#just as i make a nice set of drawings the crew does some stupid shit and i have to stop satnning them god dammit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

secretlysheikah · 3 years ago

Text

Discovering Hyrule

So just what was Hyrule like when the chain stumbled upon him in his natural habitat? Well read and find out. Did someone ask for bad ass Hyrule? No? Well too bad you’re getting it today.

I like to dedicate this to the lovely @vengeful-sock for always being there for me and always being willing to listen to my rambles.

Don’t wanna read it here? OKAY! Check it out here on Ao3 Please enjoy my take on our most precious of beans:

Start Here: They stuck out like a sore thumb, Link thought to himself as he watched the three men walk through town. They were dressed strangely and they were all together too clean, making them completely at odds with the town they strolled through. One was tall with odd markings on his face and wore very nice and shiny armor. The other who was slightly shorter sported what looked like a rather nice animal pelt around his shoulders. The last, well that white cape would have drawn anyone’s eye but the large gem that clasped the cape around his neck certainly wasn’t helping.

They were already drawing the eyes of the hardened townsfolk and Link could see the avarice that burned like coals deep in their eyes. The three men didn’t seem to notice however and simply continued to go about their day. They simply talked amongst themselves in hushed tones and went about buying potions and other supplies that hinted at adventure, completely oblivious or maybe indifferent to the various gazes that clung to their backs. Link kept his eye on the group too, though it was more out of curiosity and concern rather than greed. They were certainly odd characters to be sure. His guess was that they were some kind of nobility playing at being adventurers, though he had never seen them whenever he would visit Zelda. He supposed it wasn’t out of the question that they came from a neighboring Kingdom but he had his doubts.

Link tugged the hood of his cloak over his face and sipped at a bowl of thin broth and half wilted vegetables he cradled in his hands as they passed by. They were muttering something about finding the hero of this land and he smirked. He must be quite popular if nobles from other Kingdoms were looking for him. He took another long sip from his bowl, too bad they wouldn’t find him. He was quite adept at avoiding unwanted attention especially from a group of odd men looking to find him. If he could hide from monsters that called for his blood, and the various thugs that wanted his head as a trophy these guys were shit out of luck. He felt a twinge of apprehension pinch at his gut at the idea of just avoiding the group all together however. The whole situation was odd and he didn’t care for it one bit, but he had to admit he was curious.

He blinked away the steam from his eyes and slurped the rest of the thin soup down before he stowed the bowl away in his pack and dropped a few rupees on the merchant’s cart. Then he was away, following the three hopeless men at a distance. As much as he wanted to leave them to their own devices, he knew he would feel terrible if he heard that anything happened to them. He didn’t know why, it wasn’t like they were his responsibility but still the feeling clung to him.

‘What if they need my help?’ He thought to himself as he kept his eyes down as he walked. He slowed his pace just a smidge, making sure he blended in with the half starved and filthy townsfolk that bustled about their day, unwilling to call attention to himself just yet. Even though he had just got into town he was already ready to leave, in fact he was on his way out of town when he had spotted the strange men walking down the lane. He had to admit that when he saw them his curiosity had been peaked, and it appeared he hadn’t been the only one. As he meandered along he noticed that it wasn’t just him that was following the group. A quick glance to the side granted him the sight of one of Brutus’s boys following at a pace on the other side of the lane. He looked casual enough, but Link could tell what he was up to.

He tugged on the edge of his hood, making sure it was well and truly covering his face as he quickened his steps. The group was still dawdling around the different street vendors and he noted how they seemed to have bottomless rupee bags. He grimaced at them, were they just clueless or were they stupid? Could they not notice the eyes on them?

“Stupid nobles,” Link grumbled to himself, they were going to get themselves mugged at this rate and he severely doubted they knew how to even use those swords they had strapped to their backs.

Link watched as they were in the process of putting away some fresh bread they had just bought when he spotted the rest of the local thugs. Just ahead of the group there were two other men, both with their heads down and hulking and all together not the people he wanted to see. They were a part of Brutus’s crew alright, if the dull red cloaks they wore were any indication of their alliance.

The way they were standing shoulder to shoulder, blocking the way of the odd group only meant one thing. Any doubt he might have had about what the men had planned was erased when out of the corner of his eye he watched as the other man quickly crossed the lane and grabbed the man in with the white cape. In a blink all three men were bundled into the alley way just past a clothing stall. Link let out a small curse and jogged forwards to the mouth of the alley way with renewed urgency.

“What is this all about?” Link heard the man with the fancy armor ask as he rounded the opening of the alleyway. The tone of voice commanded respect, though it didn’t seem to faze the three brutes. Still Link was taken aback. The voice hadn’t been haughty, but instead firm and rough like he was used to ordering around a band of rowdy soldiers. The command hung in his chest like a weight and it wasn’t even leveled at him. He blinked in surprise, he had not expected that sort of militaristic tone to come from a noble, so maybe this ‘noble’ was in fact a soldier? A warrior perhaps? Either way it was clear he was clueless of the situation he found himself in.

Link was about to call out when one of the more burly of the muggers laughed and drew a blade. Before any of them could react he slammed the man in the fur pelt against the wall of the alley and pressed the edge of the knife into the soft flesh of his throat. Blood trickled ever so slightly from the place where the knife sat and it felt like the world was holding its breath. This was not good.

“That’s a nice fur you got there, I think it would suit me nicely,” The brute said blatantly ignoring the other man’s question as he eyed the pelt on the man’s back. The man in question bared his teeth like a beast but the hulking thug just smiled and dug the knife just a touch deeper into his throat.

“None of you move or I’ll have Garret here slice his throat,” the cloaked figure that grasped the man in the white cape said and Link could tell he was grinning under the hood. The other two travelers nodded quickly and raised their hands so they were in plain view.

“So what, you just want our stuff?” The man pressed against the wall asked with an incredulous laugh and Link noticed the way all three of the odd travelers looked at each other. They seemed confused, and maybe a bit relieved? But that didn’t make any sense. Link felt his confusion building to a fevered pitch and before he could stop himself he found himself responding to the man’s question himself.

“I thought that was fairly obvious,” Link said quietly and was rewarded with six sets of eyes looking at him. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares and grasped the handle of his sword just a bit tighter. He let out a light cough and straightened before he addressed the group at large.

“Hello there, I’ll give you a few seconds to get that knife away from his throat. If you’re quick about it I may even let you keep your dignity,” Link said cheerily from beneath his hood, shifting slightly so that his smile flashed from it’s depths. There was a pause, where no one seemed to know what to do and Link waited. He watched as it seemed his words finally broke through the surprise of the pseudo leader of the muggers as he finally turned to face him fully.

“Oh, it’s you,” The man sneered and Link offered him a small wave.

“You are correct, now, please let them be on their way,” He said and frowned when the three men began to laugh loudly. Link pursed his lips and nodded, letting his hand fall away from his sword and joining in with the laughter. He quickly scanned the faces of the three travelers, letting his eyes meet with the taller traveler before he gave a curt nod.

“And what makes you think we have to do a damn thing you say? Now get out of here now and maybe we won’t tell Brutus that you snuck back into town,” He said and Link felt his heart race in anticipation. He watched as the taller man shifted ever so slightly so he was closer to the knife wielding mugger.

“So does this mean you’re not going to let them go?” He asked and was answered by more derisive laughter.

“So be it,” Link muttered and in one smooth motion he dashed forwards quicker than blinking and reached up, grabbing the man’s wrist who was holding the knife and twisted. The knife fell to the ground with a clatter and the brute let out a yelp of pain, then all Hell broke loose.

As soon as the knife had been dropped, the man who had been pinned to the wall lunged forwards like a wild animal and tackled the person holding on to the man in the white cape. Link felt an arm snake around his neck and he was hauled backwards off his feet. His hands flew up to the arm that was now choking off his airway and he grunted. He tried to bring up his legs and kick off the wall but the thug must have stepped back because he felt nothing but air.

The man holding him only managed a couple steps backwards when he was stopped by the taller man with the shiny armor. Link watched out of the corner of his eye as the traveler grabbed the arm that was compressing his airway and pulled it away causing him to drop to the ground. Link sucked in a grateful breath before he got swiftly to his feet again and scanned the alley for the last man but he was nowhere to be seen. That would be a problem. He didn’t dwell on it too long before he spun around hands raised and magic flaring to face the others and saw that the remaining men had already been taken care of. The scuffle had barely lasted a minute, which he had to admit was impressive. He had not expected them to hold their own so well. He blinked, letting his hands fall to his sides as he looked at each of the odd travelers in turn. They all looked okay for the most part besides some bruises and the one slice on the feral man’s throat.

“Who are you people? There’s no way you’re from around here and I doubt you’re nobility from a surrounding Kingdom,” He asked quickly as he moved forwards and began unclasping the cloaks from around the unconscious men on the ground.

“Nobility?” The one with the fur pelt choked out and Link watched as he smacked the man with the armor on the arm. The man with the armor let out a deep laugh of his own and Link felt like he was being made fun of. He pointedly ignored them and turned back to the task at hand.

He had a hard time getting the cloak off one of the downed men and he shot a look up to the man with the white cape and gestured for him to help. He seemed to know what Link wanted and he hurried forward and helped pull the cloaks free from both of the unconscious thugs.

“Uh we are, well it’s sort of a long story,” The man in the white cape said and offered him a small smile. Link eyed him up and down and threw the cloak at him.

“Put this on,” he said quickly before he turned to the other man with the fancy armor and repeated the action.

“You too, you guys stick out like a sore thumb.” He said as he dusted the dirt off his pants and eyed the last man. Blood was collecting around his collar, and he seemed a bit pale around the eyes, though he was putting in a good effort at hiding his discomfort. Link moved forward and grabbed at his water skin and handed it over to him.

“Are you alright? You look a little pale,” Link asked as he moved a bit closer to get a better look at the cut on his throat.

“I’ll be alright, thank you for the assist,” He said in between gulps of water. Link nodded towards him and turned to face the others.

“Quickly now, explain,” He snapped and waited impatiently for the answer.

“Quick answer is that we are the Heroes of Hyrule from the past and future on a mission from Hylia. We don’t know exactly what the mission is yet but we assume, at this moment we are looking for the hero of this era, or at least that is what the sword on Sky’s back says.” The man with the odd markings said quickly as he pulled the hood over his head and crossed his arms. Link didn’t know what to say to that information, and honestly he was not expecting that whopper of a tale.

They were looking for the hero, to join a quest that they didn’t even know all the details for? Why? His mind was filled with a whirlwind of questions and he didn’t even know where to start. One thing was for sure though, this whole thing reeked of a trap in the making and he wasn’t liking the idea of joining. Not without more information first and even then that was still debatable. He opened and closed his mouth for a moment as he tried to figure out just what he wanted to ask first.

“Who is Sky?” Link shook his head, out of all the questions that was the one he asked first? The three other’s blinked and looked at each other. Clearly they hadn’t been thinking about that question either.

“Oh, uh, well my name is Sky“ The one with the white cape answered. Then he pointed to the armored man, “his name is Time and that,” He said with a quick gesture to the man with the pelt, “...Is Twilight.” He finished and each of them gave him a nod as confirmation.

“Those are strange names, but we really don’t have time for that now. We have to get out of here. You guys have drawn way too much attention to yourselves,” Link said curtly as he jogged to the opening of the alley and peered around the corner. He didn’t see anyone actively looking for them but he was sure that wouldn’t last long.

He eyed the cart of cloaks next to the alley way and snagged a dark green cloak from the rack. He paused and dug through his meager rupee pouch and tossed what he hoped would be enough on the counter top. He was loathed to steal anything from the townsfolk. They were all struggling and he rather himself missed a few meals than have the shop keep suffering for his selfish choice.

He jogged back to the group and tossed the newly dubbed Twilight the cloak. He put it on without any prompting and drew the hood up around his head. Deeming them good enough to sneak out he gestured for them to follow and they made their way back to the lane.

“Slouch your shoulders and stop looking around so much,” Link hissed to them as they hurried their way to the town’s gate. Even with the cloaks it still appeared that they stuck out. They stood too tall, walked with a gate that spoke of authority and were all together too curious.

“Honestly you’re supposed to be heroes. Didn’t you have to, I don’t know, blend in? Sneak around? At least be the slightest bit aware of your surroundings?” Link grumbled as he physically grabbed Sky’s hood and forced him to look down.

“Who are you? Why are you so keen to help us?” Twilight grumbled from behind them and Link spared him a look.

