes me want to more.” I added with a chuckle.

“Maybe,” He replied with a smile before we were very rudely interrupted ™.

Wyatt was pushed forward by the horse causing me to blush. Wyatt blinked down as he stared into my eyes and cleared his throat, “So um, that's Altivo.”

I would have stepped away since Wyatt was now extremely close to me but my attention had shifted to the horse, “He seems to want more attention. I take it he's named after the horse in Road to El Dorado? Or does he just fit the name?” I asked.

He finally pulled back just a bit, “Both. Both. Both is good.”

I burst out laughing at the reference to the historic line, “Good use.”

I then approached Altivo, my slight glare returning, “Hello, horse.”

“You already know his name.” Wyatt said before the horse got all up in my space and was way too close causing me to take a few steps back as it looked at me with those murderous eyes.

“I don't like horses thus they should be called horse. You'd be insulted if you were called human, right? It's an insult.”

Wyatt made a face attempting to belittle me even though I have highly legitimate reasons for my disliking. He then crossed his arms and spoke up, “He's just trying to say hello. No need to insult him.”

“He said hello in a rude way. Invading my personal space.”

“That's kind of how horses show affection. But if you don't want to he won't.” The horse then moved its snout over to Wyatt’s head as he stood haughtily like the horse, not uncrossing his arms, “See?”

“He has teeth, right?”

“Yes, just like you do.”

“Yes, but he's significantly more scary.” I replied before deciding to try again. I couldn't be a chicken. Not in front of Wyatt. So I tried to scoot a little closer to the horse but was ready to bolt at any sudden movements.

Wyatt took a step back from the horse resulting in Altivo’s attention to shift to me. He lowered his head to examine me with his creepy eyes, “It don’t bite.” Wyatt mumbled referencing the vine with the aggressive dog.

I stiffened as the horse got closer but turned my attention to Wyatt’s poor choice of words, “THE DOG FROM THAT VINE IS VERY AGGRESSIVE SO THAT'S A POOR CHOICE.”

Wyatt tilted his head, “I’m confused. What do you exactly think he’s going to do to you? He’s not going to bite you to see if you’re food. That’s exclusively shark behavior.”

“Don't be mean to the sharks, they're just confused. And I've seen the movies. Horses are always the ultimate traitors. It could do anything.”

“Such as....what exactly?”

“We have been over this. For example one left Anna to die and get hypothermia in frozen.”

“Right. But that’s only one example and you’re not riding him.”

“But it was an example of malicious intent.” I huffed and crossed my arms.

“Does he seem malicious?” Wyatt asked as the horse started to sniff my arm.

I thought for a moment, “.....no.” Then decided to try something and pat the horse.

The horse decided he hated me and pulled his head up and out of my reach, Wyatt chuckled a bit at my failure like the kindest boyfriend. “He likes it better when he can see you.” He explained. Oh. Then Wyatt grabbed my arm and moved me a bit more to the side so the horse could see better.

“Try again.”

I looked at the horse who looked back at me. He looks at me. And I look at him. And he looks at me. And I look at hIM.

“Oh right they have those weird side eyes. It's odd. Why not have eyes in the front? Isn't seeing what's in front of you more important?”

The horse lowered himself even further which just annoyed me. Even the horse has decided to get on the mocking my height bandwagon?

“I honestly wouldn’t want to see a horse with it’s eyes more in the middle than they already are. That would be kinda creepy. But they can see what’s in front of them by tilting their head slightly, so it’s not that hard. The way their eyes work is more beneficial for them.”

I stifled a laugh thinking about horses with eyes in the middle of their heads, “Yeah I hadn't put the image of that in my head. I feel a little insulted by how much he's lowered his head, but since horses are tall I've decided to let it go. So what does Altivo like to do?” I asked.

Wyatt laughed, “He’s trying to be nice! But as for what he likes to do... I’d say he enjoys being a show off though.”

I mumbled as I spoke to the horse, “Me too, Altivo, me too.”

I then turned to Wyatt, “Does he like grapes? I can't remember which of the horses Fee fed grapes too. I just stayed back and avoided eye contact with them and talked with her.”

Wyatt chuckled at that, “I’m sure she gave him some despite me saying not to. He’s kind of spoiled so I try not to add.. but I guess just so he likes you more I can make an exception.” He then walked off somewhere and came back with two apples, “Apples are better.” He explained then held one out to me. “He likes them more because he’s an asshole so eating apples is his aesthetic.”

I laughed at his eating apples= joke asshat, which made me think of cinemasins. I should check if they have a new video later. “He's very relatable. Does he eat the cores?” I asked referencing my rant on people eating apple cores.

Wyatt smirked and took a knife out to cut out a section of the apple, “Sometimes, but I don't let him do it often.”

“That's good. Makes him not a weirdo. The seeds probably have toxins and deathly things in them anyways.” I mumbled not fully knowing what I was talking about but I knew I had heard somewhere that the seeds were bad.

“Well, apple seeds are actually not as bad as people make them sound. Especially not to pets. The amount of cyanide within a few seeds is so minimal that it’s really not a concern. Too many apples a day isn't good though. Just like too many of anything isn't good.” Oh.

Suddenly, Altivo decided to bust in and go for the apple I hadn’t given him yet. I’M NOT READY TO STINGY HORSE. I SWEAR!

I huffed and backed up from the horse. Gotta wait for me to be ready. “I disagree. There are some things you can have as many as you want of in a day and it's fine. Like naps, showers, baths, conversations with you.” I finally replied.

Wyatt laughed and stood up to move closer to me, “I was mostly thinking of food rather than activities.”

“I'm glad you think that though.” He added.

I smiled and looked up at him, “Of course. Conversations with you are normally pretty fun as long as you don't decide to huff off and leave in the middle of it assuming I'll follow you. Though, now I probably would, but still my jab works.”

Wyatt gave me a crooked smile, “That was my mistake. I think I prefer dragging you places rather than expecting you to follow now. Otherwise it's no fun.”

“Ah yes, the much more sane version. Just grab the wrist and drag. Though, last night being dragged into a random room was an experience. Especially, because it was fun to see you look around in panic and being all flustered after calling you my boyfriend.” I added to which I got to see his face turn into a solid tomato red shade yet again.

“It was a reasonable response. We went from friends, to admitting things, to dating soon, to actually using titles in the same night, okay?” He said and looked away to hide his blush. I leaned forward a bit wanted to capture every moment I could of tomato Wyatt before he returned to normal.

“Well I mean. I think people don't usually just sit on it when people say they like each other. Like suzans like "hey um- carl, like you." carls like "like you too" then they're like "cool. So the weather?" I think its a normal thing to go straight from confessing to dating.” I explained.

“In case you haven’t noticed, my examples of romance have been selections, convenient political dating or engagements, and staff members that end up dating.”

“Hm I suppose your right. Though personally my only other experience is the selection and being asked for a pencil, I have seen Emma and Nina court people before.” I shrugged, “You can win that one from not knowing.”

He nodded, “My friends are mostly royals after all.” He then looked down to his apple, is it his or Altivos? I mean Altivo gets it in the end, but it is in his hands?

“Also, it’s not like circumstance is the easiest at the moment.” He said then looked back down to me sheepishly.

“I didn’t think you’d be so determined on what you want.” He added.

“Hah that'd be weird if I wasn't. I'm rarely indecisive on things. I also don't like half doing things which is why I'm normally pretty into what I like and pretty against what I don't. Such as I hate heels. A normal person would have lived with it, I chose to get rid of them via you. Another case is when I had acted like I didn't like you not because I couldn't decide what to do, but instead because I had decided you didn't like me and I wanted to stick to friendship in that case. So I commited and just lied occasionally to avoid it coming out. Though, that didn't really stick when I was drunk and of course the case changed when you said you did like me so I weighed pros and cons and decided that I wanted to give it a go. Sometimes I need some time to process things but normally I just go with my gut so making choices is easy and I prefer to go with them wholeheartedly.” I explained.

“I appreciate someone’s who’s decisive. People complicate everything for themselves way too often.” Altivo then decided that Wyatt’s hair needed to change so he huffed in it to mess it up.

“Thanks bud.” Wyatt said with a flat expression not looking at Altivo.

“He should be a hairstylist. Knew just what to fix.” I joked with a laugh.

“I don’t think so.” Wyatt said as he ran a hand through his hair. HOLY. IT'S SO FLUFFY. THAT'S NOT FAIR.

“I didn't get to fully mess with your hair when I fixed your helmet hair. It seems fluffy!” I said and walked up close to him. I stood on my tiptoes and put my elbows on his shoulders for support and smirked as I played with his hair with was even more fluffy than it looked. It was like a pom pom.

Wyatt laughed and bent his knees slightly, which I knew was to try and help me reach, but it just annoyed me. I don’t need his handicap. Then to make my frustration worse, he directly attacked me. “I do have great hair. It’s probably better than yours.”

I scoffed, “It is not. No one has hair better than mine. Its fabulous. Also I could actually destroy you right now so mocking me isn't nice. Like my elbows are on your shoulders, you have a weaker stance. I could knock you down if I wanted. You're lucky I'm mature and have self restraint.”

As I spoke Wyatt just seemed to get a wider and wider smile. Which just made me even more irritated. As I finished speaking he suddenly leaned down and melted away any annoyance in me by pressing his lips against mine.

My cheeks flushed and I was startled at first but quickly started to kiss him back, it was a soft kiss but slightly playful in nature having come from a silly argument. I felt like the butterflies in my stomach were losing their minds. They just got more ecstatic as I felt one of his arms go to hold me around my waist.

As the kiss ended there was a small part of me that was fearful. What if he said it? What if he said, “That was legitness?” Could I kill him there? I think that would be fine. It would be deserved. He better not quote a vine.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t destroy me.” He mumbled.

What? Why would I? Why would he think that I wou- oh right Anika.

“Oh I'm not planning on it.” I mumbled back a bit breathy feeling light headed from the sudden kiss.

I fidgeted with my hands as I tried to find words to make them come out of my mouth. I needed to say something to make him know how much I liked at but my head was still in a whirlwind.

Ben hadn’t taken my words and breath away like that before especially with a simple kiss so I took it as a sign that I had made the right choice. Not that I was concerned for a moment I had made the wrong one. But I was a little worried if it would be weird to kiss Wyatt after having kissed his brother before. But it wasn’t at all. To me it felt better than perfect.

“You're a good kisser. Also I'd prefer if you do not recite that that was legitness vine.” I said quickly stating my own fear.

Wyatt leaned his head back laughing but still keeping a hold on me, then looked back down to me, “I’m just glad this time you didn’t scream my name.” WhAT?

Tomato Wyatt back at it again, “I mean- that sounded bad. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Uh-what?” I verbalized.

He looked away completely embarassed, “I um, when- the day you got drunk-” He cleared his throat, “-I had a dream I kissed you as well the next morning. Since you woke me up with your screaming, really nice by the way, the first thing your dream doppelgänger did when I pulled away from the kiss was scream my name.”

I burst out laughing, “That explains why you were so panicked that morning! And it was my only choice you didn't wake up the first time I tried!”

“One is supposed to wake up relaxed. Calm and put together. Screaming in someone’s ear does not encourage either.” Uh no. One is supposed to wake up confused and in dread. We must have very different experiences in the morning.

“Well if you had woken up to maids looking weirdly at you as you slept on a bean bag I don't think you would have been calm or put together either.”

“Maybe I would’ve told them I wanted to mix things up.”

“Ah- and you think waking up right out of a dream where we had kissed you'd be able to seem perfectly calm and come up with a reasonable excuse? Plus no one wants to sleep on a bean bag. It's an unbelievable excuse.”

“How do you know?” He said and rested his chin on my head providing me with the delightful view of just his neck and chest, “I like being edgy.”

I stood up on my tiptoes to nudge him off of me, “You somehow become more of a bully as a boyfriend than you were as just a friend. Mocking me over my height.”

He laughed and pulled back, I felt more annoyed because I was a twinge upset that he pulled away. Him being so close was nice, it was almost a hug “Alright, if that bothers you…”

I leaned up again and gave him another kiss wanting more contact with him but not wanting to give in and let him mock me more by doing that again. After I pulled away I mumbled, “I didn't say it bothered me. Just that it was mocking.”

Wyatt was grinned down at me after my quick kiss, “Now that's just contradicting. Who likes to be mocked?”

“Shush. It has pros and cons. Con its mocking pro I like the contact. also pro you smell nice. 2 pros beat the 1 con.” I said being a little too honest causing me cheeks to flush.

“Nice to know I smell nice. Is it like-” He paused to adjust his voice into a dramatic ad one, “-dark temptation? Black eclipse? Black chill? Denim?”

I laughed and ran a hand through my hair, “Dark temptation for sure. I mean with all this sneaking secret stuff if has to be. Also how does denim smell?”

He shrugged, “Deodorants pick weird names. I'm not sure what they're trying to do there.”

“I bet I would be great at naming deodorants. I'm surprisingly good at picking weird names for things. I would call your smell Tall, towering and-” I dramatically waved a hand, “-tantalizing. Leave it to the consumers to figure out what that means.”

He raised his eyebrows, “I might need an explanation as well.” SMH boy can’t even guess his own name.

“Well, you're tall. You tower because you're tall, and tantalizing as in you like to tease i.e mock.”

He hummed, “I think that name is too long. Nobody would buy it. Also, it needs to be more edgy.” Fine. You want edgy. You get edgy. Also you say it’s too long, well, it’s about to get longer.

“Oh true. I was focusing too much on the alliteration of it. How about "I drive a motorcycle, don't you think that's cool? tell me its cool." that's a fitting name for your smell.”

He burst out laughing then leaned down to give me a quick kiss himself. My face flushed again at the contact. “You already called me a cool dork, so I don't need you to tell me.” He paused, “Just occasionally.”

“I can make a biweekly quota of times telling you you're a cool dork.” I mumbled still embarrassed from the kiss. It had thrown me off since I hadn’t seen it coming.

“Look who's flustered now.” He teased down at me.

“W-well you normally are flustered! Our ratio is like 100 to 1!” I yelled defensively ™.

Wyatt just grinned more, “I never feel this need you do to defend myself, however.”

“Of course I want to defend myself I'm being attacked! You just don't defend yourself because your a dummy who accepts insults most of the time.”

He rolled his eyes, “We already went over this. But I don’t defend myself because I don’t think it’s needed. Not with you at least.”

I huffed and crossed my arms. He had won. I couldn't think of some other reply to try and drag him. Then I got an idea and stood up on my tiptoes, I leaned up and wrapped my arms over his shoulders to pull him down close to me and pushed my lips against his, trying to fluster him again. My kiss being rough and competitive since I wanted to win this fluster debate.

Wyatt beat me though as he gently cupped my face which just made me fluster further. Once he pulled away he was not blushy and he looked down at me with a cocky grin, “Nice try.”

I had to hold back a smile myself as my endorphins wanted me to, but this was a battle, I couldn’t smile in battle. It was seRIOUS. So I pouted a little and lightly kicked some hay on the ground, “I'll catch you off guard later.”

Wyatt raised his chin with a smug grin, “I'm sure you won't give up.”

Altivo suddenly pushed Wyatt, making him drop his apple and eating it off of the ground, “No manners now.” Wyatt scoffed.

“He must get it from you. Though, I admit it was a good strategy. He got the apple in the end. I like this specific horse. He has flare.”

Wyatt gave me a flat look before the horse attacked my personal space sniffing now at the apple I still hadn’t given him. “Well, he is mine for a reason.” Wyatt muttered with a side glare at Altivo.

I took a few steps back from the horse, “Nope! Not getting that close to your mouth.” I then thought up a plan. I walked back up to the horse and put the apple down on the ground by where Wyatt’s had fallen to let Altivo get the apple himself.

Wyatt chuckled at my actions, “How brave.”

“I got him the apple, did I not? That's what matters. also I already touched him my horse quota has been met.”

“Fine. I’ll take that as progress. I assume you won’t be riding horses any time soon?”

“Or ever. Plus I've capped out this week on riding terrifying things after your death bike last night.”

“Oh, I know you thought it was nice. It lets you be a koala bear.” He called me out.

“Okay that part was nice. But the thinking about death part was not. To be fair I tried to be respectful at first and just hold onto your jacket or something. If you had gone maybe 5mph it would have worked.”

“Hey, you were the one that made me randomly leave the palace to help Kenna.” I rolled my eyes at his continued decision to not say her name correctly.

“Emma, and I only asked you could have said no to helping.”

He looked at Altivo, “I wasn't going to let you go out there alone.” He mumbled.

“You know, I've lived outside of the palace for 18, well 19 now years. I would have been fine on my own. But thanks for the consideration.”

He hummed and started listing, “It was late. You are a Selected, which means you stand out. There was a recent attack on the palace-” He paused frowning a bit, “in which you were hurt. Need I go on?”

“Fine.” I replied then pursed my lips as a sad thought came back. I would have to leave soon. We needed to start planning what we would do when I was eliminated. I hated to break our happy time with our first date but it needed to be said, “I won't be a selected much longer. We should think about what to do then. I imagine any day now it'll be time for me to go home.”

Wyatt took my hand had had me sit down in one of the small chairs used for the people to clean or brush the horses. He then grabbed another chair from a different area and spun it to face me and sat down himself, “So,” He said then leaned his chair back against the wooden wall, the horse on the other side looking down at Wyatt which cause me a moment of concern because what if the horse thought his hair was food, but he seemed to move on, “any ideas?”

“Hmm have I told you about the pantry plan before?” I asked joking a little.

He scoffed a laugh, “You did, but I think that won’t work too well.” The horse then started to sniff Wyatt more which caused me to stiffen a little. Wyatt, however, did not seem to care at all and just reached up to pet it his eyes still on the ground, “Maybe-” He sighed, “Maybe we need to wait a while.” Is he breaking up with me on my birthday on our first date?

“Like I go home and we try long distance? I don't like that idea if so so we should keep thinking.” I mumbled hoping that was his suggestion instead of a complete break.

He finally looked up to the horse who had been invading his space for awhile now, then he laughed a little as an idea came to his mind, “You could work at the palace.”

That’s a great idea! It fixes everything! Mom wouldn’t be mad because it’s not like I could risk being homeless. Palace workers have the option to stay which fixes the distance. “I could! I could find something to do and it'd be an excuse for me to stay.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Wait, I wasn't serious... I mean, not that it wouldn't work but... I doubt you want to work in the palace.”

“Why not? It could be fun, plus it's not like I know what I'm doing with my life outside of this anyways. Oh! Hazel really liked the chocolates that I made, I could just be her personal chocolate maker person.” I suggested.

He chuckled, “You mean a chocolatier? We don't have one of those, but you could be a pastry chef apprentice if you have some decent skills.”

I thought for a moment, I’m not really the best with pastries, but I’m good with chocolate which is in a lot of pastries. I bet if I got cozy with the head pastry chef before leaving they would take my regardless. No one can resist my mass charm. So I’ll befriend the head pastry chef then have Hazel recommend me and it’s a done deal.

“I could do that! It'd be fun! Plus I could get hazel to recommend me since pastries have chocolate most of the time so it wouldn't look weird.”

“Maybe it would be best if no one saw a connection between you and the royal family for a while. Then when we do let everyone know one day, it just seems like something came out of our Selection-time friendship when you started working at the palace.” Haha! We have a false storyline now too.

He frowned a little and scooted his chair closer to me, “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”

I nodded, “Yup! It would be fun, plus I could make cupcakes.”

He tilted his head and smiled a bit at my cupcake comment, “What about surfing? Or marine biology?”

“I can still surf if I stay here. I'm content not doing much. I like naps and eating. I don't actually like the idea of work it's annoying to be told what to do. Like i probably wouldn't mind doing the stuff for fun but being forced to to it just makes me not want to do it.” Wow sound ODD much?

He ran a hand through his fluff of hair again with an amused look, “So you wanna be a pastry chef for the fun of it?”

“Sure! I could learn how to make the ultimate cupcake to eat out of from the center. Maybe it'll go better than when I was three.”

He laughed and leaned forward to kiss the top of my head, “You’re my favorite cupcake either way.”

“Glad to know I wont be replaced by a literal cupcake.” I joked before leaning up to give him a kiss on the lips.

He laughed and mumbled a shut up into the kiss before properly speaking once it had ended, “I thought your life goal was to become a literal cupcake?”

“That would make it even sadder if I were replaced by a literal cupcake. Beaten by someone who accomplished my life goal before me.”

“That was meant as a romantic line Gabby. If I replaced you with a literal cupcake, it would be because you accomplished your life goal of becoming one.” He clarified with a smirk which caused me to blush.

“Oh well, thanks then. Not as sad. I wonder what flavor cupcake I'd be?” I asked curious about what he would say. Maybe it would be some deep personality thing.

“Strawberry.” He replied quickly. I should have seen it coming.