“Just a hermit, a traveler if you will. I just… Don’t like the idea that Brutus’s goons were going after more people is all,” It wasn’t completely a lie, he reasoned as he bowed his head a bit lower. He could feel the stares on him and it made him nervous. He didn’t like all the attention on him. Tugging his cloak tighter around him he stepped up his pace and didn’t look back.

Finally the town gate was in sight and Link could have skipped with joy. They were nearly there, just a few more yards and they could put the town behind them and then he could slip away and be done with this mess.

“Oh HERO, where do you think you’re going?” A heavy voice called after him and Link stiffened before slowing to a stop. He bent his head forward as he heard the rag tag group stop as well, and turned to look at him. He closed his eyes for a moment before he straightened and turned to face the much larger man.

“Brutus,” He said in a clipped tone, pointedly ignoring the stares of the others that were now boring into him. So much for keeping who he was a secret. Brutus sauntered towards him and Link took a slow step back, making sure to give himself enough room to work. Brutus, unlike the thin and hard eyed townsfolk, was a burly man. He was clearly well fed and used to getting what he wanted and it stuck in Link’s craw. He had risen to infamy in the town about a year ago after he managed to usurp the other more prominent gang that had once called this little town their own. Ever since then he had made it a point to show off at any chance he got. He would strut around in blood red cloaks and demand the merchants give him whatever he wanted. The few that had fought back were found dead in their beds the next day.

Link had kept his eye on him since then, and had only allowed Brutus to remain when the townsfolk practically begged him to stay out of the situation. It had bothered him greatly but no matter how much he tried to change their minds he was always told to stay out of it. So he had respected their wishes, but had made it a point that whenever he was in town he would pay more rupees for goods as well as cause trouble to the thugs when he saw them bullying the merchants. Naturally this had garnered Brutus’s attention and they had their fair share of scuffles and earned a bounty on his head.

“Did you ever find that tooth of yours?” Link asked casually and was graced with a sneer. Even from this distance he could see the black hole where one of Brutus’s front teeth had once been. Link felt a smile creep unbidden across his face. He remembered the scuffle fondly, even though he got a knife to the ribs he had still gotten his fair share of hits in.

“I still owe you for that. I think your head would be a fair trade off,” Brutus said and Link let out a belly laugh.

“I would love to see you try,” He scoffed, pleased at the red flush that colored the larger man’s cheeks. He really shouldn’t be snarking off at the brute, but he found he couldn’t help it. The man annoyed him and he could do with a knocking down of a few pegs.

“Sadly today is not the day Brutus, I have things to attend to,” Link dismissed and turned to usher the others who were staring at him wide eyed. He offered them a nod and began to stride away when he heard footsteps running up behind him. Sensing danger, Link ducked and felt the wind of a sword swipe over top of his head. Before he could turn around he heard the screech of metal screeching against metal and he turned around to see a green cloak blocking his view of the larger man. He stood quickly and looked on in amazement as the feral man, Twilight snarled and pushed back against Brutus’s sword with his own.

“How dare you, attacking when your opponent's back is turned,” Twilight snarled and forced the man back a few steps before breaking his sword away from where it was locked with Brutus’s.

“What is the runt to you? Some sort of bastard child of yours?” Brutus snarled and Link could see the way Twilight bristled at the insult.

“He is the hero of Hyrule, show some respect,” Twilight growled and Brutus squinted his eyes.

“Respect for that pitiful waste? He should feel honored to be in my presence!” Brutus said as he brandished his sword once again. Twilight readied his own blade, ready to go on the attack once more but this time Link was the faster one. He stepped smoothly in front of Twilight and with power booming through his veins summoned one of his more powerful spells. There were bursts of white hot light and the smell of fresh ozone as the bolts of lightning thundered around the brute effectively breaking up the scuffle. Link grit his teeth and continued the barrage until Brutus made a hasty retreat as the bolts continued to strike the browned earth around him.

“Enough!” Link shouted as he let the magic go, satisfied with the distance he created between Brutus and the others. He straightened and let his hand fall. He could taste the copper tang of electricity that still hung in the air around him. He felt slightly breathless at the display he had just released and he worked on steadying his breaths. He could feel a tremor starting to build in his muscles and he clutched his hands in order to slow the trembling that was building in his arms before he addressed the other man. It wouldn’t do to show weakness now, not with so many eyes on him.

“Please, Brutus, I don’t wish to harm you, but I will if I must. Go now and leave us be,” Link called out to the hulking brute and threw a gesture out to the group behind him, signaling them to continue on. Link placed a hand on Twilight’s shoulder and squeezed until the other hero sheathed his sword and stalked away to follow the others. He held Brutus’s wide eyed, terrified gaze and couldn’t stop the pang of guilt that zinged through his heart. He didn’t care for the man but that didn’t mean he wanted the other dead, even if the feeling wasn’t shared. He let his eyes fall away from him and turned to follow the others out of town. He could hear stuttered insults and threats coming from behind him but he paid them no mind.

Link worked at keeping his gait steady as he made to catch up with the three others. He had really used too much magic just then but he didn’t want to show it. He could feel the tell tale ache in his muscles that spoke of the strain he just put on his magic stores and he hoped that it wasn’t too obvious. As it was, Link barely noticed that the others had slowed to a stop to wait for him until he almost ran into them. He could feel their eyes on him and he struggled not to look away.

“Were you really going to strike that man with lightning?” The man named Time asked him incredulously as he pulled his hood down. Link grimaced and shook his head slowly, inwardly wincing at the poor impression he must have given them.

“And waste my magic on a thug like Brutus? It’s not worth my time. Now put your hood back on and let’s get out of here. There are too many eyes watching us still and they will follow. We have to lose them.” Link said as he tried his best to play off the question and keep the others moving. He didn’t look behind him to check if they were following, choosing to trust that they would.

They walked for a little while until Link found a cave that he deemed hidden enough to make sure no one from the small town would find them and made a small fire to rest by. Link watched as the other three men removed their cloaks and settled down for the night. He still hadn’t removed his own, not wanted to get too comfortable in case this all turned out to be an elaborate trick.

“So I suppose you have questions, where would you like to start?” Link asked after everyone had sat for a little while. He looked at them all in turn and waited for someone to ask the question he was sure to be coming.

“The man from the town said you were the hero, is this true?” Time asked as he held Link’s gaze.

“That is correct, I am the hero,” Link answered in the affirmative and waited.

“Well that makes things easier,” Sky said happily as he pulled the bread he had bought from the merchant in town. Link felt his stomach twist painfully at the scent and he prayed that his stomach wouldn’t growl. He watched as the other man ripped off a large piece and offered it to him. Link blinked in surprise, no one had ever tried to share food with him.

“But that’s, no I couldn’t,” Link stammered out quickly even as his stomach growled angrily at his own refusal of the proffered meal. Sky offered him a warm smile and only continued to hold the bread out to him.

“Don’t be silly! There is more than enough to go around, and after you helped us out in that alley it is the least we can do,” He said and to Link’s surprise the other two nodded before offering him provisions from their own packs. Link could feel his mouth water at the promise of more food and he could feel the tremors from over exertion beginning to ramp up. He forced himself to breathe and shuffled back a little.

“Honestly, I’m fine,” He said stubbornly, still refusing the food that he was offered. He couldn’t trust it, he had learned long ago to never accept gifts from strangers and as much as he wanted to he had to be strong now.

“Please, continue with your questions,” He said pointedly and watched as they slowly put their food away.

“Alright, please let me know if this is rude but I must know, what happened to the land? It looks rather…” Sky trailed off and Link nodded, there it was. He knew it would come up eventually. He could guess by their full cheeks and general healthy appearance that they probably didn’t have to go many days without a meal.

“This land, these people, have been through a lot as you might have guessed. We are still trying to get back on our feet so to speak. Gannon and his followers have not been kind.” Link said slowly and found that he had a hard time lifting his eyes away from his hands that were knitted tightly in his lap. He didn’t want to see the looks on their faces. If what they said was true, and they were heroes from Hyrule at different points in time they must be ashamed of what had been done to this land. He swallowed down the lump in his throat and raised his eyes to meet theirs.

“We are a strong people, we will be okay and the land will heal.” He said firmly, lifting his head in defiance. He was startled at the sudden wave of anger that was washing through him. He could only imagine what they were thinking. Disappointment, disgust maybe even shame for what he had allowed to happen to their home. Well they could think what they will, he loved this land he called home, no matter it’s flaws and scars. There was still beauty to be found here, tucked away in corners and hiding in plain sight, all you had to do was look. Even now Link could see the land healing, growing and thriving despite the harm done to it.

“I have no doubt in your abilities and the strength of these people to grow and thrive. The strength and resolve in your voice is conviction enough and I know you will succeed.” Time said from his place by the fire and was joined by proud smiles and nods from the other two. Link felt a smile creep onto his face, he felt honored in a way. Even if this proved to be some elaborate trap in the making he was willing to accept their compliments.

“I am curious, you say you are heroes from other eras. Tell me how did you get here?” Link asked, crossing his arms over his chest and waited.

“A portal brought us here,” Sky answered and continued quickly, apparently knowing what Link was about to ask next. “And no, we don’t truly know why we are here besides knowing that we needed to find the hero of this time. Though we have noticed one common factor.” He said, glancing at the two men he sat beside.

“That being?” Link prompted, and watched as the three of them shared a brief nod.

“That being a rise in monster activity,” Sky said slowly and Link felt his eyebrow beginning to rise despite himself.

“That’s it? That’s all you have?” He asked incredulously and was graced with shrugs and half hearted ‘yeahs’.

“There has to be more than that,” He said and was once again met with more shrugs.

“Unfortunately that’s all we have,” Twilight said as he rubbed the back of his neck. Link couldn’t help it, he let out a disbelieving snort before he could stop himself.

“And you want me to join? You guys can see how suspicious this sounds right? What makes you think I’m going to join this, whatever this is just because there’s slightly more monsters about?” Link asked and this time was met with a rueful smile spreading across Sky’s face.

“I don’t think you’ll have a choice in that matter. I saw that portal for a week straight and refused to go through it until finally, kind of just… Pulled me in,” Sky said and Link felt himself slump against the wall of the cave suddenly very tired. He pressed his fingers against his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. This whole situation made him want to sleep for the next century, though he couldn’t deny he was the least bit curious to see what new places he would discover. After a moment he let out a sigh and opened his eyes.

“Alright, I guess I’ll need a name. I assume Link won’t cut it considering you all have nicknames,” Link said and judging on the looks he was getting he knew he was right. He watched as Sky leaned back and tilted his head to the side as if he were listening to something. After a second he gave a nod and smiled warmly at him.

“Looks like your name is Hyrule. Welcome to the fold.” Sky said with a chuckle and stretched his hand out for him to shake. He eyed the hand thoughtfully before taking it and felt a tingle of magic flood through the contact. He pulled his hand away quickly and stared at his palm expecting to see a mark left behind on his hand but saw nothing. He wiped the feeling away on his tunic and nodded slowly.

“Now that that is out of the way, I think we need to get something out of the way,” Twilight said and Link offered him a quizzical stare. Twilight dug through his pack and once again offered him some of his food.

“Eat, I know you’re hungry. Don’t try to deny it.” He said sternly and this time Hyrule accepted the offer, though he didn’t take a bite until Twilight gave him a knowing look and took a bite of his own food. The others were quick to pull out their own meals then and they all tucked into their dinner in silence, all of them lost in thought. He chewed the bread and didn’t miss how both Time and Sky were quick to share their own meals with him. This time he accepted the offers gratefully, he didn’t want to admit it to the others but he was starving. They ate in peace for a while and even though he knew he probably wasn’t going to sleep tonight he had to admit it was nice to share a meal with others for once.

#linked universe #hyrule linked universe #the chain meets #twilight linked universe #time linked universe #sky linked universe #linkeduniverse #bad ass hyrule #the sheikah writes #legend of zelda #linked universe fanfic #my fanfic writing

122 notes · View notes

roro-mo · 4 years ago

Text

Love can wait

Hi all,

i posted this fanfic on fan fiction.net in the New Year and thought I should share this on tumblr for those who are looking for more ZoNa, just like me. You can find this here.

This was one of my first fanfics but I haven’t updated the story in like forever so am looking to go back to writing fanfics. Hopefully, you’ll enjoy the chapter as much as I did.

You don’t need to read the other chapters as they are not really connected - sort of. We haven’t entered the main plot at all so not connected as of yet. But reading chapter 6 may help you understand some of the things in this chapter.