“Ha. Ha. Ha. It's mocking like this that lead to the outburst of actually trying some of yours.” I said referencing the great milkshake delima.

He shrugged dramatically, “What Can I say? Guilty as charged.”

“Welp, if I eat a strawberry tomorrow and am in immense pain, it's on you.”

He chuckled and leaned his elbows on his knees and took my hands, “Please don’t eat strawberries.”

“Fine. But just because I don't want to bite my tongue again. That really hurt.” I shuddered remembering the pain.

“Mhmm,” He replied before resting his chin in one of his palms and turning my hand with his other to face palm up. “Do you think this has been a successful birthday?”

“It's been pretty spectacular so far. I really liked seeing a picture of little you making a near duckface.” I chuckled thinking of the picture from his box of pictures he had given me.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what I was trying to do. Maybe I was in the middle of saying something. I was a very expressive child.”

I chuckled then decided to explain how inexpressive people thought I was when I was younger, “It's okay. People thought I was like a gangster when I was a kid. I was apparently scary. I was like cool scary though so other kids still wanted to be my friend but they were also too intimidated to talk to me. I think Stella started it because she said I was strong and she was popular so it got around. Then I made the kid cry when we were playing soccer because I accidentally kicked him in the shin. Woops. It faded more when I got into cheer though, then I was just seen as serious. Emma helped with it too since she is the opposite of intimidating to people so her being friends with me made me more approachable even though I've always been approachable and not scary at all.”

“So what I hear is that I'm dating a elementary school bully?”

“I was not a bully. I never even did anything. And the shin kicking was an accident I just got too caught up in winning and I apologized.” I said then smirked as I decided to attack him.

“You seem like the kinda person who would have been picked on in school and I mean I was a popular jock. It's like a cinderella story. nerd gets noticed by the cool girl,” I then dramatically tossed my hair.

“For the record, that is also mocking.”

“It's not mocking if its a fact.”

He made a sound like he had just been burned, because he had been, “you're right. You're a jock. A rude, pretentious jock.”

“Now you're bullying me. I didnt even insult you. I just stated a fact. and you're all like, you're rude and pretentious, which I am not.”

He hummed again, “I guess those are more of my adjectives rather than yours.”

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “I can't tell if you just insulted yourself or if you still are insulting me but saying that's what you'd say about me as opposed to what I'd say about me? But if it's the first then I want to defend because my secret boyfriend is being attacked by himself, if it's the second then I need to attack to defend my honor.”

He laughed, “You're so complicated sometimes. If it's the first, how will you defend your boyfriend by attacking your boyfriend? ...Since he is the original attacker-” He paused and frowned as he seemed confused now by the inception.

“Hmmm. Well I think I'd have to get rid of the attacking boyfriend. Since the attacker is not nice they probably don't like nice things and would be expelled if there was a nice thing. Like this-” I leaned up and gave him a soft kiss on the lips aiming to be more gentle this time. “-or maybe that was just an excuse to kiss you.” I added once it had ended.

“I think it sounds like an excuse...but I won't complain today.” He then turned his attention to something outside of the stable which I identified as a tree when I turned to look at it too, “Did Ben give you anything for your birthday?” He asked.

“No, I don't think so. But considering that he's been pretty upset with the fighting, so I've heard I haven't talked with him since he apologized on the night of the fight, and I only ever told him the date once so I wouldn't put it against him if it slipped his mind. Additionally, we're just friends now and I don't think friends always or even normally give birthday gifts anyways.” He nodded a little but clearly was still thinking about the fight.

“It probably slipped his mind…” He said before his wrist watch went off and he started to roll up his sleeves.

I frowned, “You got somewhere to go?” Obviously. But I was prompting.

“I have some wiggle room. I set my alarms before the actual schedule I've got to work with. I'm just trying to make myself look like I actually went riding.” He said as he kept rolling up his sleeves. Oh right we’re sneaking around. I forgot. He then smiled a little sadly, “There's a meeting today.”

I leaned up to give him another kiss hoping to cheer him up a little, “I don't like it when you look sad. Why do you need to roll your sleeves so far up if you had gone riding?” I said hoping the first comment would get him to talk more about it.

“Yeah, well... the meeting's about the attack.” He said and rubbed the back of his neck, “And I'm not entirely sure where it's going to go. I wanted to see if Ben had any thoughts but-” He pressed his lips together. “-no point in bothering him.” I frowned at that. I know Ben wouldn’t have been bothered but Wyatt still seemed so upset about the fight. It made sense. But it was upsetting that he was upset.

He ran a hand through his hair trying to make it messy, “As for the sleeves, it's just a thing I do. If I came back inside from "riding" with them down, it'd be weird. Besides,” He paused and smiled at me, “I've been told I look even better that way so.” I should make Wyatt happy again. There’s no point on continuing to mope in sadness when we aren’t looking for a solution. Making the mood happy again would be for the best.

I chuckled and leaned back in my own chair and put my index finger under my chin in #deepthought to seem dramatic and funny for Wyatt. “Hmmm…” I then snapped my fingers like the conclusion of if he looked more attractive that way or not had just miraculously come to me, “I agree. That's the conclusion I've come to. Whoever said you looked better with them that way is correct, it makes you look-” I dramatically waved a hand, “-dashing.”

He laughed a bit more genuinely and grabbed some hay and threw a clump in my hair before a strand on his, “I also need to look like I've been around here tending to my horse.”

I laughed and tried to brush some of it out of my hair with my fingers before throwing more in his hair, “Woops! Guess you tripped and fell while you were tending to the horses!” I joked.

“Gasp!” He exclaimed then quickly stood from his seat and lifted me up off of mine by my waist. Holding me up in the air. I couldn’t help but to let out an EEK as I was suddenly lifted up. He then quickly spun us both around, “Wonder what I tripped with?”

I couldn’t stop laughing so I tried to speak through it, “Stop! Put me down I don't wanna fall and hurt my bum!”

He pretended to be offended, “You think I would drop you?”

“I could slip!” I argued.

“how? Like this?” He then loosened his grip letting me drop a little and causing me to scream again before he fixed his grip on me.

“Stoooppp! You're taking advantage of my size! It's rude and-” I fumbled as I tried to find a word, “-SIZEST.”

He burst out laughing and sat me down, “I'll set a motion in progress to add that word to the dictionary.”

“You should. It's a very serious thing. Millions suffer from sizeism daily, like me with your sizest behavior.”

“Mhmm, I'll keep that in mind next time.” He replied still smirking as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head, “I hope this was a somewhat decent, improvised birthday-date.”

“It was. I got to meet the horse version of Wyatt same trait of rudeness, I got hay in my hair, and I got a bunch of pretty awesome kisses including our first.”

“I suppose that’s true. Though, Altivo takes full offense to that.” He replied as he started to take some of the hay out of my hair. We both then glanced over to Altivo who seemed very unoffended by my comment, “He’s hiding it to seem nice.”

“How do you even get to ride him? He seems like he would be pretty anti being told what to do. Just sit down and eat apples instead.”

He laughed, “He likes me enough. Besides, I told you he likes to show off. He’s the perfect horse for me. Who wants to be fast when you can be fancy?”

“I mean I would pick being fast over funny because when you're faster it's funner, but to each their own.”

“He can run fast. But Cleo beats him.” He then pointed at a different horse who must be Cleo then smirked, “Cleo can’t walk backwards, however.”

“ah such a needed skill. Walking backwards.” I scoffed.

He scoffed, “It’s fun!” He then tsked, “No appreciation for arts.”

I shook my head, “None at all. But I mean what would you even expect from a jock like me.” I then leaned up and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I suppose I shouldn’t expect anything more.” He then took my hands. Our fingers lacing together. I couldn’t help but smile feeling his hands in mine. “So, do I look like I’ve been jogging around, attending my horse and riding?”

“I believe so. Though in reality you've just been horse'n around with me.” I had to hold back from bursting into laughter at me own joke.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked down at me with a smile, “This is it. This will be the reason we break up.”

“You're just jealous that I'm a humor mastermind!” I cheered and pointed to myself with my thumb.

He rolled his eyes, “Only because it’s your birthday.” He then remembered something and took something I couldn’t see out of his breast pocket.

“Also, after breakfast, I figured I should get you an actual present.”

“Oooh, exciting.”

“No time to wrap though.” He added then opened his palm and showed me a shark tooth necklace on a gold chain.

A big smile overtook my face as I took the necklace and held it up to look at the tooth, “Ooh! I love it! I wonder what kinda shark it came from? They're wild with how many teeth they have. I would think it would be easier to evolve to have stronger gums than to just have more teeth which are replaceable.”

“I will be honest and say I don’t know much about shark teeth...but sure, I’ll trust you on that.” He said with a smile and leaned down to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

“I'll research later about the specific types of teeth. See you at dinner, tomato face.” I said and leaned up to kiss his cheek back.

He grinned as I pulled away, “Thank you, Cupcake.”

He soon rushed off and I stayed back with the horses. I plopped down into the small chair as I played with the necklace. Then finally, I decided it would be safer to put it on before I lost it so I put it on then messed with the tooth some more.

I looked up at Altivo who was still chilling. “He really is the best isn’t he, Altivo.” I mumbled more to myself but didn’t wanna sound like a looney so I addressed the horse. Granted he probably isn’t going to reply either.

Though he did, he gave a small huff as a reply. “I’ll take that as a yes.” I replied smugly then decided enough time had passed that probably anyone who had seen Wyatt leave would have left. So I made my way out and back to my room.

A/N p2: SO as i was writing this I was like “WOW THEY KISSED A LOT” so i counted to see how gross these two doofs are.

They got 13 kisses (not just lips)

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stretchjournalemerson · 4 years ago

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One Bible Quote Pocket Knife Away From An Existential Crisis

By Jenna Reilly

For four years, from ages eight to twelve, I played in a bowling league two towns from mine at Patchogue Bowling Alley each Wednesday night from four o’clock to five thirty. The bowling alley was running down with half-seventies, half-nineties era technology and upholstery that smelt of pretzels and old carpet. But I enjoyed myself every time I went because I found that I really liked to bowl. The satisfaction of the pins crashing down from the force of the ball or the calculations needed for the perfect aim to knock down the last few pins, etc., I found much joy in the sport. I played with the same two to three boys, some varying as the years went on. Though I never got too close with them, an imaginary rivalry sprung in my head. I thought I kept it secret, but I definitely made gloating faces when I won or acted like nothing was wrong when I had lost without realizing it.

At one point, I wanted to win so bad that I began to pray to God to get strikes or win games. Not to say I didn’t work on my technique and actual skill in the game, but I used to literally pray to win when that didn’t seem to work. Thinking back, I don’t know why I thought that it would. I must have thought God worked in ways that he really didn’t, because when I didn’t win, and I found that my praying for bowling was useless, instead of questioning whether praying for sports was reasonable, I questioned why God wasn’t helping. I do not know if it was reason or lack thereof as a child, but I began to question what everyone was telling me about God. When I was twelve, I had to quit the league because Confirmation classes started for my church which were on Wednesday nights.

In my Confirmation classes, in a room filled with children’s toys within the part of the church that doubled as a preschool, we learned of men hearing signs from God, Noah’s ark filled with two of every animal in the world, and more. Our Pastor would give us sodas and snacks as he told us lessons and words from the Bible and how they could relate to our lives. Though we never discussed hot button issues like LGBTQ+ and God’s view of them or abstinence which I thought we would, that was probably for the best considering my soon-to-be-discovered sexuality.

These classes originally started two years before we were supposed to be Confirmed. Three months before our holy day, our Pastor said we would be going to classes for half a year more instead. With no explanation or reason given to us, we were all pretty confused and aggravated, but still went on.

One other requirement along with Confirmation classes was that we had to attend pretty much every Sunday mass in our little, old white church. We all did, except for my friend Ben who barely went to class nor church for the last year and a half of our Confirmation studies. This bothered my other friends and I who spent literally countless hours in that church or its classrooms. Surely what is right and fair will prevail, I thought, this is God we’re talking about, right?

Well there I was on Confirmation day with Ben and the rest of us, getting Confirmed for God. Remembering the endless hours of masses and events we all had to go through together, they all seemed rather pointless then with Ben standing there as well in the parish hall on a brisk Sunday morning in fall. I was wearing a lace-lined white dress with my black slip-on concert shoes, which hurt very badly due to my pre-existing blisters from the required Confirmation hike we went on two weeks prior. I was at the peak of the awkward stages of puberty at fourteen years old with my braces and straightened, yet still frizzy, blonde hair.

The whole congregation of my fellow church members came today with some added extended family members of the confirmands, as my pastor called us. We sat in the nicer portable fabric-covered chairs awaiting the ceremony. I was nervous that I would trip and fall or recite something incorrectly, I did not want to mess up the day we had waited so long for. But the service started and after thirty minutes and some godly songs we were called up with our immediate families.

We all stood on the sandy, gym-like wooden floor in front of the white and brown altar and five-foot cross hanging above it. Our families stood behind us, my proud Mom behind me, tearing up, and my Dad, also proud but a little less passionately, at her side. While my Mom is semi-religious, my Dad claims that the church will cave in if he steps foot inside. My Dad’s mom was very active in my church, many of the older members would speak of her and my Dad’s family very fondly to me. I did not know much of her devotion to God, though years after her death, some of her hand-made holiday decorations were still on display during my time at the church. My Dad said he had to go to mass each Sunday growing up, though he did not care much for it. And usually following in his Father’s footsteps, he has told me that my Grandpa coined the statement about the church collapsing with his presence.

As my pastor spoke, I kept feeling for an extra holy presence, which I didn’t quite find but also did not really expect. He’s always here regardless, I thought to myself. Well, maybe.

We each swore our oaths and we were suddenly Confirmed. All of that and it was over, great, I optimistically thought.

We finished up the ceremony and started to head out after our celebratory breakfast luncheon when my pastor gave us each a bag of gifts. One of them being a cross and another being a pocket knife with a bible quote. I loved the pocket knife but that seemed kind of weird to me - get Confirmed - receive a pocket knife. I guess I should have expected the unexpected when it came to this entire experience.

When I was home that night in my room, next to me a wooden cross with a brass Jesus hung on the wall by my Mom, I contemplated the day and everything that led up to it. I had to sit through two and a half years of Confirmation classes and Sunday services and then go on a required hiking retreat in the upstate mountains of New York, all while Ben missed out on most all of it, to gain an already pre-existing misunderstood concept of prayer and God and a pocket knife after some ritual of Confirmed faith? Something wasn’t adding up in my brain. This did not seem like what I thought religion was.

Back then, I would have never considered that God was not real, especially on my Confirmation day, but I did not see many logical reasons behind why my life was going how it was meanwhile God was supposed to take care of me. Now I knew things could have been much worse and I knew I was very lucky to have the life I did, but things have not always been sunshine and flowers for me. So I questioned, why would God make it that way? I wasn’t a bad kid . . . right?

I was taught to ask God for forgiveness for wrongdoing to prevent bad things from happening, so I asked and prayed. He was always supposed to forgive us, so why were things still going the way they were? Why did two of my grandparents get taken from me when I was a child? What did I do wrong back then? Why do people get to cheat their way out of things and still get the prize at the end like Ben? Why was my hard work and effort in attending two years of church and class rewarded with another half a year at the last minute? Why did I have to go hiking and get blisters on my feet to get confirmed and be accepted by God? Everything might be even more simpler than we all think it is, but if that is the case, then what is the purpose of it all if it’s not for God?

My religious journey was nothing I took too seriously for too long. Only for a few years in childhood was I devout, but I never thought much of it as it faded away, only remembering that I did not have the best experience getting Confirmed. I had many childish reasonings and ramblings that led to my questioning of faith. But sitting here now, open to any interpretation of life (personally favoring the one that we all just simply exist within scientific fact), I wonder how “wrong” I was at such a young age to question.

I grew up and at the age of fifteen I realized I was bisexual. It took a lot to overcome the internalized homophobia within myself to realize who I was. But once I did, I started to gain confidence within my sexuality and myself that I never had before. I am glad my church did not take a stance on it during my time there because it may have made my acceptance even harder, though I assumed most religions were against it. Realizing my sexuality solidified my questioning nature of God and (mainly) the major organized religions such as Christianity or the Protestant branches which I grew up under.

New questions began to unravel my ideas of God and such religions. If God loves all His creations, then why are people like me considered sinners to the church? Why was I born like this and then destined for a horrible life of discrimination and oppression? Why did I have to hate myself for fifteen years before somehow learning to like what God apparently hates of me?

Without my questioning of faith, I might still hate myself for who I naturally am. I didn’t know who I was then, but I’m grateful now that I questioned it all at such a young age to follow the path that I personally needed to. Maybe everything went wrong for the right reasons in the end.

Naturally, this all led to the loss of God as my answer to everything. Why we suffer, die, love, endure, exist, etc. So within that came a desire to have a reason for it all, which is a natural human reaction to life, and that is why so many people turn to religion. It is much simpler to live your life for God than to find a reason yourself, it seems.

Relying on God is a valuable tool when it comes to the hard things in life. That’s why it has been so popular for thousands of years: because life is not the kindest! Think about all of the people who worked their whole lives for minimum reward except the love and grace of God for their devotion and (hopefully) a one way ticket to heaven. Now, take away God and heaven from that equation, if that is all they focused on, what else did they have to live for?

If I did not have God to live for, then I needed another reason. Once I stopped relying on Him to guide me to my purpose and meaning, I felt lost in it all when things got difficult. But over time and through my experiences, I learned my own lessons of what life can provide and what I could try to make out of it. I saw love for my friends and family, passion for my interests and hobbies, confidence in who I was, the beauty of the world around me, and so much more. The hard parts of life became a little bit more blissful when I saw the brighter side of what I could make of my existence.

So when I began to question: why is this happening to me, to all of us? What is the purpose of my life? I realized that I am not completely sure, nobody truly knows. But over time, I discovered that maybe my life could be whatever I wanted to make of it.

Acknowledgements

I am very grateful for what Professor Armour has taught me about memoirs. I had not written many memoirs before Research Writing, I was more of a fan of realistic fiction and I was used to that form of storytelling. But after reading examples and studying what distinguishes a memoir from other pieces of writing, I discovered the impact they could have. This piece specifically allowed me to process many feelings from my experiences with the church and beyond. I never truly analyzed my experiences and their effects on me until I spewed it all out on a page and wrote my memoir. Professor Armour allowed me to discover a new form of analysis within my own life through writing, and I am very grateful for it.

#stretch2021 #memoir

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keena-kapu · 7 years ago

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Destination: None - Calichrome Runaway AU

Pairing: Weiss/Blake/Ilia (Calichrome) Words: 9′707 AU: Runaway AU Content Warnings: None in this chapter AO3 Link: Click here! (Recommended for Mobile App Users) Summary: Blake Belladonna, Ilia Amitola, Weiss Schnee. Three girls that can't be more different, but are each running away from something. It's going to be a rocky trip, but these three have to stick together if they hope to survive with nothing to their name but a change of clothes and a beat up campervan. Ko-fi | Commissions

CHAPTER 1

Five days on the road, 2500 miles traveled 3:36 am Destination: None

Dead. At this time of night, everything was dead. All that sounded from the radio was mellow country music, the scenery was hidden in the darkness, and the road was devoid of any cars. Everything was dead, and there was nothing to distract from how boring the journey really was. But no matter how boring that was, it was necessary.

Everyone is running from something.

Sure, not everyone is literally running away from something, but we’re all running in some way from a part of us. We run from those relationships that didn't quite seem to work out. We run from the path our parents set out for us. Sometimes we just run because staying still is too painful. The choices we make in life are a form of running, whether it’s a healthy choice to make or not.

Was getting into a van and just driving a healthy choice? Maybe not. But that’s all Ilia and Blake had left to do. No options, no commitments, nothing left to lose. All they had were the clothes on their backs and an old Volkswagen camper with over a hundred thousand miles on the clock. There wasn’t even a destination at the end of it. Just a journey.

The light in the dashboard was probably the most interesting thing to happen the past two hours. The gas light. Finally, a reason to pull over and see something different, an excuse to look through the store. Ilia yawned, leaning back in her chair and using the wheel to help stretch her arms, anything to just keep herself awake that little longer. It wasn’t time to switch over drivers yet, but she couldn’t keep going without a coffee at least.

Five minutes in, she found a gas station to pull into. Dead yet again, other than probably a lonely clerk behind the counter inside. While not having to deal with other customers and cars at this time of night came as a benefit, the flickering lights didn't exactly offer much comfort when Ilia stepped out to fill the van up. Still, she swallowed her fears. The sooner this was done, the sooner they could get back on the road again. Or even pull in somewhere safe and get some sleep.

Once it was filled to the brim, Ilia opened the passenger door. While she preferred to let Blake sleep, they’d always agreed to tell the other of any pit stops as and when to give the opportunity to stretch legs. This was no exception no matter how peaceful she looked. She reached out for Blake’s shoulder, very gently rubbing it to rouse her from her slumber.