Summary: What if Zoro and Nami were childhood friends? How different would their lives be? Lot's of one shots set in an AU where Zoro and Nami are childhood friends. Mugiwara crew will also make an appearance. (It’s one of those close balcony friendship - cringe i know lmao, was young when I started LOL)

Rated: M (just to be safe)

Disclaimer: One piece is not mine.

Also, Italics are what the characters are thinking.

Zoro was completing his usual workout, but from home. He groaned, lifting the 15 kg weights for the 96th time. He needed to lift the weights 4 more times and he had to do it soon or Nami was going to barge in, ruining his schedule.

"97...98...99" he counted. He was lifting it for the last time when he smelt her signature fragrance.

"100" he grunted, dropping the weights and closing his eyes in peace. He felt her soft bosom on his back and her arms around him, as she completely pushed her body against him.

A single trail of sweat dropped from his temple to his cheek from the work out. He was too tired to push her away so he stood still, just breathing in and out to stabilise his heartbeat. However, this proved to be difficult as he could only smell her with every breath, and felt her soft small hands on his abs...wait... did he just feel her hands underneath his shirt?

"What the hell witch?" he spat, as his hands automatically stopped hers from outside of his shirt.

Nami was a flirt and loved teasing men, especially Zoro. She loved taking advantage of her beauty and loved getting her way. It was either her way or the highway. She was a greedy witch and she loved every part about it.

"Zoroooo" she said with a tone, a tone Zoro knew too well. It was a tone she used to get her way. A tone that often worked in nosebleed kun, which was not going to work on him.

"Seriously, what are you doing Nami?" he said, turning his head slightly to see what Nami was up to.

"I'm helping you remove your top." She said trying to move her hands, which was useless as Zoro clutched onto them.

"What do you want?"

"To eat." Nami said cheerfully. Today both their parents were out drinking while Nojiko was at university so it was only him and her. But their parents trusted them, hell they even encouraged to utilise their alone time and do something naughty. Nami's stepfather, Genzo, loved Zoro's wisdom and the way he respected elders. He would want nothing but for Zoro to take his no good spoilt daughter as his wife. While Zoro's father loved having Nami around and would be happy if someone, anyone could accept his muscle idiot of a son.

"And what does eating have anything to do with getting naked?" Zoro said with an eyebrow.

She withdrew her hand from underneath his t-shirt, away from his well built abs. Zoro was saddened at the departure of her warmth but was glad at the same time.

She pinched her nose, "well you kinda stink."

"Hurry and go take a shower. We are going to Baratie." she said, folding her arms, knowing Zoro was going to complain about meeting Sanji-kun.

"Baratie?" Zoro said, his voice slightly louder than he intended it to.

"Yes Baratie, Zoro, Baratie" Nami repeated it twice for her words to reach Zoro's head.

"We will be meeting up with Luffy there as well. Have a nice dinner and drink something nice. Well, Luffy won't. But we can." she said, making drinking gestures.

Zoro liked the idea of drinking with Nami. Maybe, they could resume their ongoing bet as well. Their bet of who can withstand drinks longer was still on hold as they either tie or come out drunk at the end of it. But seeing that shit head took the fun out of it.

He turned around, wiping his forehead clean with his left arm, showing off his biceps in the process. Nami's eyes fluttered to his biceps, enjoying the view he presented her.

"Will we see nosebleed kun as well?" he asked.

She made a face, "who is nosebleed kun? Don't make fun of Sanji kun." She said slapping his chest. Just to feel how hard it was and oh, it was hard.

"Just answer the damn question." he said, removing his top in front of her. His whole body seemed to be living as Nami could see each and every muscle in his body ripple against his skin whilst he removed his t-shirt. His nipples whispered hello to her and oh god, his abs. She trailed a single sweat that dropped from his neck, which made its way between his collar bone, past his chest, crossed his abs and disappeared in his belly button

"like what you see?" He said smirking at how fixated she was with his abs.

She quickly looked up to see him smirking at her, with that stupid grin. She was not gonna let him be the only winner.

"Nope, not at all." she said turning, throwing her hair to his face in the process, and moving towards the door. Zoro closed his eyes naturally and as he opened his eyes to shout some vain remarks to Nami, all he saw was her ass and hips moving side to side towards the door. She didn't need to say anything because she knew he was already looking.

"Be ready by 5 and come over as soon as you're ready." She said before leaving the room completely.

"Oh and invite law." she said with a wink.

///////////

Zoro was ready in 10 mins. He put on a simple white top, jeans and a simple black denim jacket. He looked over his balcony to the other side with a frown.

She is definitely still getting ready.

He went over anyways to pressure her into getting ready quicker, only to find her putting on a skirt that didn't fit. Zoro could see the plumps of skin near the waist of the skirt and her ass as she was struggling to put it on. She was wearing a pink lace thong that illuminated the pale skin underneath. His shameful eyes drank the scene in front of him; her buns juggled as she shook her ass to try to fit the skirt. Damn, that is one big ass, he thought. His hands twitched to slap her right cheek but he shook the thoughts away.

"I don't think that fits Nami." He spoke in a low husky voice.

His voice surprised her, causing her to trip over herself and lose her balance, falling face forward. As a result, her ass was high up in the air and Nami put herself on display for him. He choked on his own spit at the scene in front of her. And that thong was not helping, it practically covered nothing with her ass high up for him to see.

With a tint of blush, he turned around to give her privacy.

"What the hell Zoro!" she turned her head from the ground and was relieved when she found him facing the other way.

She got up and got rid of the skirt. The skirt was velvet and in the colour red. It was short enough to show her smooth legs and just long enough to cover the important parts. Although the skirt didn't fit her, she got it on a 80% sale and her first instinct was to buy it. It was a bargain and was the last piece after all! It's a shame it doesn't fit as it would definitely look good on her.

She was dressed casual for today and was wearing a white cami top with lace detailed front. She was going to wear that velvet skirt with it but decided to replace it with high waisted ripped jeans. She felt a bit exposed after Zoro found her in her thong trying to wear a skirt that didn't fit! So she decided to go with something that would cover her legs.

"Just so you know," she said putting one leg through her jeans, "I'm charging you for that." She said putting the other leg in.

"What the hell witch!" he complained.

"How dare you walk in here and try to see me naked. I didn't peg you to be a Sanji, Zoro." She said walking towards her makeup table to brush her hair. Sanji is a term they use as an inner joke to call men who basically, well, act like Sanji-kun.

After what seemed to be an appropriate time to Zoro, he turned around to state his dissatisfaction.

"Well, it's not my fault you're not ready yet. You're the one who told me to hurry and now you're the one who's not ready. How is it my fault that you're still getting dressed after an hour?"

"You tell me to come over and now, you tell me not to come over, make up your damn mind witch." He said with a frown.

"Zorrroooo, I'm a woman. I'm allowed to take time to look my best." She said in a haughty manner.

She stood up, happy with her hair and turned to him.

"This," she said waving at her body, "doesn't happen overnight. It takes me time to look this good."

He just scoffed. Although he wanted to disagree and say she wasn't all the hotshot she thought she was, he didn't want to make her change clothes, which is something she would do if he disagreed.

He went to sit on her bed and complained that she was slow again.

"Did you call Torao-kun?" She asked reapplying her lipstick one final time. She checked her makeup once more before spraying her setting spray.

"Yes woman, yes, I called your ride." He said with a displeased voice.

Zoro met Law as a child in a kendo club. He was 5 and Law was 10. Zoro was always working hard and stayed behind every time to train harder. He muttered about getting stronger and this piqued Trafalgar D. Water Law's interest in the little boy. Law always teased Zoro for being a little boy yet having big "goals", to which Zoro always challenged Law and they somehow ended in a draw everytime. After leaving the kendo club, Zoro was still close with Law and had been together in every stage of each other's life. Nami and Luffy met Law only after an incident that required Luffy to visit the hospital.

Luffy unfortunately amputated his pinky finger from one of his stupid antics. Nami freaked out so much that she almost fainted when she heard the pinky land on her bedroom floor with a tap. Zoro fortunately knew Law who was a medical student. Law was from a family of doctors and his dream was always to follow his father's footsteps. He would spend hours reading on human anatomy and diseases when he was a child. Law was very smart as a child and eventually skipped grades before he entered medical school.

Zoro remembered law immediately and asked him for first aid through the phone. As they both sounded so distressed over the phone, Law asked them to visit his hospital where he was working as a placement. Zoro and Nami rushed Luffy to the hospital while Luffy was wailing and sobbing about his missing finger. Law helped Luffy calm down and proceeded to ask routine questions about the incident before helping to reattach his finger with surgeons (one of them being his dad). Thankfully, it was a success due to the first aid Law provided. Law was so surprised at how Luffy severed his finger, somewhere along the line due to his interests in Luffy's case, he became Torao and Luffy's friend without his approval. All he said was "so how did you cut your finger?" And Luffy hasn't left him alone since then. Nami thinks it's because Luffy was hysteric over his cut pinky and thanked Torao for (in Luffy's term) "saving his life."

Oh but Zoro knew. He's been with Law for a very long time and they grew up together after all. Zoro knew that wasn't the reason why Law still hangs around Luffy and Nami, and sometimes without Zoro. He's seen the stolen glances and the way law looks at Nami. Law wouldn't be wasting his time to drive them to Barati if he didn't fancy her.

A car honk was heard from outside of Nami's window. Zoro didn't miss the small smile that crawled on Nami's face and wore an annoyed look on his own. Nami sprinted out to her balcony and waved at her older friend.

She turned around and said "let's go!"

Zoro followed her with heavy footsteps. But he still followed her, he was compliant every time and he didn't know why.

As they got nearer to the parked car, Law lowered his passenger window and Nami leaned in on the opened window, revealing her cleavage to the driver. Zoro grimaced, acutely aware of what she was doing. Nami smiled and whispered a sweet 'thank you'.

That's when it hit Zoro. This witch knew. She knew Law had a thing for her and was using him like a Sanji.

Law's eyes followed the top that slightly slid down as Nami leaned over and settled at the cleavage that revealed itself to him. Law smiled in response and gestured Nami to get in the car. To save Law's dignity, Zoro shoved Nami aside and got in the front seat.

"Hey, what the hell?" She asked, ticked off at Zoro's actions.

"Sit at the back." he said gesturing behind him to the back seat.

She pouted because now she would have to sit alone at the back but got in anyways as she was hungry.

Baratie was a beautiful and a fancy restaurant owned by Chef Zeff, who Sanji admires and sees as a father figure.

Upon arrival, they were greeted by a well-lit restaurant with full-length windows around the whole restaurant for natural light. At night, the bulbs that hung on the ceiling were lit in different colours - purple, red, yellow, all creating beautiful lighting during the night. The wall was painted an elegant white, which matched well with the light pink velvet carpet on the floor. In the centre of the restaurant, one could find stairs leading down to the kitchen and up for more seating.

The receptionist recognised the distinct hair colours of Sanji's friends and she didn't even have to ask them about their reservation. She welcomed them and took them straight to the table reserved for "Sanji's queen" as was directed by Sanji in the morning.

"Here are the menus."

She didn't recognise the guy with the tattoos but proceeded to ask the other two whether they would like to order the same as usual.

Nami closed her menu and sweetly smiled before nodding her head. Her usual at the Baratie was a medium steak with chips and red wine, while Zoro's was a signature bacon burger with melted cheese and chips. Law read through a couple of pages before ordering a classic carbonara with white wine. She nodded before proceeding to head towards the kitchen.

Nami was sitting across Zoro and Law was sitting in between them. Zoro saw Nami looking around and guessed she was looking for Sanji.

"Where's Luffy? I thought we were supposed to meet him here." Zoro asked Nami. Nami finally looked at Zoro, he doesn't know why but it felt like she hasn't looked his way today at all. Frankly speaking, Nami was too embarrassed to look at Zoro after the whole thong incident.

With her cheek on her palm, she responded "You'll see him soon enough! He was supposed to come with us but he said he'll already be here by the time we arrive."

Zoro munched on some garlic bread and asked, "Where's nosebleed Kun?"

"Who's nosebleed kun?" Law asked as he didn't remember anyone who was called that.

"Yes, Zoro, who is nosebleed kun?" Nami asked sarcastically, tilting her head to the side.

As if Sanji heard her, he came running with the drinks while singing "Nammmiiiii-swannnnn!"

"My love, my body has been waiting this whole day for this moment." Sanji said, skilfully twirling towards her, without dropping any of the drinks on his way.

"Ah, Sanji kun!" she said clapping her hands together.

"Here you go mademoiselle, one red wine." He said, kneeling down for her.