“Hey, it’s just me.” She spoke gently once seeing Blake’s ears twitch, a sign she was awake enough to hear her. “I’m gonna get myself a coffee, do you want anything?”

“Hmmnnn…” Blake could only hum quietly, shifting her position to sit herself up. First things she did was yawn, trying to open her eyes. The instant they were met with the dim lighting however she groaned, blinking repeatedly to try and adjust. She mumbled quietly, “What time is it?”

“Twenty to four? Too damn early.” She waited patiently for Blake to gather her bearings, catching the contagious yawn herself shortly after. She took a moment to stretch out once again, holding her arms up and behind her head. “But, yeah; do you want anything from here? Food, drink?”

Taking off her belt, at last, Blake gave a small nod. Despite her sleep being interrupted, anyone would be a fool to miss out on a rest stop. It would be hours until the next one. “Yeah. Can you get me some tea and some pretzels while I use the bathroom?”

“On it.”

The two girls made their way inside. Just as they suspected, dead on the inside too. Nothing but the mellow country music again and one lonely clerk behind the desk. While Ilia sorted paying for the gas, drinks, and snacks, Blake headed to the bathroom to freshen up.

Five days. Five days she’d been running. Five days since she’d slept in a real bed or had a real shower. No wonder she looked like garbage. But be that as it may, it was better than what was left behind. The bed lost it’s comfort months ago. The home was just a house. Blake hadn't belonged anywhere other than on the road for a long time. If all she had to sacrifice was a little of her dignity to find somewhere better then so be it. It was worth it compared to what was back there.

Blake examined the bags under her eyes. A consolation prize from their long journey with no destination in mind. It wasn't the worst she’d looked, but let’s just say checking into a motel room wouldn't be a waste of money even for just one night. Perhaps when they got to the next city she’d suggest it as a reward for their progress so far.

Funnily enough, Blake wasn't the worst looking thing awake at this time of night.

She’d hear about it when she rejoined Ilia again, who took to talking to the clerk while she waited for the coffee machine to finish. It seemed it was having trouble with tea.

“Yeah, she was here half hour ago, bought a bottle of vodka and left.” From the way he spoke, that was probably the most interesting moment of the night. “She didn’t drink it, just took it with her outside and poured it over her eye. Had to wipe blood and booze up from the sidewalk.”

“That sounds metal.” Ilia seemed rather impressed, handing over the pretzels to Blake once she was back at her side. At least something was ready.

“Yeah, it was pretty metal.” The clerk shrugged his shoulders. “But yeah, I called the cops just in case. Screw loose or not, least they’ll get her back home safe before someone else finds her.”

Ilia didn’t seem convinced. She didn’t exactly trust cops, she and Blake had good reason for that. But it was way too early in the morning to get into that conversation. Instead, she picked up the finally finished cup of tea, handing it to her friend. “ Sure, cops will do just that. Hope she’s a human for her sake.”

It was a sour note to leave on Blake thought, but Ilia was never the most tactful of people to talk to. At least it could be blamed on the time of morning. That being said, Blake was ever curious. Just what on earth were they talking about while she was in the bathroom?

She made a point to ask once they were in the van again. Ilia offered a small shrug in response, putting her coffee in the holder. “Oh, he was just asking if I’d seen some girl on the road. Apparently, she came in with her eye bleeding and shit.”

“Oh my god.” Blake sounded rather shocked to hear it. She’d caught the last half of that conversation. “And she just poured booze on it?”

“Yeah! Fuckin’ metal, right?” She laughed. Again, a pretty odd response at any other time of day, but they’d been on the road enough to see some wild sights in the middle of the night. Give it a couple of days, they’ll probably have a new story to tell that would blast this one out of the water.

Now both passengers were awake, the journey felt a lot easier. 4:05 am, there were still a couple more hours of darkness remaining, but at least now there were more reasons to stay awake. A conversation was a great way to stay up, not even mentioning the caffeine from the drinks.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Ilia held one hand on the wheel while sipping coffee with the other, sighing with relief. “and don't take this the wrong way, but, we look like shit.”

“No… What gave you that idea?” Blake managed to laugh, still waiting for her own drink to cool a little more before she could even attempt. Thank god Ilia was on the same page as her, it meant she felt a little less guilty about asking for a room. “You thinking a motel?”

“Bingo.” Ilia clarified, returning the cup to its holster. “Decent shower, decent mattress, do laundry, just not drive for a day. I think we’ve earned that.”

It didn't exactly feel like she’d earned it. Running the hell away from your problems did not warrant a reward, did it? One would say she was taking a brave step forward, but she’d disagree. Still, Ilia definitely deserved the night off. She wouldn’t let her own self-loathing stop Ilia from treating this as something she deserved. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Money’s supposed to come through at the end of the week too, so we can afford it. So long as nothing goes fuck up, we’ll be okay.”

We’ll be okay.

A smile returned to Blake’s lips as she tried once more to sip the tea. That, along with that all-important phrase warmed her heart and made her feel so secure. In spite of having nothing, being in the middle of god knows where and having no end goal in mind, she felt safe.

We’ll be okay.

“... Hey, slow down.”

Even with the darkness, Blake spotted something out of Ilia’s vision ahead. There was a figure at the side of the road, walking along it holding a bag in one hand, and what looked like a bottle in the other. It was a feminine figure, with long white hair and far too nice clothes for the time of night and location.

When she could finally see it, it matched a description Ilia knew. “That’s the nut job the clerk was talking about!”

Blake’s ears pinned right back in confusion. “The vodka girl?!”

“Yeah! Fuck, cops must not have shown up yet. You go, vodka girl.”

It didn't feel right. There was still two hours of darkness and there was no one in sight around here other than them. There was no way to tell if a cop would come near here, and no way to know who would be around at this time in the morning. The poor girl was already injured from the sounds of it; if a car full of guys happened to stop by and see her…

No, that’s not happening.

“Offer her a ride.”

It was quite a look Ilia gave when she shot around and glared. “You seriously want to pick her up after how crazy the clerk said she was?��

“You seriously think you’ll be able to sleep at night if we find out she goes missing or some shit?”

It was worth calling Ilia’s bluff. Sure, she wasn't really compassionate, but she wasn't completely heartless. There wasn't any satisfaction given with a verbal response, but the van did slow right down. Blake couldn't help her smug smile as she rolled the window down.

Once they got closer, Blake could see ‘Vodka girl’ properly. Crazy? She didn't look crazy. But what did crazy even look like? To some, it probably looked like pouring vodka over your face then walking away. But to others, it might look like packing clothes into a bag and ditching the life you had to hop into a campervan. Crazy was different for everyone.

But kindness? That was something she knew.

“Hey!” She called up, holding a smile as the girl looked around. “You lost?”

The smile wasn't returned. The girl huffed loudly, pulling the bag onto her shoulder and attempting to walk on faster. She was clearly trying to ignore them both.

Now Blake was close enough she saw the suspected injury. The girl’s eye had a large gash running down it, from her brow down to her cheek. She wasn't crazy by pouring vodka over it, she must have been sterilizing it. It wouldn't beat a hospital, but for someone out in the middle of the night, it was pretty smart.

Blake persisted. Usually, she would just give it in and accept the defeat, but she couldn't just let the girl go at this time of night. Maybe a different approach. “Next bus stop isn't for miles out here, we can give you a lift-”

“Do I look like I have my fucking thumb out?” The words were dripping with venom. Sure, she wasn't expecting ‘vodka girl’ to be sunshine and rainbows, but the vile attitude did take Blake back. But the van maintained it’s speed next to her, and she groaned in frustration. “Stop following me! Fuck off!!!”

That seemed to fit the word ‘crazy’ now. Blake was forced to sit back in her seat. She tried to help, but this girl didn't want it. Kindness can’t be forced on someone that doesn’t want it.

But then, there was a different method.

Gotta be cruel to be kind.

“Hey, dumbass!”

As harsh as Ilia’s words were, and as much as Blake cringed hearing them come from her friend, they caught the girl’s attention. She came to a stop to listen, as did the van. Leaning on the wheel, Ilia was far less sensitive than Blake was; “You’re a woman out in the middle of the night, middle of nowhere. Given your eye, it looks like you’ve had a shitty enough night so I suggest you get in because it’s gonna get even shittier if a group of guys drive down this way and spot you!”

Brutal.

But it hit the point home far better than Blake ever could have.

As much as the girl didn't want to admit it, they had a point. The next car to stop by might not even give her a choice. It was a dangerous gamble, but as it stood, this was the best offer she was going to get tonight.

What did crazy look like? It looked like taking that gamble. And the girl wasn't crazy.

She rolled her eyes, swallowing her pride and taking a few steps back to the van door. Maybe she was a little crazy to so readily accept the stranger's help, but it was way less than rejecting it. She hauled her bag onto the spare seat, throwing the leftover bottle back out onto the sidewalk before pulling the door to, sitting back on the seat with a huff.

As much as Ilia did have a good point, Blake couldn't help the second-hand embarrassment she felt about it. Brutal wasn't how she’d have handled this situation, even if it did get the results. At least she could offer the kindness in her own way now. “Where do you want a lift to?”

“Anywhere.” She was resigned in her reply. The girl refused to meet Blake’s gaze just yet, instead choosing to stare out the window as the van sped up again. “Just away from here.”

A girl in the middle of nowhere, with no destination in mind.

Where’d they heard that one before?

“We’re headed to a motel,” Blake leaned back in her seat, to look still. “Way safer to get a cab or the bus from there than the middle of nowhere.

She shrugged her shoulders, brushing her hair out of her face. “Sure, whatever.”

As much as Blake wanted to offer kindness to a stranger, maybe Ilia had been right on this one. She didn’t want to risk frustrating the girl any further than what she must have been through already, nor push her into talking when she didn't feel like it. God, she knew all too well what that felt like…

“It’s Blake, by the way.” She could throw her a rope, at least. It was her choice if she wanted to take it or not after that. “If you need us. I’m Blake, that’s Ilia. Just shout up if you need a stop.”

There was only a small nod of acknowledgment. Their passenger must be as tired as they were. She never really moved much more from her position against the window.

That made three. Three girls in a campervan, none with a destination in mind. One of which was a complete stranger, with their only knowledge of her being that she poured a bottle of vodka down her face to quick fix a wound. It wasn't ideal for any of the three involved, but it was way better than the alternative.

Needless to say, it was gonna be a long trip.

CHAPTER 2

Five days on the road, 2700 miles traveled

8:15 am

Destination: Valestone Motel

Sometimes, a week can pass in four hours. Sometimes four hours could pass in a week. That’s how it felt, anyway. All it took was a small change for the mood of the journey to change and to make its time feel so much longer than it should. That small change came in the form of ‘vodka girl’, who still hadn’t given them a real name to go on.

The majority of her time was spent staring at glass. Either the window or her phone. She hadn’t been messaging anyone or calling anyone yet, it was still too early in the morning, so Blake and Ilia thought. But so far she’d said little more than a few words to them. No questions about the stops, no details of any destination. Vodka girl remained a complete mystery all this time.

Still, that time wouldn’t be much longer. They’d spotted signs for the motel, putting it around half an hour away. By then they could get a room to themselves and the girl could sort out a better method of travel. Or even stay at the motel on her own.

At least the radio was more interesting now that the sun was up. The stations were actually playing decent hits from this century, and the people talking weren’t droning on about the politics of the most boring subjects ever. Even the news was delivered with a little more flare at this time. Not that anyone was listening.

At least, Ilia and Blake weren’t.

“First thing I need is a long bath.” Ilia smiled to herself, seeming to imagine just what it would be like. “Man, I really hope this place has a tub.”

“Last motel I went to was all showers,” Blake leaned back in her seat, smiling over at her friend. “but then again I haven't been in years. Never was big on road trips till now.”

“Well damn, you should’a probably mentioned that,” Ilia laughed, “Cause we’ve been in a van for a little while. ”

“And a little while longer I assume.”

Smiles and jokes were falling on deaf ears for the newest passenger. She was the only one paying attention to the radio. Background noise. There’s no stranger phenomenon than when you hear a name that means something to you, and then suddenly everything else vanishes except the source.

“Weiss Schnee, Daughter of SDC’s Jaques Schnee, has been reported missing,”

The girl snapped upright. Nothing else but the radio in that moment was making a sound.

“She was last seen in Downtown Vale leaving her hotel room, where the family were staying for a business trip, in the early hours of the morning. Police are urging anyone who knows her whereabouts to step forward.”

Butterflies in stomach? Try a flock of crows or something.

Where she wasn’t feeling up to talking before, she certainly didn’t feel like it now. At any moment, these two women could actually focus on the radio, jump to conclusions and turn to the police. Anyone would, right? Maybe she could last a while. If she lasted long enough they’d take her to the motel.

… but then what? Wait for someone at the motel to do the same? Take a taxi who would listen and do the same? Unless she traveled alone, it was a matter of time till someone did. There wasn't any escape from watching eyes and listening ears in every corner. Who’d take the word of a scared runaway over every media outlet in Northern Vale?

Funny… Funny how time fluxes at each thought. When you’re up in the middle of the night with worry minutes pass in hours. When you’re trying to beat the clock figuring out a plan, minutes pass in seconds.

That became apparent when the van pulled to a stop. Finally, the girl focussed again, and they were in the middle of a parking lot, by a large, but rather run down motel.

“Hey, Vodka girl?”

A raspy voice dragged her from her daze. When she looked up, Blake was already out the door. Ilia was looking over her seat and right at her. “This is our stop, if y’wanna keep going you're gonna have to get a cab or something.”

A point about the prices of a cab out here in the middle of nowhere was on the tip of her tongue. But that wasn't exactly fair when she got the first part of the lift for nothing. Even if she didn't ask for it. It was worth a shot to look for one and wasn't like she had a better option. Grabbing her bag together, she nodded. “Yes, I shall look into it, I suppose. Are you both staying here?”

“Just for the night. We’ve been on the road for nearly a week, need a comfortable bed.” She held her arm upward, quickly looking over and sniffing. “And frankly, a better shower than our water tank.”

The girl grunted in disgust. “Thank you for that completely necessary information.” Pulling the bag onto her shoulder, she stood up, making her way to the door and pulling it open. “And… I suppose I should thank you for the lift. Even if I didn't ask for it.”

Ilia shrugged her shoulders. “Eh, good deed for the week.”

With that, the girl left.

No point in prolonging the weird and awkward conversation when all parties had just had to deal with it for over four hours. All that time and neither Ilia nor Blake got a single clue as to the girl’s name, or her destination, or anything. The path each of them was running split here, probably for the best.

Paths can always cross again though.

After taking a moment to freshen up in the bathroom and clean the cut, the girl’s new path saw her entering the motel. There weren't many words that couple be used to describe the place, yet “Eighties” seemed to fit perfectly. And not in a flatteringly nostalgic way. It was dingy, dark, desperate for redecoration for a decade.

Doesn't matter. I won't be staying.

Approaching the reception, the girl hit what was probably the youngest thing in the room. The small bell at the desk. As she waited, she thought more and more of her new path in her head. She needed something to drown out the dreary country music from the radio.

Maybe if I got to Oniyuri? Good distance closer to Mistral. From there I can call her, get her to come get me.

She leaned forward on the desk.

Shit, how much is that gonna be? How many hours? Will they even take card? Fuck. Maybe if I stayed here she can come get me? How long would that take her though? Fuck, I really don't want to stay here. It probably has fleas and roaches and-

“Yeah?”

It wasn't the warm welcome someone would expect from a receptionist, but it definitely matched the displeasing appearance of the whole motel. Still, the girl cleared her throat. “U-um… hello. I was wondering if you could call a taxi for me?”

The woman didn't look impressed. “You not got a cell phone?”

Ironically, the words dripped with the same amount of venom as the girl shot Blake last night. What goes around comes around. “I do, but I don't know what firms operate here.” She clarified.

The woman grunted, picking up the phone by the desk and beginning to enter the number. “Got a name, sweetheart?”

Shit. Didn't think that far ahead.

“Oh… uh…”

Shit, shit, shit!!! Okay, time for plan B.

“Actually, I just remembered! I can get a lift in a couple of days. S-sorry.”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. She slowly put the phone down, tilting her head. “So, you want a room then? Or are you just gonna waste my time?”

Fucking hell this woman is rude. I’d rather take the roaches.

“Suppose I’ll have to.”

The woman slid a pair of reading glasses on. Funnily enough, the moody librarian look suited her personality better. She pulled out the check-in book, opening it ready. “A’right. Gonna need your name, address, and way of payment.”

Are you fucking serious? This shithole needs all that?

Fuck fuck fuck what can I do?

Fuck!!!

“Actually… I’m sorry. I came here too soon. I might be joined by someone yet.”

With a roll of her eyes, the woman took her glasses off again. “Don't ring the bell again till you know what you want, a’right?”

God, she wanted to let her have it. Hit her with the do you know who I am?! Speech. But that was the point. The radio was on announcing that name with every news update, it the woman knew who she was she’d phone the police. Then she’d really be screwed.

What the hell could she do now? Every option needed her name. Cab? Name. Room? Name. A bus probably wouldn't be around for hours and she’d never be able to figure out the stops or get the cash either. There were very few options left that didn't involve cash.

One option saw her looking at the left open check-in book, and making a mental note of the room number of a particular guest...

Desperation could look a lot like crazy.

The path Blake and Ilia were on was far smoother. Blake had checked them in the instant they arrived way before the girl had even tried. She seemed to have caught the receptionist when in a better mood considering how quick the service was.

The room could definitely be improved. It was old looking, definitely not up to health and safety code, and there still wasn't much proof there couldn't be roaches or fleas; but it would do. Laying on a long bed with legs outstretched beat the cramped interior of the van for yet another day.

An escape from an escape...

“Oh fuck yes!” The voice of Ilia echoed from the bathroom. She leaned around the door, giving Blake a grin. “There’s a tub! And it’s bug-free!”

“Nice,” Blake found her comfort on the bed. Legs outstretched and pillows against the wall. A perfect seat. “Now you can be out the way while I smoke my lungs out.”

“Go nuts. Ain't as if there’s a smoke detector to stop you.” The door closed behind her, but still the muffled voice got through. “Might as well take advantage of me not being able to complain about it!”

Didn't need telling twice. The water had barely been running a minute by the time Blake lit up. If asked, she’d tell anyone to never pick up smoking as a habit, or say she was trying to kick it and quit for next month. It was always next month. Who was she kidding? The warm sensation in her throat and lungs offered a huge relief like nothing else could. These last few months she was convinced a stick of tar and nicotine was her only solace.

Until she started to run of course. Healthier than smoking, offered a far more permanent solution.

We’ll be okay.

The run was a solace, but their small break provided small things she’d missed. For one, the ground didn't move when she stood up, she could actually stand up without hitting the ceiling as well. But there was one more thing. Better entertainment. A flick of the bedside remote turned on the TV, immediately scrolling through for something to watch.

And… nothing. A thousand channels, nothing to watch. Maybe it wasn't better entertainment after all. By about twenty channels Blake had just gotten into the rhythm of switching channels with one hand, holding the cigarette with the other. While she kept an eye on it, she was pretty sure there’d be nothing at this time to watch apart from maybe some sitcom.

Then suddenly she stopped.

You know that feeling when you see someone’s face on TV? And you just know you’ve seen them before in something, so you pull up a Google search just to see who they are?

Well, that’s even stranger when you see a face of someone you have definitely met in real life.

And even stranger still when you just saw them half an hour ago.

As it turns out, Vodka girl did have a name. And Vodka girl was a pretty big deal. The news report featured a photo of her, one without the cut down the side of her face, and was listing her as missing. Her name? Weiss Schnee. Everyone had heard of the Schnee's, they were a very big deal across remnant. Sure, faces other than Jacques’ didn't really appear in the papers or on TV much at all, but seeing that face again…

We had a fucking Schnee in the van?!

Then came the questions. Why? The longer she watched the report, the more it seemed like they were treating her as though she’d been kidnapped down a dark alleyway or something. Aside from the cut, however, she was fine. She was choosing to keep walking herself if they hadn't of convinced her to come onboard. There was only one possible reason.

She’s running from something too.

In the media, the Schnee's were presented as a perfect family. Functional, mature, all dedicated to the business. It was fucking cringey to anyone on the outside. Now though, seemed that perfect family was a fabrication. Why else would someone run away from something so perfect? Blake knew all too well not to judge that.

Afterall, why would someone run away from the perfect relationshi-

Knock knock

Blake snapped back to reality when there was a faint knock at their door. For the best as well, considering the cigarette had very nearly burnt her fingers. She took another long drag, closing her eyes for that sort moment to enjoy it before putting it out in the ashtray and heading to answer the door. It didn’t look as though this place had a decent housekeeping service, but she could be wrong. So long as she could make sure they didn’t walk in on Ilia during her bath, that was the main thing.