"Hey, where's my drink?" Law questioned, but it was completely ignored by Sanji.

"Thank you." Nami said lifting her hand gracefully and touching Sanji's cheek.

"I missed you so much." She cooed.

"I can't wait to eat the food your very hands made." she said touching his hands now.

"Namiii-swannn, I know our love was meant to be. For you, I've cooked only the finest and delicious food."

"Ahhh, but I don't have enough money to pay for the finest meals in your restaurant." She said with an act.

"And it's all free for you Nami-swan." Sanji said holding Nami's hand on his and lifting it lightly to kiss her hand.

She giggled.

"Great thank you, expected nothing less from you, Sanji-kun." She said rubbing his chin before looking at the two pairs of eyes watching her in shock.

"You're going to hell." Zoro stated.

"And you, how can you be so dumb you idiot cook."

"It's not free for you shitheads. You guys have to pay." Sanji said to the boys coming out of his love trance.

"Nami-ya, if you can't pay for it then I will pay for you. You don't need to resort to such...err…" His words died on his lips when she sent an angry look directed at him.

"No, thank you law. You guys owe me money, not the other way around. I don't mind a free meal but I don't want to owe you." She said in a pompous manner.

If this was a cartoon, Zoro's eyes would've literally come out of their sockets.

"How in the world is it any different to what you're doing to nosebleed kun?" Zoro said facepalming.

He could hear the 'ohhh, he's nosebleed kun' on the background as law finally put two and two together.

After handing out the drinks including Law's and Zoro's, Sanji lit his cigarette and looked at the tattooed man before him.

"Who the hell are you and why are you calling Nami-swan without honorifics you shithead?" He said, trying to intimidate law.

"Now now, calm down Sanji-kun. He's a friend." Nami introduced Law to Sanji and vice versa.

"By the way, Sanji-kun, do you know where Luffy is?"

"Oh, you didn't know? He's working with us to pay for his tab because he's a big eater." Sanji said taking another puff.

"Are waiters allowed to smoke here? What a terrible service this restaurant has." Law said as a little bit of jealousy stung him when he saw how close Nami was with this "nosebleed kun".

"Huhhhh, what did you say you tattooed shit head. Don't think I'll be intimidated by the word death tattooed on your dainty little fingers." Sanji said rolling his sleeves.

"Oh boy" Nami shook her head.

"He's a chef, not a waiter and yes, why are you waiting our table you idiot. Go back to the kitchen. I don't want to see your face, shitty cook." Zoro said crossing his arms.

"You asshole, you wanna fight. I'll take both of you on." Sanji said making a commotion on his restaurant, causing many customers to look his way now.

Once the customers started whispering about Nami's table, Patty, the rowdy chef in charge of Sanji, came out stomping his feet.

"What are you doing here Sanji? You should be inside the kitchen. You're making a fuss and disturbing other customers." He practically screamed at Sanji, making things only worse.

"Now come apologise." Patty pulled Sanji and apologised to others by bowing to the customers and forced his neck to bow as well.

As Sanji and Patty were apologising to everyone, a corner table got Nami's attention when both the customers started acting a little strange. Zoro, on the other hand, was watching Nami instead during the commotion and had seen the table that caught Nami's attention. Nami's attention was then taken away from said table by Luffy.

"Oiiii Namiiiiii, everyone, you guys made it." Luffy said cheerfully while waving his arms.

Nami's eyes widen in shock, "Luffy be careful, you're carrying a lot of food, it might all come ….."

Before she could finish the sentence, she heard a loud noise which now caught everyone's attention in the restaurant.

Luffy lost his balance and dropped all the plates of food he was carrying.

"Luffy you bastard, that better not be Nami-swan's food." Sanji said walking towards him.

Patty just screamed, knowing it was the wrong decision to hire Luffy as a chore boy. They were losing more money than making money!

Law was quiet as he watched the scene unfold before him. Sanji was beating Luffy and Patty was beating Sanji while Luffy just cried and said "shumimashe". But if it is one thing Law knows about Luffy, it is that wherever Luffy goes, trouble always seem to follow him.

Nami sighed. Great, yet another perfect day, well night, wasted. She thought.

She moaned as she got up from her seat, she was tired of the same shit happening each time they went out together. Before she could walk away, Zoro's question stopped Nami on her tracks.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"For fresh air and away from these idiots." She said pointing at the two chefs and Luffy who was also beginning to fight back after shouting "I didn't want to work as well." on the top of his lungs.

Oh but Zoro knew. He knew where she was going, he had watched her the whole day after all.

He watched her as she walked past the trio, who were still arguing about the wasted food, and saw the path she was taking. She was planning to go towards the back door, which leads to Baratie's beautiful garden where one could enjoy food and nature together. But the table that caught her eye earlier was on her way as well.

That clever witch.

She walked towards the back door, her waist moving from left to right and then finally stopped when she was next to the table in question. He watched her as she turned her head towards the table, as if someone called her name and saw the smile that creeped on her face. As soon as she looked at the table, the two people visibly jumped and looked towards the window, avoiding Nami's gaze. To their dismay, Nami started walking towards their table.

Zoro chuckled and Law made a mental note never to go anywhere with these psychos. Two were still arguing in front of him, his food all spilled on the floor, and his friend was laughing at the sight like a psycho. Psychos, they're all psychos!

Zoro got up to follow Nami. He started to become extremely curious and wanted to know who Nami found sitting at the table.

"Well, well, well." Nami said hand on her hip.

"Isn't this a beautiful surprise." She said looking at the couple in front of her, their date apparently interrupted.

In front of her sat the student counselor, Nico Robin and Zoro's home room teacher, Cutty Flam, also known as Franky. Franky was hiding behind the menu while Robin nervously laughed.

Zoro's jaw dropped as soon as he caught up to Nami. "Franky, what the hell are you doing here and why are you with herrr!?"

Although Franky was a teacher and should have authority over his students, he often behaved like his students and was seen as a friend rather than a teacher by his pupil. He was always seen hanging around his students and giving life lessons to kids in school.

"So what is this, a first date or perhaps, a proposal?" Nami asked, walking towards the table, trying to work out whether this was a serious relationship.

Robin finally processed all the information and her brain switched on. She picked up her wine slowly and brought it to her lips. She was thinking of numerous ways to play this and was planning her next move. She finally smiled and held Franky's hand that was on the table.

"Yes, we are on a date," She smiled, "aren't you both as well?" She asked softly, her smile provoking Nami further.

Robin knew how gutless Nami was when it came to Zoro. Robin knew Nami could charm the whole world, yet she could not charm Zoro, with whom she's spent all her life with. Zoro was the only man that didn't fall under her spell and it ticked off Nami to her bones. Robin knew that and while Nami waits to make her move, Robin already made hers and was proudly showing off her results to Nami.

Nami frowned, recalling their first meeting. This was Robin's win.*

Nami also reached out to grab Zoro's hands before responding, "Whatever we do is none of your business." Nami did not want to disclose any information and give Robin the satisfaction of knowing whether they were going out or not.

"Let's go Zoro." Nami demanded and walked the other way, back to their table. Zoro didn't have much of a choice as she was still grasping his hand and pulled him towards her.

"Hey, where are you going? I thought you wanted fresh air!" Zoro asked while following Nami.

Nami turned around to face him. She was exhausted; she just got defeated in the battle of wits with Robin and she was hungry! She was hungry and all she wanted to do was eat and drink. She looked at Luffy who was now planning on quitting the job as a chore boy. She wanted to get away, away from all the drama and just eat, something, anything. Just as she was about to suggest going elsewhere for food, as if Zoro read her mind, Zoro asked Nami, "Wanna ditch them and go to a bar for food and drinks?"

Nami has never been happier.

"But what about Law?"

"Screw him, he'll find his way back."

Nami was happy, extremely happy with where she was with Zoro. They are good friends and understand each other well. Sure, they argue from time to time but he (yes, I said he) will always compromise for her and isn't that what a relationship is all about. She has it all and she didn't want to lose what she has with what she could have. She would rather have him near her as a friend than lose him forever. So asking him out can wait just a little longer.

"Okay."

This time, it was his turn to pull her towards the exit of the restaurant. It was going to be just him and her, just the way it should be. And the rest can starve to death, for all Zoro cares.

"Zoro, that's the wrong way!"

"Damn, it!"

/////

* Reference to chapter 6.

Hope you enjoyed it.

Hope you have a good day/afternoon/evening/night. :)

#ZoNa #Fanfic #Zona fanfic #ZONAMI #Zonami fanfic #zoroxnami #namixzoro #One piece

24 notes · View notes

concealeddarkness13 · 3 years ago

Text

WHG 15 Post-Games Imposter Syndrome Part 15

Warning: there is blood in this one. The day after part 14! Tagging: @sparkles-and-hens, @knmartinshouldbewriting, @maple-writes (also thanks for Indigo Carmine!), @pen-of-roses, @thoughts-of-nora, and @ratracechronicler!

The day after Churi one-upped me, he made me go back to that same building. And the same old torture for a few hours until he just up and left, and they made me wait. For a few more hours. Did they think that would work? I actually liked being alone better than being with Capitol idiots.

My hands were still tied up, so I just leaned against the wall until the door opened, and none other than Indigo Carmine herself walked through the door, carrying a purse-sized bag. Oh joy.

I smirked over at her and stood up straight. “Ah, the infamous Indigo Carmine. It’s an honor to finally meet you. I would shake your hand, but I don’t want to get your hands dirty.” I waved my bloody, tied up hands.

She set her bag down by the wall and looked me up and down as she approached. I had to stop myself from tensing. “Churi really did a number on you didn’t he?”

I shrugged. Piece of shit. “Honestly, his attempts are pitiful.”

“Clearly.” She rolled her eyes. “Pitiful is putting it lightly. Can’t say I’ve known him long but he doesn’t seem to succeed very often now, does he?”

“Nah. I think I got to him this last session.” I leaned back against the wall. “That’s why you’re here, right?” I eyed the bag. It looked normal enough, but that didn’t mean anything. “What horrible abomination are you going to pull out of that bag to get me to cry and plead for mercy?”

A smile pulled at her lips. “You’re right about him needing backup, regardless of how willing he is to admit it.” She paused. “How long have you been here again?”

Did she really think I would answer that? I wouldn’t answer any of her fucking questions. I laughed lightly. “How long have any of us been here? Don’t be getting philosophical on me, or I’ll be calling you a psychologist next.”

“Long enough then.” I had to stop myself from laughing. Shit. She sighed. “Next question: have they fed you recently?”

Oh, now she was pretending she cared. How cute. I cocked my head. “The question is, have you eaten recently? You look worn down, Ms. Carmine. Are you doing okay? I know it must be hard to lose a former colleague to the Games.”

“You’re one to talk.” She gestured at me. Rude. “I’ll just have to check with Churi’s records, see if I can send you something.” Like I would do anything with a gift from her except burn it. “Has anyone explained what they want from you?”

Still wouldn’t answer. I was too stubborn. I shrugged. “I think you would know better than I would.”

She nodded. “I’m going to take that as a yes.” She smiled. “According to Churi the goal here is to break you. The way I see it, he’s doing a horrible job.”

And she thought she could? Well, she was more competent than Churi. It was a possibility. And she did her research too, from what I heard. This would be a challenge. But I wouldn’t let her see that. I looked her up and down. “And you are here to rectify that mistake, correct?”

She nodded. “That I am.” She walked back over to her bag and took out a file, which she opened and took out two pictures and held them out to me. I took one look and looked away quickly. Nesri and Shine. Of course. Shit. Churi had already talked about my crew, but this would be different. She had no qualms about killing those who got in her way. She spoke after giving me plenty of time to mull over the implications. “I’m guessing you know these two?”

I forced my smile to stay in place. “What if I do?” Shit.

She nodded. “You might have figured out already that they were, indeed, captured. Upon capture they were handed over to Churi.” She kept trying to make eye contact with me, and I kept looking away. Bastard woman. “I’m guessing you know what that means?”

I swallowed hard. “That they were handed over to an incompetent torturer?”

“If that’s what you truly believe.” She sighed dismissively. “Now, what I’m going to tell you I haven’t actually checked if I’m allowed to divulge but between you and me, they did manage to escape. Alive.”

Piece of shit. She was lying. My smile finally dropped. “And why would I believe you? If it was true, what would you have to gain from telling me that?”

“Good question.” That she didn’t answer. Which meant I really didn’t believe her. She glanced at the photos in her hand. “You need to understand that all they went through, that was with Churi. And I think you and I both know how he is, petty and egotistical. Does that sound right?”