But when she opened the door, there was something more surprising than housekeeping.

Funny. On the TV wasn’t going to be the last place she’d see ‘Vodka Girl’ today. She stood before her, holding her bag to one side. Just a few hours ago she was literally telling Blake and Ilia to fuck off, and now she was here, looking humble as ever. Anyone would when they wanted something.

“H-hello, Blake.”

Blake didn't respond vocally. She leaned to one side of the doorframe. Looking past her gave the guess an easy view of the TV and its contents. And when ‘Vodka girl’ was seeing her own face and name upon it, she took a deep breath in.

“You know who I am.”

“Lil’ hard to miss.”

Brutal.

This time Blake was the one that didn't sugarcoat it. She wasn't going to make this easy for Weiss at all. She shook her head, grip tightening on her bag as though she were going to leave at any moment. But crazy was still worth a shot.

“Look, hear me out?” She began, trying to avoid looking at the screen for too long. “I would not come out of my way to find your room and come back unless I was truly desperate.”

Desperation looked a lot like crazy.

“If you came to ask me to keep my mouth shut, don't worry about that. I don't exactly get along with cops.” A flick of her ears gave a rather big hint as to why that was. A hint that was very well taken by Weiss.

“Well, I won't deny that’s one of the reasons,” Her gaze looked to the ground. She looked like a deer in the headlights rather than a glamorous celebrity. “But there’s something a little bigger I need to ask…”

Blake’s eyebrow raised. The four hours in the van Weiss had been completely silent, and now she wanted a favour? Anyone in their right mind would tell her to hit the road. But hey, someone running away from everything wasn't exactly in their own right mind.

“I need somewhere to stay a while,” There it was. “Just while I contact someone. For some reason, this shithole needs a name and address, and I’m not exactly in a position to give that right now.”

Blake shrugged her shoulders. “So give a fake name, I highly doubt a ‘shithole’ is gonna check it’s genuine.”

“I did think of that, but if the police have been called, they’ll be monitoring my card transactions. When I pay for it, they'll be able to track me down.”

“Right.” Blake folded her arms. “So I’m guessing you’re not gonna be paying us anything for doing this either.”

“Hey, I’d never ask to ghost unless I wasn't truly despera- ugh, fine.” Weiss brought a hand to her face, shaking her head against it and sighing sadly. “You have no reason to help me, I have nothing to offer. I’m sorry for just wasting your time.”

There wasn’t anything to gain, but there was nothing to gain the night previous either. And yet… Blake spent a long time looking and thinking. Logically, rejecting her now that she was actually asking for the help would be a dick move after they’d twisted her arm the night prior. But more importantly, when she looked again at her face, and to the injured eye… She just knew in her heart the right thing to do.

“Get in here and make your phone call,” Blake showed her answer by stepping to one side, allowing Weiss to pass and enter the room.

Weiss quietly thanked god under her breath, walking straight inside and taking a seat on the small futon one side the room, well away from everyone else. Maybe now she was actively seeking the help, she’d be a lot more social than she was in the van. Or perhaps Blake had fucked up and yet again it would be awkward silence all around.

Still, at least knowing she wasn’t a dick was a comfort. Now all she had to wait for was Ilia to come out and maybe play hell.

Well technically I paid for the room, so she can’t exactly complain about her being here.

CHAPTER 3

It turned out there was a long time for Ilia to become an issue. She took long baths. Guess when the water isn’t yours, you can waste a lot of it topping the tub back up with warm water, as Blake could hear every now and again.

The company was quiet. Not so much an awkward quiet anymore, at least. But more of a mutual understanding of quiet. The tv had been turned over to a much more pleasant channel for background sound, but Blake had begun a spot of reading on her phone. Thank god for fan fiction, hours of reading joy for no cost.

Weiss was also on the phone, but for different reasons. She was trying to get in touch with this contact of hers. The sooner that was sorted, the sooner she could go. Maybe it’d be all over before Ilia even got out the bath and they wouldn't have an argument on their hands. Maybe… but unlikely. Given their luck so far.

“It’s on the outskirts of Vale.” She paced around the room, holding the cell to her ear. Only one side the conversation was heard. “About nine hours drive from Oniyuri, I think? Give or take. I can try and get there then wait for you?”

So far so good. Blake thought.

“What do you mean you aren't around for four months?!”

Never-fucking-mind.

Even listening to one side, anyone could understand what was being said on the other line from Weiss’s body language. It was fairly obvious she was in trouble with the way it looked like her heart dropped. The pacing had stopped, her eyes were the widest she’d seen, and she clutched the phone like it was all she had left in the world. Maybe saying this was bad was an understatement.

“So get your girlfriend to come get me! You keep saying you wish I could meet her maybe now’s a perfect time!”

Weiss ran a hand down her face as she continued to listen.

“Can't you explain to her my situation? Surely she’s an actual person outside the job.”

She resigned to the sofa again, holding her head and sighing sadly.

“Right, I see.” … “No, I understand, I wouldn't want to get her fired.” … “How can you send me money? If they’re tracking my card then-” … “Wait, that’s a thing?”

Blake continued to watch Weiss over her phone, pretending she was looking at that instead. But she was watching the girl’s every move, trying to get some idea of the conversation at hand. She could more or less guess, but still, curiosity.

“So you can have that delivered? I don't exactly have an address right now” … “P.O box, right. Can you send it to a town close to me in case I have to-” … “Iganbana. Okay. And how soon will it be there?”

Iganbana. That wasn't too far, about fifty miles or so away. Just an hour on the road, that wouldn't be asking for much at all.

“Alright. I’ll see how I can get a room tonight then make my way there to collect it. Really, thank you so so much for this, I’ll be sure to pay you back once we figure this out.” … “Love you too, stay safe out there. Bye.”

That single call looked like it took more out of her than this entire journey. Even hearing one side the conversation sounded exhausting enough. Lucky for Blake, however, Weiss was indeed more social this time. She could see Blake staring, and filled in the blanks.

“Typical the day I finally leave is the day my sister’s being deployed.”

Blake’s ears folded on her head. At least when she made her escape, she had Ilia. Not just to travel with, but also for a place to sleep. Ironic that the celebrity who had everything before now didn't even have that most basic need. “She can't even send you a key to her place while she’s away?”

“It’s her girlfriend’s place, her girlfriend’s a cop. If she let me stay there without reporting it then she could get fired. Maybe even fined or arrested, if my dad has anything to do with it.”

The worry going through Weiss struck an all too familiar chord with Blake. The fear, the panic, the regret. The ironic thing? When you want to run away from the choice of if to run away or not. Even now, having been away for almost a week, there were times when she wanted to go back. Or moments of panic where she thought she’d be found. If she could help someone else in her situation, she would.

“If you’re an adult, by law he can't do shit.” Blake began to explain, ears perking back up again when she noticed Weiss was listening. “You can confirm you’re safe to the cops, but you don't have to reveal your location if you don't want someone to find-”

“I’m Seventeen.” She stopped Blake in her tracks, lowering her hand again to look her in the eye. “Only for a couple more weeks, but in the eyes of the law I’m a minor and was reported missing as a minor. My parents would need to be informed regardless of my choice.”

Now that made things a little more difficult. Her and Ilia had a much easier road when it came to parents. They were at least old enough for there to be no concern with adult figures. Difficult to walk down for them personally, but easy in regards to upping sticks and just leaving in the eyes of the law.

Everyone is running from something.

Yet again that phrase, one Blake had as a mantra. Whether the running was real or not, we all needed our own escapes. But this was different in Weiss. It seemed sadder, more fearful… more full of doubt. What on earth made a high profile celebrity want to run from everything she ever knew without even a basic plan?

Before Blake could even ask, the bathroom door clicked open. Finally, Ilia had finished with her bath, stepping out wearing nothing but a towel. She was totally oblivious to their guest as she stepped out the room, face buried in another towel as she tried to dry her hair.

“That feels so much better,” She could be heard behind the towel, sighing with content as she lowered the towel. “I left some of the hotel soaps if you want a showe-”

The instant her eyes locked on with Weiss’s, she froze up. Suddenly she felt very very naked. She turned her body away, the darkened spots on her cheeks turning to a burning pink colour as she pulled her towel close to her body. “Okay, uh, why the fuck is Vodka girl back?!”

“Don’t freak out.” Blake insisted. She stood at Weiss’s defense, getting up from the bed to stand between her and Weiss. No one knew Ilia better than her, she knew her friend had a habit of letting her mouth run and then regretting it later. She wanted to spare Ilia that stress, and Weiss the extra stress. “I let her in. She’s in a shitty situation too, hear her out.”

“A little warning could have been nice.” She looked back and forth between Blake and Weiss. “Seriously, what the hell is going on? I thought she was gonna get a taxi from here and fuck off!”

“Excuse me, she has a name.” Weiss reminded her, eyes narrowing when she looked in Ilia’s direction. “Do you always greet everyone with a filthy mouth? Or is it just me?”

“Your dumbass was lucky I even offered you a lift, and now you want to ask more from us?!”

“Ilia!” Blake called up a little louder to catch her attention. Everyone was acting a little crazy in the room at the moment. But this wasn't what everyone needed at all. Not after all the shit today. She waited for both to calm down before trying to explain. “The hotel’s checking addresses and she doesn't have one right now. She’s just like us. What would we be if we turned her away?”

Ilia’s eyes narrowed. “Uh, normal ? Doing what keeps us safe ? The last thing we need is a god damn human expecting a free ride from us.”

That didn't impress Weiss at all, who scoffed. “Pot calling the kettle black, much?”

“Excuse me?!” The sentence was punctuated in a very unexpected way. Ilia’s very skin pulsed with colour, it went from a tan brown to a vivid red, with her spots turning yellow in colour. As if anyone needed another clue Ilia was mad. That was one way to reveal she was a Faunus too.

It definitely shut Weiss up, who stared in awe. Suddenly she felt a lot smaller. “Okay, chameleon… got it.”

“Ilia, listen.” Blake was begging at this point. She knew her friend. She knew Ilia would want to make the right decision, but she knew how easy she was to get frustrated or annoyed. With all, they went through, who wouldn't be?

So she explained as much as she knew. She told her who Weiss was, the missing person report, the delivery over in Iganbana, all while expressing the sheer desperation Weiss had for them to help her. She tried her very hardest to appeal to Ilia’s more selfless side, the one she showed her when she first said she needed to run.

Skin pulsed back to normal. It must be working. All but the annoyed expression on her face when she crossed her arms. “So you just figured I’d go along with this without even asking?”