I forced the smile back on my lips, and I cocked my head. “You’re both pretty similar in that regard, I would say.”

“Maybe. But there is one key difference.” What, that you like coffee and he likes tea? She looked up from the photos. “If I had been contracted instead of him they would be dead.” She held up Nesri’s photo between two fingers, and I glanced at it again before looking away. “I’ve heard she’s a lot like you. Defiant, stubborn, the lot. While Churi would waste his time on a losing battle I do not.” My hands clenched into fists involuntarily.

She held up Shine’s picture next. “This one seems smarter. If they decide to be agreeable I’m sure I could find someone who could use them. Maybe.” She set the photo down. “And I can tell you that if I were Churi I would not be wasting my time with you either.”

I concealed my anger and bowed a little. “I’m honored.”

She put the photos back up. “Now, personally I don’t care what happens to them. I’m not about to go chase them if I don’t have to.” She tucked the folder under her arm. “But since Churi has been unable to produce results from you there is a good chance Snow will soon turn to me if things don’t start improving.”

I nodded, clenching my fists tighter. Now that, I believed. And I wasn’t just going to let her get away with that, even if my own threat would pale in comparison. “Not to call you out on some of your BS, but Churi would never let you kill Nesri, and I think he has more clout with President Fucking Snow than you do.” I paused, glaring at her as my blood boiled. “And if you or your workers or your mutts lay a fucking hand on the rest of my crew, I will kill every last one of you.” Shit, it sounded so stupid, but I wasn’t going to just let her think that I wouldn’t fight back.

She cocked her head. “Are you sure about that? I know you did your homework Triel.” She turned and picked up her bag from the floor, slinging it over her shoulder. “I just thought I’d give you a fair warning. And I’ll have you know I don’t take orders from Churi.”

Blood was pooled on the floor, and it would be nice to surprise her at least. I activated my magic, formed some of the blood into a sharp point, and sent it to push against her neck enough to draw a little blood. “And all of you should have done your homework. Don’t leave me in a room with any kind of liquid.”

Indigo turned back to me with her eyebrows raised, and I felt a rush of satisfaction at the surprise in her eyes that she couldn’t cover up fast enough. “Do you really think you’re the first person to threaten me like that? Try harder next time.”

I wouldn’t be able to kill her without repercussions to my crew and the other tributes, so I just deactivated my magic and let the crystal fall to the floor at her feet. I flashed her double middle fingers and smirked, even though it might have been more of a snarl, honestly. “Joke’s on you, I didn’t even think that would work.”

“Lucky you.” She picked up the crystal, checked it out, and put it in her bag. Of course she’d do that, the bastard scientist. “Anything else you want me to know before I leave?”

I was feeling petty and childish right now. “Fuck you.”

Indigo nodded and turned to leave. “Noted.”

After the door closed behind her and I waited a few minutes, I yelled out my pent-up anger as a few tears fell. She would kill my crew if I didn’t cooperate, so how could I fight against that?

#tw: blood #writeblr hunger games #writeblr

5 notes · View notes

adhdvane · 3 years ago

Text

Talking about GW/U&F Under the Cut because it’s gunna be a long ramble

S here’s my rankings (I want to save these and post them in this entry for myself, I want to better keep track of how much I do so I can keep a log of how much stupid effort I end up putting into this godda.mn event each time to see how my progress goes) Individual:

i’m like both proud and dead (ignore dark team, this was fire favored but final rally zeus is light, so kill him with dark team). i could solo nm 100 just fine, like much better than pervious events, including the last wind gw in June 2020 (which does tell me hey, you’ve improved a lot on your fire team in the past year), it’s just soloing nm 100 took like ~10 minutes and required me paying attention. by day 3 burn out was real (despite there being no 24 hours interlude this year because of server issues delaying prelims, lol let me tell you when i went to check the prelims on my break to find out oops sorry we’re delaying prelims a day bc ppl had issues last night when we started at 3 am your time, rip). nm 95, you see, that i could make a full auto team for and just summon the devil and skill cast a couple of the skills click attack and then full auto, and ignore the game for like 4 to 4:40 minutes. so while i did do some nm 100 runs, i mostly defaulted to nm 95 (on another note i could 1 turn nm 90 with my break/od team bandit tycoon/5* tien/summer bea/5* zeta and so during prelims and round 1 that felt really good). on the one hand it hurts that i ignore my main fire set ups for favor a full auto team (rb/sieg/heles/izmir) but like how else do i survive doing that many godda.mn raids without total burn out (and i mean the only difference is playing relic buster instead of lumberjack so no using my prized ullikummi and swapping tien out for heles bc tien is less full auto friendly bc you don’t want her buff skill activating before her damage. also i mean it was nice to let heles get exp so i got her to lv 100 during the event bc i’d leveled her to 95 prior. she has some good damage nukes, and her additional atk/def down stackable meant coverage when sieg or izmir’s didn’t land properly). besides i still got to use my main fire set up and ullikummi when i did the nm 100 runs (look i love my fire ullikummi + lumberjack i will never shut up about how good it is and how happy i was i went through with it originally for a harp memeing only to discover WOW ITS JUST REALLY GOOD FOR MAINHAND PERIOD EVEN WITHOUT HARP MEMEING GRID). sure running nm 95 was. technically not optimal in terms of time/meat/tokens/honors but it was fckin optimal for my SANITY.

crew (day 4 at top - day 1 at bottom):

first of all slkdfsjk can’t believe i actually stayed above top 30,000. WOW THAT IS DEFINITELY A FIRST. third slkdjgsldf 3 of 4 won, one day i’ll get 4 of 4. tbh surprised i managed to win the last one (THE ONE AT THE TOP) (i was... i was raiding from 3 pm - 4:40 am it was bad... i wanted to hit the 400mil individual mark for the reward bc i was close and like it would suck if i was only a little bit away)... it did feel good to actually win some though, i haven’t had victories in a while because despite the fact every gw i was definitely getting more honors than i had the previous one it was getting harder to solo shit when i’m against crews with multiple ppl participating. (HELL LAST GW, THE WATER BOSSES, WAS THE FIRST TIME I ACTUALLY MANAGED TO GET BACK INTO FCKING MAKING THE SOLO C TIER AFTER SEVERAL GW WHERE IT DIDN’T HAPPEN BECAUSE THERE WAS A BIG LEAP IN HOW MANY HONORS THAT 36,000 CREW HAD AT THE BOTTOM. also like lol at work so i can’t really start doing prelims until i get home bc i decided i wanted sleep in the morning)

other:

:) oh boy a single sunlightstone shard that’s going to sit there forever and never do anything bc how the fck am i ever going to do this 10 times. draw box fcking 50 is what i’m on. it takes 10k to empty. i would need 8k more tokens. i would get 100 tokens per extra zeus run.... im not doing 80 more zeus runs... i’ll .... just have to hit “toke draw 100 times” 21 times to use the rest of the tokens which is annoying. i guess. AND NOW WE COME TO THE REASON WHY I PUT SO MUCH GODDAMN EFFORT INTO THIS GW. gbf is a bastard man that wants me to 5* the rest of the eternals (5 of them) before i can transcend shisu to 140 ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` ) i hate it. so in order to get enough rev weapons to work on my next 5* i needed to 36 box for fif (i have 1 fully uncapped copy of her rev from when i was initially going to have to recruit her normally but then seeds of redemption happened in 2020 and i got her free + 50 five-star fragments, since i already had a fully uncapped copy i thought fine she’ll go next bc less weapons needed and also i have one of every other element 5* so i wanted to do her or song either way. plus maybe if i can 5* her i can actually go do that gilbert quest lol). i WOULD HAVE LOVED TO BOXED NW QUARTZ. I WOULD HAVE LOVED TO HAVE BOXED NW QUARTZ AFTER I 36 BOXED HER. BUT I KNEW IF I DID THAT, I WAS PROBABLY GOING TO INEVITABLE HIT BOX 46 BC OF THE RATE I WAS GOING AND IT WOULD FORCE ME BACK TO REV STAFFS AND I’D END UP WITH EXTRA COPIES WHEN I COULD HAVE BEEN STARTING THE NEXT SET I NEED. so instead of boxing the quartz i wanted after i switch to harps and IT sUCK. also depending on if i get the harp draw from the 2000 token i have left... i might continue zeus farm until i get it bc then at least i’ll have an even uncap on my harps (4 fully uncapped, bc i actually had a 1* harp in stash already.... bc those were FROM RANDOM DROPS I’D GOTTEN FROM GW IN THE PAST)

uhg anyways... this was like one of the first times in like a very long time that i didn’t fully burn out by day 3/4. i pushed through to the end like a godda.mn maniac. even in my early days i often just went lol im done on day 4... last gw i thought i was insane bc i got like ~158mil total honors (and EARTH IS LIKE ARGUABLY MY LEAST DEVELOPED). and this time i got over 400mil :) next one is going to be hell because my wind has be improved to 100% double tia crit and i have a my developed full auto team. oh fcking boy.

#sammy liveblogs about granblue #sammy no #dumb text post #sammy be quiet #stuff i logged for my own record but also i just need to info dump this off my chest somewhere uhg

1 note · View note

reyesstrand · 5 years ago

Note

Hi! If you’re still accepting these prompts how about #5 for tarlos, but maybe not with such an angsty ending? Lol

thank you for the prompt! 💗 all prompts are from this list!

Of all the things that TK loves about their relocation to Austin, one of the best has to be the cookouts.

They seem to be a tradition, especially for Judd and Grace, who often invite the whole crew over when they’re off-shift and looking for the chance to relax. Usually, someone already has plans, and it’s never the complete team spending their evenings together — but tonight, for the first time in a while, they’re all off, free, and ready to devour Grace’s cooking. Judd looks at him all knowingly, telling him that he can bring the cop if he wants, and TK does, in fact, want to, so he does. They’ve been going strong for a few months and the 126 already loves Carlos, and that much is proven when they walk through the side-gate to get into Judd and Grace’s back yard, and half of his team immediately flocks over to talk to Carlos.

TK would be jealous, but who can blame the others? They’re his family, and Judd’s already threatened to give Carlos the shovel talk despite TK’s many protests, and all-in-all they get along. TK passes a bouquet of flowers over to Grace, who’s chatting with Michelle near some of the lawn games they have set up. Grace hugs him close and reaches up to kiss his cheek, giving him that warm smile that manages to enchant anyone who comes across the woman.

“It’s nice that you guys are all so close,” Carlos observes, after they’ve found some free seats and Grace has refused to let them help with anything. TK hums in agreement.

“It really does feel like we’re just some big family, most of the time.” TK shrugs, and watches his boyfriend as he’s taking everyone in around them.

Carlos smiles contentedly at him, and squeezes TK’s hand, as their fingers are still threaded as they have been since they sat down. Eventually Judd calls out that the food’s ready and for everyone to dig in, which they do. Owen comes to talk to them while they eat, eventually drawing Marjan and Mateo into the fold, as well. Little groups have splintered off across the yard as people share stories over their dinner, and everyone laughs as Marjan recounts some daring mission she once was a part of in Miami, which in turn was recorded and shared half a million times within twenty-four hours. TK listens, smiling at his friend’s story, sitting back and letting the comfort of being around all the people he loves most relax him deep in his bones after a long shift.

Things quickly pick up after dinner, however.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never taught your son the art of cornhole, Cap,” Judd says, arms curled securely around his wife’s waist.

Owen throws his hands up in the air. “Life is different in Manhattan, what can I say?”

Now Carlos throws a surprised look at TK. “Really? You’ve never played?”

Before TK can answer, Judd quickly jumps in.

“Us Texans might have to show them a thing or two,” Judd’s shit-eating grin appears, as everyone starts to pick up on the conversation. Owen agrees to a game, and TK shakes his head a little but stands next to his dad, listening as Judd quickly does a rundown of how the game works. TK figures it really can’t be that hard, and locks eyes with Judd.

“Let’s do this, cowboy Judd,” TK huffs out a little laugh when someone lets out an excited woo! behind them, and people step forward to join the game.

Marjan and Paul join their team. Judd’s joined by Michelle, who gives them a competitive wink, and Nancy. TK makes a dramatic show of gasping to show his feeling of betrayal when Judd calls for one more teammate, and Carlos volunteers.

“Don’t you love me?” TK asks, as Carlos steps closer to Michelle. He tries pouting at his boyfriend, but Carlos shakes his head, a little smirk in place. He turns back into TK’s space just for a moment, and TK bites back a goofy smile as his boyfriend’s thumb runs along his shoulder.

“Of course I do, Ty,” Carlos says, sincerely, and TK swallows a little at the earnest look in his eyes. And then Carlos steps back to grab the blue beanbags for his team to use. “But I want to be on the winning team, so.”

Carlos punctuates it with a shrug, finally walking over to Michelle, who grins at him. Judd smacks him appreciatively on the shoulder, and Carlos’ gaze stays playful even from across the yard.

TK gathers up the red beanbags for his team. He makes sure he catches Carlos’ eyes as he mirrors his teasing look, as he calls out, “You’re on, Reyes!”

Carlos laughs, and he's so beautiful it almost distracts TK from the matter at hand. He’s only slightly worried about losing. His dad’s good at golf and has generally decent depth perception, but TK knows he and Marjan and Paul stick out like sore thumbs; not only are they not Texas natives, but they’d all literally learned what this game was twenty minutes ago, and didn’t grow up perfecting their skills — as most of their opposing team apparently has.

He’s right about his dad being their best player; he gets them points right away, and Marjan’s not too bad either. It takes her a few throws, but eventually she perfects it, and confidently accepts applause when she gets them another few points. TK’s pretty terrible, he’s come to learn that he’s really not the most gifted when it comes to sports, and Paul gets by. Near the end of the game, the focus has mostly dropped down to just having fun and being plain stupid about their throws, even making up rules on the spot. Judd’s laugh is deep and can be heard probably a block away, and Carlos grins at him from across the way, and TK decides he’s content enough to watch the flex of his boyfriend’s arm as he perfects his throws with every passing round.

It’s clear Judd’s team is going to win. It’s also clear that at this point, nobody really cares about it.

“Now, pretty boy, I don’t want your feelings to get hurt,” Judd jokes, as he prepares his next throw. TK narrows his eyes at him as he expertly manages to get his team’s last beanbag into the hole, as cheers erupt around them from his team. “That’s how you do it, brother.”

“Alright, this can be your thing, I’ll just continue to beat you at everything else.” TK teases back, effortlessly moving out of the way as Judd tries to move in close to ruffle up his hair. Carlos does move back into his space and TK loops his arm around the other man’s waist, keeping him close to his side. The others sort of dissipate, moving on to other games or to grab another drink or pick at the dessert that’s still left out.

“I do love you, you know,” Carlos murmurs, as he presses a quick kiss to his temple.

TK smiles as he feels Carlos’ arm settle over his shoulder. “I love you too.”

“Even if you suck at cornhole.” Carlos adds, his eyes crinkling around the corners as he grins and squirms away from TK’s attempt to playfully jab him in the side.

“Dick,” TK mutters, but Carlos is smiling into it when they kiss, and even as the others start yelling at them to get a room, he doesn’t care about anything else in the world.

#tarlos #tarlos fic #911 lone star fic #911 lone star #my fic #robronisendgame #one shot collection

74 notes · View notes

my-whumpy-little-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Llyr and the Pirates - Day 18

Day 18: Forced to Hunt/Sing/Perform

For @amonthofwhump‘s Water Whump May, where I write a part of this story every day according to the prompt. I think Hugh and Gawain are constantly trying to one-up each other because whenever one bastard does a bad thing, the other one does something worse and I can’t stop them helppp.

Tag list: @spiffythespook, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insanitywishes, @whumpingonarainyday

Content warnings: noncon kiss(ish? she’s just doing cpr so that’s why), threats of death

no editing we die like fools.

Even as he went still, as he let out a breath, as his eyes rolled into the back of his head…

The singing never stopped.

He woke to lips pressing against his own, stale breath forced down his throat, and hands repeatedly pounding down on his chest. He couldn’t breathe right under the weight and he tried to bat the hands off, choking and coughing on wet breaths.

“Stah… stop it, gotta- gotta breathe…” he slurred, pushing weakly against hands that immediately let go, to his relief.

“Finally! I was starting to think you died for good. Captain woulda been fuckin’ pissed,” a female voice said, and he looked up to see a woman kneeling above him. She was part of Gawain’s crew, no doubt, but he didn’t know why she was there, or why he was there for that matter.

Where had he been before this? Gawain tied him to the front of the ship, he remembered that much. Then… he’d broken free, hadn’t he? He’d broken free and swam away with those other people: the ones who looked like they had tails and held him down under the water until he couldn’t stay conscious any longer.

Who were they? Why were they there? Nobody dared go for a swim that far out in the ocean, for fear of what vicious creatures lived there below the surface. Were these people some of those vicious creatures?

He banished the thought from his head. He’d been so incoherent by that time that some of his memory had to be imagined or exaggerated. Though that still didn’t explain how in the world he survived. Ray turned back to the woman still leaning over him.

“How did y-you-” he started, but a coughing fit overtook him. Water and spit dripped from the corner of his mouth when he spoke again, weakly. “How’d you find me?”

“You were floating in the water right over here. How could I not find you?” she chuckled, grabbing at his arm. “Now get up. Captain wants you back safe and sound, and it’s not like I brought anyone else to carry you back.” True to her word, there really was nobody else around the small cove he’d ended up in. How he’d ended up there, he had no idea, but the ship was nowhere in sight. She leaned down to pull Ray more firmly, hoisting him to his unsteady feet before he could protest further. It was only then that the full extent of the situation struck him.

They were isolated. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew which direction the lady was walking. If he kept going on his own, he was bound to find the ship eventually. And Llyr was still there; what was happening to him now that Ray had run off?

He curled his hand into a fist before he even knew what he was doing, and launched a punch at her temple from behind. She crumpled to the ground with a shout, and she was out cold. Well. That worked out, he supposed. The adrenaline was still coursing through Ray’s veins as he continued on trembling legs, walking across rocky sand with larger chunks that dug into his feet, already sore from the night before.

The sun, rising higher in the sky, heated everything around him and forced him to sweat out water he didn’t think his body even had in its dehydrated state. But eventually, after not all too long, he made it back to the ship where there were plenty more sailors milling around.

Most seemed to be patrolling the edges of the beach, and he pressed back up against the rocky cliff, the shade it provided just enough to hide him from plain sight. Ray continued along there, watching everyone warily, and finally made it to the point where he was aligned with the back entrance point of the ship. The ground there was littered with splintered wood, along with the rocks.

There was one more person he could see, milling around in a barely visible room, but they soon disappeared up a set of stairs and he took his chance. Ray slunk into the ship, all carefully silent footfalls and owlish wide eyes, looking around in the relative darkness to find any sign of where they’d kept Llyr. Each room he checked was devoid of other people, and he grew tense with the fear that Gawain had already woken him and hurt him even more for no reason before Ray had the chance to save him.

Then there was a cold point of metal at the small of his back, a hand on his shoulder, and he couldn’t think.

“Don’t move,” a voice said, and he recognized it. “Hugh? Oh thank god, it’s you I-” “I said don’t move!” he hissed, pressing the blade in hard enough to draw blood. Ray went stiff and turned back around to face forward. He kept his breathing steady. He wouldn’t let his heart race, and he wouldn’t let himself panic. This was a misunderstanding, or- or something, he didn’t fucking know right now.

“...what’s up?” Ray asked, throat tightening around the words, forcing them out higher than he’d intended.

“You ran,” Hugh stated simply.

“I was gonna help you, and we were gonna get out before anyone else woke up. No harm done. You know...”

“Do you know how much trouble you got me in?” he snapped, jerking Ray’s shoulder back and forcing his body against the blade. “You wanna know what happened after you set such a great fucking example?!”

“I’m-” he tried to speak, but Hugh was dead set on saying what he had planned. Knowing him, he’d been rehearsing the coming speech in his head since whatever incident had occurred.

“The little fucking thief ran off,” he growled, “and I’m taking the blame for his disappearance. First you, then him, and the captain’s gonna have my head soon if I don’t fix this shit. He’s got plans for you, ya know.”

Llyr had run. That was all that mattered. He’d gotten out of there, away from Gawain and Hugh, and he was safer wherever he was now.

“Good for him. Let him go, Hugh, and we’ll get out of here ourselves.”

“Get out of here? You’re making that sound like a good thing, Ray. I think we’ll be just fine here. Captain’s the first sensible guy I’ve met in years, really.”

“I’m your captain, Hugh: not that freak. We’re leaving and finding wherever the rest of the crew sailed off to, and that’s final.”

“I don’t take orders from you anymore, Raymond!” Hugh all but shouted in his ear. “I’m tired of you and your happy, peaceful little rules! If I gotta join up with some law abiding folks to have some decent fun, then goddammit that’s what I’m gonna do!”

Ray was silent for a moment, and the words hung in the air like an awful stench. Perhaps he should have seen that coming.

“Listen up. You and I are gonna take a nice walk down the beach and find that boy, and when we do, we’re gonna bring him right back here. If you refuse to help,” he paused, trailing the blade up his back with a feather light touch, “I’ll end you right here, right now.”

“Wait, don’t, I- won’t Gawain kill you, then? If you- if you kill me?”

“He’ll kill me anyway if I don’t find Llyr, and the stupid brat would never come with me if I didn’t have help. Now are you helping, or am I gonna have to explain why I got blood all over these new, clean clothes before he spills mine as well?”

Ray breathed out a wavering sigh and closed his eyes.

“...okay. I’ll help.”

Next part

17 notes · View notes

zmediaoutlet · 4 years ago

Text

in support of Black Lives Matter, @mystifiedgal donated $30, and requested Tony Stark/Stephen Strange pre-slash. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

It’s a real busy month. The superfriends break out of supermax, with the help of a blond beefboy who flings frisbees at the security cameras and doesn’t care who sees his face; the UN goes ballistic and demands Tony help; Tony gets extremely, extremely drunk like he hasn’t in years and sends Ross a manip video of Tucker Maxx getting rawed by a donkey dressed as a colonel instead of responding; the superfriends crash back into America, and Natasha--traitor--lets them back in to the Avengers compound upstate; Tony, still drunk, decides to let them stay instead of incinerating the damn thing from space; Wanda gets kidnapped by a wizard; Tony and Steve have to go save her. Tony and Steve. No, Tony’s not bitter.

“I’m struggling to come up with a reason why I shouldn’t have my house nuke your house from orbit,” Tony says. Steve gives him a bitchy look. Yeah, what else is new. He lifts his chin, looks at the wizard through his green glasses. Everything’s better in green. “Anything? Mister Wizard?”

Said wizard gives him an unimpressed look. Tony doesn’t know why. His facial hair is even more ridiculous than Tony’s, and Tony cultivates this shit. “Strange.”

“Yes, you are,” Tony says, and Steve sighs and cuts his hand through the air before Tony can continue.

“Doctor,” he says, polite. Tony rolls his eyes. Wanda, in stasis halfway up to the skylight in this weird-ass mansion, pulsates in angry red, trapped in amber. “You have to understand that things were--different. The Avengers have no desire to go to war with the--Sanctum.”

“The Sanctum has no desire to go to war with the Avengers,” the wizard says--and, jesus, what is his name? Blue eyes, good hair, cape that seems to float in magic wind. Fancy Bastard isn’t something that should go on a birth certificate. “However, you are harboring a magic user who could cause extreme damage to the innocent people of this plane if left unchecked.”

Steve frowns. “Now, look--” he says, and the wizard’s eyebrow cocks and he waves a hand, and in the circle of amber that appears midair (how?) there’s a perfect 4k, 3D view of the deaths of innocents in Lagos, of the devastation of Johannesburg after the Hulk was enraged there, of a man with red light crawling up his neck and the terror filling his eyes before his neck snaps.

Above, Wanda’s silent fury goes quiet as the red dims. Steve looks constipated, which Tony can admit inside his own head actually means he looks grim and upset and heroic. The wizard looks between the two of them. “This is a problem. It would be wisest to transfer her to an alternate plane, or at least to have her abilities removed.”

“They’re part of her,” Steve says, immediately. Tony looks up. Hard to see, from down here, but he can see that Wanda’s eyes are closed, inside her amber prison, and her face--he looks away. “You can’t remove them without killing her.”

“Well,” the wizard says, and doesn’t look even remotely regretful--who is this guy?--and Steve’s shoulders square up in that muscular way that presages a truly stupid fucking fight that’s about to ensue, and Tony opens his mouth without a single iota of a plan and says, “Wait a minute,” and the wizard and Steve and Wanda all look at him, and oh, for fuck’s sake. That means--

Doctor Stephen Strange. Brilliant surgeon. Incredible asshole. Drama queen, and the worst kind of all because he pretends not to be. No one has that beard without wanting to cause drama. Tony would know. Unfortunately--Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme, and Stephen Strange, super wizard, and Stephen Strange, taking over a wing of the compound, coming and going as he pleases in a whisk of amber light, and Stephen Strange, Tony’s lab companion for the foreseeable future.