“Ilia, she’s desperate,” Blake begged.

“And we’re not?!” Ilia growled, “You know how dangerous all this is, and now you want us to harbour a minor on the side and get in trouble with the cops?” She shook her head, quickly walking to the wardrobe to finally collect her clothes. Her foot was down, her choice was made. “It’s my van. We’re not doing it. She can buy her own shit.”

When Blake looked around, she saw something she recognized all too well in Weiss. An expression that had two very clear meanings. One of them, that she wanted to stand her ground and say something, maybe even shout out her frustrations. But overwhelming that was fear. Ilia was nothing to be scared of, that much was true, but it was clearly striking a tone she’d been met with many times before. And Blake wouldn't stand for that.

��My van my rules’ huh? Two people can play that game.

“We’re not in your van.” Blake corrected. When Ilia looked around at her, Blake wore a rather smug grin. Now it was her turn to be a dick. “It’s my room . I paid for it, remember? And if we’re pulling the ‘it’s my this ’ card, my money paid for this round of gas too.”

Checkmate.

Had her hands not been full of clothes she’d have raised them. But what was the point? She had no point to make in return. There wasn’t even an argument to be made that Iganbana was out of the way, considering it was the closest city in the direction for gas and food. Blake was completely right.

She resigned with a sigh. “ Fine. Fuck me, then, I guess. Only drove our asses nearly three thousand miles.” And with that she stormed back into the bathroom again with her clothes, slamming the door firmly shut behind her. Ah yes, the Ilia way to end a conversation.

Minutes were passing in hours again in the silence. That note rendered both Blake and Weiss utterly speechless. While Weiss was truly grateful, it felt too awkward to offer a thank you to Blake. And an apology felt pointless as well.

This extended trip just got a little more awkward.

Six days on the road, 2800 miles traveled

11:35 am

Destination: Iganbana

That was the worst night of the trip. No contest. Leaving the ghosting worries aside, it was bad enough attempting to find places for three people to sleep in a room with just a double bed and a futon. The fact that night everyone was on bad terms made it even worse. Ilia had demanded the futon, insisting she was too angry to even try and share a bed with either of the two. In turn that made the ridiculous situation of two strangers sharing a bed.

No one wanted to stay a minute longer than they had to. So they didn’t. They were up early, checked out quickly and were on their way before noon. So much for a night of relaxation like they’d intended in the first place. Yet another waste of money, just what they needed.

Iganbana was still half an hour away. Theoretically, at least. In reality, it was probably twenty minutes away. Ilia really didn’t want to drag this out longer and was showing that clearly as she sped down the highway over the speed limit. A fact none of the passengers dared to bring up, even if they knew she probably shouldn't be doing it.

“Shit!”

Finally, something broke the silence. But not in a good way at all. In the rearview mirror, Ilia saw unwanted company. In the form of blue lights. And a rather annoyed looking cop. The one time she’d gone over the limit the whole trip, and they just had to run into a cop!

This was bad. This was so very bad. That was all Blake thought when she tried to look behind herself. Probably a human too, probably a dude. Even on a regular day, two faunus girls had reason to be nervous. But there was an officially missing minor in the back as well to consider. “Were you over by much?” She attempted to ask in order to mask her fears.

“Not really, but enough to get us pulled. Shit, they’ll probably stop and frisk us and everything.”

In the rear seat, Weiss raised an eyebrow. “Why would they? You were only speeding a tiny bit?”

It earnt her only a burning glare. She really wasn’t going to win with Ilia today it seemed. “Easy for you, white human girl it’s just a little bit extra speed. They see Blake and me? They’ll assume the worst, guaranteed.”

That was something Weiss hadn’t even had to consider. But the more she thought about it… the more obvious it became. Though, Ilia could pass as human easily, so long as she wasn’t with Blake. Maybe if someone else was in the driver seat, this wouldn't be a problem…

Lightbulb.

Weiss quickly searched through her bag for a pair of large shades as the van started to pull in. “Swap seats with me.”

A confused Ilia couldn’t even look around. “Are you insane?! Do you want them to find you faster?!”

“Do you want me to make this journey worth your while or not? Trust me!”

What the fuck is she playing at? Though, wasn’t like there was much else. They’d just be prolonging the inevitable if they didn’t do it.

… fuck it.

Once the van had pulled in, Ilia quickly unbuckled and scrambled toward the rear of the van as per Weiss’s request, with the girl taking her place quickly. She took a moment to put the shades on, and quickly move the hair on her face to another direction. It was minor changes, but to someone who may not be looking closely, this might just work.

All they could do was wait. Funny how yet again this was a moment where seconds passed in hours. Hours which Blake had to try and ignore the horrendous knot in her stomach, where Ilia tried to swallow her fear. Truth be told? Weiss was scared too. But she was determined. This time, she’d be able to lie. And everything would be okay.

Everything will be okay.

The officer approached the window. A white human male, just as they expected. Weiss wound the window down and looked towards him a moment. The tense atmosphere was enough to make her heart race, but she wouldn't let it show. Not this time. As though a switch had been flipped, she offered him a beaming smile, and the cheeriest voice imaginable. "Good morning, officer! May I help you?" Both faunus parties couldn’t help but cringe. There was no way in hell anyone would buy that. and yet… it seemed he did. The cop offered a warm smile back to her, resting his arm on the open window as he relaxed against the door for a moment. "Morning, lovely lady!” He looked into the van, looking over the fake smiles given by Blake and Ilia. “or should I say, lovely ladies.” Okay shit, keep it together. He was buying this. He was really buying this. Maybe they would be safe after all.

Moment of truth. He pulled out a small book from his pocket, asking “Ma’am, are you aware of what speed you were just going?” Weiss put her hand to her chin. Then once again in that cheery voice, one that Ilia would probably punch someone in the face for doing usually, she played dumb. "I'm afraid not. Was I over?" The cop laughed nervously, leaning on the door once more and looking her in the shades. "I'm afraid so, ma'am." Weiss gasped. Oh god, watching this performance was enough torture. She placed a hand on her chest and looking as though this stranger had just insulted her. She really was making sure this was a theatric performance. "Oh gosh, I am so sorry! I had no idea I was going that quick. I'm so so sorry, officer." "That's okay ma'am. But I'll just have to see your lice-"

"Oh gosh, this is so awful." She was really going for it. Was that a sniff?! She raised a hand to her mouth, really giving off the expression that she was about to cry. Even if she could practically feel the eyes rolling from Ilia in the back and see Blake's expression looking like one of embarrassment, she faked a sob. "I can't get a ticket! My dad only just let me borrow this van today for the... music festival.”

Just when it seemed like the cop was about to ask ‘which festival’ she quickly sobbed again to distract him. “Oh, it's my first-time I-I can't miss it! I can’t let my friends down!" "Woah Woah Woah, calm down, sweetheart, it's ok." Thank god the cop was more focused on Weiss than them, else he might have noticed Ilia’s groan and Blake’s little eye roll. But he lapped it up. He stood up, putting the ticket book away and instead getting out a regular notepad. "Tell you what, darlin'; I'll let you off with a verbal caution this time, no paperwork required, with it bein the middle of the country 'n'all, if you give me your name and number. Deal?" "Oh... I suppose..." Within the next few minutes, Weiss wrote down a few details on the pad. A fake name, and a number below. They laughed and joked with one another, even despite the annoyed expressions of both Blake and Ilia of the whole ordeal. Ironically, the topic of switching drivers came up and Ilia ended up in the driver's seat again. She leaned out the open rear window, giving him a wave and a grin. "Thank you again, officer!" "And thank you, Welma!" He grinned back at her, calling out just before he entered his car. "I'll call you after my shift!"

"I'm looking forward to it!" And with that, she finally got inside, shutting the window and sitting back on her seat. As soon as the engine started again, Weiss's facade ended. Like the flip of the same switch, she returned to her sour-faced self. "What, a, moron."

"I can't believe you got away with that." Blake didn't know it to laugh or groan again in annoyance. No matter how fake she could tell it was, she had to admit it was impressive. It got them out of what could have been a dangerous situation. "That was so fucking extra though." Ilia shrugged her shoulders. "Human, white, girl, you really can flirt your way out of anything." Weiss folded her arms. "Well, you were the one saying I should acknowledge the privilege I have, might as well use it." "...”

You know what? Maybe she could like this girl. “You do have a good point." That was probably the first time Ilia agreed with something Weiss had said. And it didn't stop there. She looked up to the rearview mirror, making sure Weiss was looking too when she finally said; "Thank you." Weiss smiled. A genuine smile this time. And it felt good. "It's the least I can do. I never did give you a proper thanks for yesterday morning." For a few minutes, there were only the faint sounds of the radio within the van. It was a much less awkward silence, comfortable at last. There were actually signs that they could all leave this van on a high note after all. Provided nothing caused another argument along the way.

But curiosity was burning at Blake. And she broke the silence. "Hey, Welma, what are you gonna do with the cop calls you, exactly?" Weiss scoffed. "You really think I gave him my number? I wouldn't be that extra, don't worry." "Well, you weren’t exactly giving fakes yesterday." Blake reminded her. But she looked over to the rear seat toward her. “Seriously though, what number did you give him?" "Let's see, I gave him..."

Weiss withdrew her phone from her pocket. This had to be good if she was showing it rather than saying it aloud. She called out the numbers as she dialed them into her phone. She called the number and activating loudspeaker so Ilia could listen too. There were a few low toned rings, and then... "Hello, you've reached the voice mail of Jaques Schnee. Please leave your name, number, and reasons for your call after the tone." “Oh my god.” “Holy fucking shit.”

Both Ilia and Blake were lost for words. But weren’t lost for laughs! They ended up laughing loudly from the front of the van, Blake barely able to keep her eyes open and Ilia struggling to keep driving straight. Now that was going to be a shock for that poor cop when he called later.

After taking a few breaths, Ilia finally looked up again, offering another warm smile. “You know what? I think we got off on the wrong foot before. You’re alright.” "Thank you very much," Weiss smirked, crossing her legs as she sat back into a comfortable position. "And if we get pulled over again, I'm sure my dad will love being asked on as many dates as possible."

Ilia laughed again quietly. The jokes between them were fantastic reassurance of the trip ahead, even if only thirty minutes remained. Still, if minutes passed in hours, a lot could happen in that time. Especially with Ilia’s suggestions.

“Want me to floor it so we do?”

“NO!”

#Calichrome #Calichrome (RWBY)#Kapu Fic #RunawayAU

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