He misses Bruce.

The compound isn’t comfy. The various wings are divided into factions. Steve and the superfriends, hiding out from the UN and all of the other dozens of countries that want to prosecute them, are on the east side where the sparring rooms are. Tony’s set up on the west side where the labs are, and he didn’t think to put a bedroom in the lab because he thought this place would be all kumbaya, superhero summer camp, and figured maybe they’d actually want to talk to each other when they were all here. More fool him. He sleeps on the couch in the lab most days, when he sleeps at all, and it means he’s got a great view every time there’s a swirling mind-bending circle of amber light and all of a sudden there’s a fucking wizard in his house, ready to work with Wanda on how not to accidentally kill thousands of people.

This morning, for example. Morning? Tony drags a hand over his face, smears drool and engine grease. “Good morning, Mr. Stark,” Strange says, and Tony mouths it back at him schoolyard style--what he assumes normal kids did in schoolyards--and Tony lets Friday speak the room into brightness, telling him the time and the weather and whether the world’s blown up, while he’s catnapped.

“How’s the scarlet terror?” Tony says, knuckling his eyes. Christ, this sucks. 69 degrees and he can’t even make a joke about it.

A pause. “Progressing,” Strange says. He’s still wearing that stupidass cosplay outfit. Cape and all.

Tony squints at him, slumped back on the couch. “You know, if you were a real wizard, you’d magic me up some coffee.”

Strange looks at him. He always looks stern. Like Tony’s failing some test. It’s tiring from the rest of the supercrew; it’s not better from some rando in a RenFaire uniform. Strange gestures, with his left hand, and unfurls the fist of his right at the lab table, which--abruptly becomes a coffee table, in that there’s a pot of steaming coffee and toast and what Tony thinks is--fucking lox?

“From that deli on 44th,” Strange says, matter-of-fact. “You know, when I’m not a sorcerer I’m a doctor. In my medical opinion, you could look less like shit.”

Tony staggers upright, fetches up against the table. His head gongs like a--like a fuckin’ gong. It’s too early for metaphor. He pours a cup of coffee and ignores that his hands are trembling. “In my layman opinion you can suck my dick,” he says, friendly, and Strange rolls his eyes but he--he smiles, too, and he--doesn’t look like nearly so much of a dickhead when he smiles. Cape or no. Tony holds the cup (finest porcelain, like Tony has drunk coffee at Buckingham Palace in less-nice china than this) and squints, brain still offline, and Strange shakes his head and says, “Good luck, Tony,” and whisks away to deal with their little magical terror, and leaves Tony to think of what the hell. Just--what the hell.

Turns out there’s a big difference between kinds of magic. And here was Tony, just thinking that physics were physics. “No, no,” Strange says, impatiently. “There is of course the physics of our plane, which follow their own laws. Then, naturally, there is the magic of Asgard, brought forth from Yggdrasil the world-tree and the belief therein, which is the sort that Loki and Odin may perform. Then there is the magic of the Infinity Stones, which perform their own miracles, and of course there is our problem with Miss Maximoff.”

He’s drawing a chart in the air with his hands as he talks, marked out in amber light. Tony says, “Friday, take that down,” and the house grabs the image of whatever magic Strange is doing and transmutes it into data, neatly transcribed in cells and manipulable forms for Tony to grab and hold and think about, and Tony grips Strange’s leatherette-and-cape shoulder and says, “Buddy, I could kiss you,” and Strange rolls his eyes but his cape swirls up and pats Tony on the hand in a brush of woolly affection, and Tony doesn’t really think about that because he’s locked into the possibilities and sees a lot of sleepless nights ahead, but that’s okay. He’s got time to think about it, later.

Strange won’t give up much info about the rest of his little magic crew. Numbers, attitudes, location. “I am the representative on Earth,” is all he’ll say, and--jeez-us, what a statement.

“I am the representative of the Avengers in Oneida County,” Tony says, in exactly the same tone, and then pauses, flicking armor designs from one ephemeral bin to another. “Shit. Am I? Maybe it’s Steve. Okay. I am the deposed representative of the Avengers in--”

“You’re the one I’m talking to,” Strange says. He’s still sitting in the antique armchair he magicked up for himself, sipping tea. Seriously. Like every single thing he does is for the hashtag-aesthetic. “Mr. Rogers is certainly impressive, but it’s you who has had every actionable idea on streamlining Ms. Maximoff’s abilities. Don’t undercut yourself.”

Tony raises his eyebrows, lowers his hands. “How dare you,” he says, lightly, even if his chest feels--some kind of way. “I have never, in my life, in my entire existence, undercut myself, and in fact I think I’m going to set the StarkTech legal team on you--Friday, call up Pepper, see if we can sue the entirety of the Sanctum Sanctorum and also magic itself, and throw David Bowie in there too--”

Yes, Mister Stark, Friday says from nowhere, lightly amused just like she should be--good girl--and Strange rolls his eyes. “Don’t bring Bowie into this,” he says, mild, and Tony grins and Friday cues up Fame without even needing to be asked.

“Oh, very good choice,” Strange says, looking up at the ceiling, and Tony waves the armor out of existence and says, “Okay, Mister Wizard--dinner, and we’re talking Bowie and we’re talking King Crimson and we’re talking Yes, and you’re putting in an opinion about those star-and-moon pants Page used to wear, let’s go--” and Strange says, “First, they’re incredible; second, only if we’re getting Thai,” and Tony--Tony could just--

A bad night. Tony lays on the couch in the lab and hugs a bottle of very good, very rare, very expensive scotch against his ribs, and doesn’t drink it, and wants to. Above he’s had Friday peel away the armor of the ceiling and the sky’s a patchwork quilt of stars. Enough sound baffling and he can’t hear whatever might be going on in the rest of the compound; if Steve and the others are training; if anyone’s even here, but him. It’s peaceful. It sucks.

A swirl of amber. “You look ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugs. “Sometimes you get sued by grieving parents for your technology being used in exactly the way you intended and you think, fuck, they sure have a point. And then you want a ham sandwich and no one will get you one. It’s tough.”

He thinks he maybe sounded more bitter than he needed to. He maybe should’ve tried harder. He watches a satellite track across the sky, feels his body. Even now, when he breathes deep, there’s still a twinge where the reactor should be. He wishes sometimes--but it’s stupid. The reactor didn’t make him him. It wasn’t any more accountability than any other pain could’ve been.

There’s a sinking sensation, by his feet. Strange, sitting on the couch. “I could get you a ham sandwich,” he says, quiet. “But I suspect it wouldn’t do the trick.”

“Clever man, Doctor,” Tony says, acid. He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to be acid. He imagines--the armor--dissolving slowly, the facemask melting into a broken sizzle of empty gestures. He maybe should’ve had less to drink.

“We are making progress, Tony,” Strange says. “Every day. Time... isn’t always on our side. But we do what we can. That’s all there is. What we can.”

Tony stretches his legs out. His shins bump Strange’s back. He’s not wearing the whole ensemble--cape and leather and whatever the hell. He’s in a sweater, and jeans, and he looks like someone Tony can actually touch. Something that obeys the physics Tony understands. Something real.

He puts the bottle of scotch on the floor. “Maybe a ham sandwich wouldn’t hurt,” he says, finally.

Strange--Stephen--touches his knee, lightly. He smiles at Tony, in the dark. “Mustard?” he says. “I can do whatever you want.”

Tony breathes deep. Settles. He says, “And you better add a pickle, cheapskate,” and feels Stephen squeeze his knee, and feels--well. Some kind of way.

#fffb #mystifiedgal #tony stark/stephen strange #...ironwizard?#my writing

12 notes · View notes

chainofbeing · 4 years ago

Link

A warlord attempts to make a deal.

Narration: David Charles

Shadow-of-Death: Samuel-Alejandro D. Fuentes (who heads laughably dapper)

Hakan Abasiyanik: David Orión (who creates Dos: after you)

Velanedd: Kathryn Stanley (who does acting and sound with dramatically dapper)

Writing and Sound design: Cai Gwilym Pritchard

An Extra Special thanks to our patrons

Theresa Shiban

Anthony Hyde

Zachary Fortais-Gomm

email us at [email protected]

follow the podcast on twitter @chainofbeing

Subscribe to the patreon for exclusive content and rewards!

and check out Glass Letters! A story about loneliness, connection, and letters in bottles. Brought to you from an island in the middle of nowhere

[the sounds of light chatter, people smoking and drinking, strong winds and birdcalls can be made out faintly]

“I’ve always loved ancient human texts. I find the written languages to be so… beautiful. The spoken languages are hideous. All that splattering and hot air ‘walsh glug bubble bleh’. It pains me to use it now but without it you wouldn’t be able to understand my words” the malgaric stands up from his throne, bright, harsh sunlight from the surrounding desert filters through the slats in the ceiling and onto the bound and gagged face of a human, beaten and bloody, the oval room is filled with thugs, dacoits and bandits, who stand and watch, drinking and muttering inaudibly to each other. “But written down? It’s magical, I’ve always thought so. And One day I read this quote… this is many many years ago mind you: Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; I thought it must be fate, I mean, there it was: ‘shadow-of-death’ my name right there in a text that was written long before humans even realised they weren’t the centre of the universe. Well- I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my lights shine a little brighter,” The human’s face does not change, he stares at the Malgaric with a consistent hateful expression. The Malgaric walks down the short set of carpeted stairs and crouches down in front of the human. The walls are lined with various trophies, Veatorian tapestries, human sculptures. Hass jewelry and various flags and cloaks ripped from council forces hang from the rafters and walls, all a messy display of wealth and power. Shadow-of-death leans in so the red lights of his body reflect on the skin of the human. A set of sharp blades hover below each ear, “Now, human. I’ve been told that you-” the Malgaric pushes a finger into the humans shoulder, who winces in pain “-are part of a group who are the direct descendants of some humans who stayed behind in their stellar system. Now I don’t know if you know, but out here? Human artefacts are rarer than a white Berstowe,” the Malgaric laughs to himself but notices the human does not react “Ah of course, you wouldn’t get the reference,” the Malgaric takes one of the blades from his ears and severs the gag that is tied around the humans mouth “your name, I don’t want refer to you just as ‘human’” The human peers into the Malgarics bright wide eyes “my name is Hakan Abasiyanik,” “Well Hakan, the way I see it, your little group of stubborn rebels probably have the best chance of having some of the more... rare texts I covet so highly. So I ask this of you: return to your people and tell them that the great Shadow-of-Death offers a trade, ignore the council's claims of violent warlordism, we are more than peaceful to our partners. I want old earth texts, I offer much in return, I have amassed a great deal of wealth in my time, I am sure we can reach some kind of deal. Will you do this for me?” “I’ll tell you, you metallic fuck, that the Anthronesians would rather be eradicated right down to the last soldier than work with any species other than human, you might as well slaughter me now, we would never let you get your filthy hands on-” Shadow-of-Death draws an antique Malgaric sidearm and fires a centimetre thick cone of an osmium-tungsten alloy into Hakan’s forehead. An incredibly eccentric and expensive way to dispatch someone, but it made for a good story (and even better rumors), all you had to do was plant the seeds and soon enough there’d be myths and legends about you for years to come. Being a warlord took branding more than anything these days, any half cocked jumped up idiot with a rifle and a crew could stake a claim to some planet and shoot at potential visitors. It requires real finesse to be remembered for it. Shadow-of-Death presses a switch and a hatch opens up beneath the still warm Hakan, who tumbles down the side of the mountain that the compound is built into. Shadow peers down as it slowly closes. He looks up to one of his lieutenants. “Shouldn’t there be more bodies down there?” he says in Dŵrian “We’ve, uh- we’ve been disposing of them. Sir,” his lieutenant, a Dŵrian, says “Drop all that ‘sir’ shit,” “Sorry si-, sorry, a habit from the military,” “I don’t care, why have you been removing the bodies?” “The entrance to the compound, is- just around the corner, and the smell can get hard to stomach,” “Did I not watch you disembowel that Nimonean soldier the other day?” “Yeah, but, I didn’t have to live near the mess,” Shadow-of-Death crosses his arms and harrumphs “I’m sorry, we didn’t mean to upset you-” “I’m not upset, it's just, I had this trapdoor built and I’m annoyed that- ok so maybe I am upset, more at myself really. I’m not normally this short sighted,” “We could build a slide? Redirect the bodies further away?” “A slide?” “No, you’re right that’s stupid,” “I didn’t say that,” “Really? Could it work?” “No it is stupid I just didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth,” “Yes, sorry,” The warlord looks to a Veatorian, dressed in animal skins with a large machine gun slung at her side “Sapriech, take Velanedd and your forces, find that human’s camp, eradicate it. If they won’t play nice we’ll take what we want by force,” he says in Veatorian The Dŵrian and Veatorian leave and Shadow-of-Death goes over to his throne and slumps down, his old body not moving as gracefully as it once did. He rests an elbow on the throne's armrest and watches his warriors file out of the room. He sits in a room full of trophies, on a mountain that belongs to him, surrounded by scores of people who would die in his name, and feels empty. He leans back and rests his head on a hand. “This place needs a tv,”

#audio drama #audiodrama #podcast #podcast transcript #transcript

1 note · View note

930club · 4 years ago

Photo

We recently chatted with Jamie Stillman, owner and mastermind of Akron, Ohio’s Earthquaker Devices, one of the leading innovators in guitar pedals/effects. We touch on everything from general guitar nerdery to how the pandemic is affecting the day-to-day operations of EQD. You can delve more into everything Earthquaker Devices related here.

Dave Kezer [9:30 Club]: There’s a joke that anyone who starts to listen to rap immediately wants to try to rap. It seems like anyone who starts to build guitar pedals immediately thinks they can start a pedal company. What do you think it takes to actually get a company off the ground in a sustainable way?

LOL! I used to make a similar joke that every guitar player with a soldering iron is a pedal company. It used to feel that way, but I think the craze has died down. It takes a lot of patience, hard work, and (possibly most importantly) good ideas to build a stable effect pedal company. They almost always start out as a hobby and it’s good to realize when it has moved beyond that point. In my case, it was very important to realize when I was in over my head and when to bring on people who have real knowledge in handling the business on a day-to-day level and have the ability to look at the bigger picture. I have punk rock business skills which worked up to a point, but I’m better suited to the creative role.

In your EQDQ&A Ep. 1, you joked about how long it took you to truly start understanding the differences/complexities of gear. I nerd out on gear so much that sometimes I lose focus on just enjoying playing instruments for the sake of it. How far is too far when it comes to putting every facet of gear under the microscope?

I think the threshold is different for everyone. There are people who won’t settle down until every piece of gear they own is top of the line and Reddit approved and there are people who don’t give a shit if their cable crackles if it moves a certain way. I put myself in the middle. I don’t really care about the proven quality or name brand of whatever I’m using, and I just make sure it works 100% of the time whenever possible. I make an exception on pickups, cables and power supplies because I think those are the most important part of the equation for me personally. I’ll always use the best I can find, and I decide what is best by putting it to use and seeing how it performs.

Your feature on the Rainbow Machine focuses on the usability of weird pedals. Have you designed something so weird that it is truly unusable?

Personally, I don’t find the Rainbow Machine to be so weird, but a lot of other people do, so we ran with that. I know the “pixie trails” function of the Magic switch is obnoxious, but I think it’s cool. There are way weirder pedals out there, lol. I’ve definitely designed things that I thought were cool but not exactly functional in every setting, but I usually work to make them more multi-dimensional. There’s only one that I’ve been working on for a really long time that has a million controls with minimal functionality. I’m not sure I’ll ever finish it but it’s (kind of) fun to keep trying once or twice a year when the mood strikes.

Are there any guitars that you’re completely satisfied with and won’t continue to modify? It seems like for gear people (myself included), a piece of gear will operate at 99% of its maximum potential, but the search for that 1% will make your brain itch forever and lead to continued modification.

No, I constantly modify all of my guitars lol. I change pickups a lot, more than anyone should. The closest I think I’ve gotten to “perfection” would be my stock Nash Telecaster and a heavily modded Fender Jazzmaster. The Jazzmaster is a 60th anniversary that I gutted and replaced almost everything except the neck and body. It has Seymour Duncan custom shop ’59 humbuckers for Jazzmaster with 500K push/pull pots for coil tapping and the rhythm circuit is removed. It also has locking tuners, a Mastery vibrato, bridge, and string tree. It still feels too new, but it sounds perfect.

Your Reverb “Does This Work?” interview focuses on old effects and their tendency to break down over time. What are the typical things that cause old circuits to stop working?

In my experience it has been dust, humidity, and neglect resulting in bad switches, corroded solder joints, cracked wires and dried caps. I never get around to fixing my old gear though. I’ll get in there if I really want to use something, but I’ll usually turn it over to Joe Golden, our in-house repair wizard. Most of the broken gear in the Reverb video is still broken…

Two of my favorite EQD pedals are the Tentacle and the Acapulco Gold, if not simply because there are one/no options to choose from when getting sounds. I tend to get freaked out when I see a pedal that has 4+ knobs, which is something I’m working on, haha. Where do you draw the line when it comes to simplicity vs. versatility when designing pedals?

I used to have a “whatever it takes” approach to design as long as it wasn’t confusing for the general user, but I’ve been moving towards a “less is more” approach. I don’t think pedals should require hours of reading manuals and menu diving to use. The faster you can get to making actual music the better. That’s not to say I don’t have some elaborate, sometimes confusing, products in the pipeline but I’m generally leaning towards simple design.

Don’t mean to be a bummer, but I have to ask — how has the pandemic affected EQD’s business operations? If I understand correctly — it seems like your builders are assembling pedals at home?

We have taken the pandemic very seriously. We knew the shutdown was coming and some of our employees had already been working to get things in place to make the transition to home building as easy as we could. We had almost 50 employees working from home for almost three months and the production capacity was greatly reduced. We didn’t ship any product for about two months. We kept all the employees on the payroll and had regular Zoom meetings to keep everyone up to date on what we were doing. Now, as of June 16, 2020, we are still mostly working from home but we have a skeleton crew in the shop so we can populate PCB’s more efficiently and start shipping product. We completely rearranged the shop to spread people out and invested a lot of time and money into making it a safe and sanitary workspace. We have gone above and beyond all the recommended protocols — too many precautions to list. It would be very hard to catch any illness inside EQD now.

Do you have a favorite “Let’s Go!” guitar riff? For example, whenever I’m driving and “Unchained” comes on the radio, I dime the volume and start driving like a complete lunatic.

I’m pretty reserved but, oddly enough, “Unchained” is also one of my favorite riffs ever! I think I play it at least once every time I pick up a guitar. Also a big fan of “Siberian Khatru” by Yes once it kicks in. Same with “In the Light” and “Rain Song” by Led Zeppelin and anything on Sonic Youth’s Sister. I guess these are more riffs that I wish I wrote than riffs that make me lose my shit. I guess most of them also make me sound like a real dad rocker too.

Is there a piece of gear you’ve spent a completely stupid amount of money on simply because you had to have it?

Yes, a Sunn Model T and it was worth every penny! It’s the most perfect amp I’ve ever owned.

Not asking you to talk smack, but do you have a “Dumbest Pedal Ever Designed” award in your head?

I’ll keep my mouth shut on this one.

Finally, have you been through D.C. while touring or seeing shows? Anything about D.C. venues or the music scene in general you’d like to share?

I’ve been through D.C. about six or seven times, maybe more. I’ve always held D.C. in high regard because of Dischord records and bands like Ignition, Bad Brains, Jawbox, Fugazi, etc. 9:30 Club is actually one my favorite venues ever. I’ve been through twice when I was tour managing and the staff was super friendly and accommodating, which is unfortunately rare in the touring world. It also has the best green room of any venue I ever worked in; the bunks are a nice touch!

— Dave Kezer

#9:30 interview #930 interview #earthquakerdevices #jamie stillman

2 notes · View notes

dat-fandom-losertown · 5 years ago

Text

The Drift Between Us

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 7: Celebration

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Hank Anderson x Connor and Gavin Reed x RK900 (Ritch)

Pacific Rim AU

Warnings: Alcohol, Drunkenness (they’re just chillin’ with some drinks)

Word Count: 8,129

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <> Masterlist <> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Connor is just leaving the office area with Ritch right at his heels when someone suddenly pops up from around the corner. Connor jerks into something resembling a fight stance, then just as quickly relaxes with a huge sigh and small smile. It’s just Simon. The blond smiles apologetically, while the rest of the crew starts standing up after leaning up against the wall behind him.

“Well? What’s the news? Are you staying or going?” North asks impatiently.

“We’re staying.” Ritch informs in a tone he hasn’t heard in a while. When Connor turns to look at him, his twin has a small smile and a light in his eyes that he thought Amanda successfully destroyed long ago; one of content and relief.

The four trainees all cheer at once, and Simon hops over to hug Ritch in one arm and Connor in the other. Connor short-circuits for a moment, but Ritch immediately gives a gentle hug back. Before he can copy his twin, though, Simon is letting go and Markus is taking his place, leading them away with one arm over each of their shoulders.

“This is a cause for celebration!” He calls, making both twins cringe at the volume right by their ears.

“Yeah! We already have people bringing drinks and snacks to Simon’s and Markus’ bunker!” North cheers.

That catches Connor’s attention. “Drinks? As in, alcoholic drinks? Aren’t those prohibited?”

“Maybe for pilots they are, but not for us normal people and trainees, it’s only looked down upon!”

Josh elaborates a bit further. “Technically we’re not supposed to get drunk, but I’ve been getting close with some of the people who work in the lab downstairs, and they’re all allowed to have drinks every now and then, or they can do this weird petition thing to get a larger supply if there’s some kind of thing they’re celebrating. I just asked a couple of them if they could get one going so we could have a few drinks tonight.”

“You were that confident we were going to stay?” Ritch asks.

“Eh,” Markus says unsurely, “We figured you probably wouldn’t be sent off, not with how perfect you guys are for this job, but could’ve been a sending off party if things went downhill. Now stop asking questions and let's get back to our bunker!”

Markus then unloops his arms from their shoulders and sets off at a faster pace. Connor and Ritch quickly catch up to him. It doesn’t take too long to make it to Simon’s and Markus’ bunker, and when they do, there’s two other people waiting in front of it. One look at Ritch proves that he doesn’t know who these people are either, but they’re holding drinks, so they must be Josh’s scientist contacts.

“Did you guys bring any snacks?” The tanned woman waiting calls amicably.

Simon shakes his head, “No, the cafeteria was completely closed, and no one was willing to donate to our cause.”

The woman shakes her head with a sarcastic frown, “The greedy fucks.” She smiles, “Lets get all of this inside, then, shall we? I don’t want Hank or someone coming around the corner and seeing this.” She lifts up four bottles of amber-colored alcohol.

“Why not?” Connor didn’t mean to ask out loud because he has a feeling why she would say that, but there’s no taking it back now.

“Because this is his favorite stuff.” She walks through the door that’s been opened by Simon, “He used to always try to leech this off of me until what’s-his-face came along and was happy to give up his small ration. And now he’s on complete prohibition by the orders of the Marshal.” She sets them on the desk connected to the wall. “Honestly, it took him long enough.”

Connor simply nods and makes a note of the brand while looking around the room. It’s an exact copy of his and Ritch’s shared room, except Simon and Markus have photos and drawings hung up with sticky-tack and little trinkets and other small souvenirs on the higher shelves, along with plenty of fictional books among their brand new study material.

Where Ritch and Connor decided against paying extra to get the study material, they signed up to bring their own (which was almost free because Amanda had most of the books needed). Most people wouldn’t have that kind of luxury, and it makes Connor almost feel guilty for just a moment, then it goes away just as quickly when he spots a family picture on the shelf. Younger versions of North, Josh, Markus, and Simon are all posing around an older caucasion man in a wheelchair outside under a tree. It’s very nice, and it makes Connor wish he somehow had taken pictures of him and Ritch as they were growing up.

This room makes the twins’ bunker seem empty and lifeless, but Connor doesn’t even know where to start in getting their room to look this lively, besides being cheesy and hanging up Jaeger posters when there’s a loading dock of them in the same building. Maybe he’ll try drawing one of the newer models to hang up if it’s allowed– not that he can draw well, but it’d be a nice challenge on one of his slower, emptier days.

“Let’s get this started!” North suddenly shouts, making everyone cheer and Connor glad that these rooms are pretty much sound proof with all of the metal and concrete everywhere.

Instantly, there’s a bottle and a small cup pushed into his hand. The cup is partially filled with the amber alcohol that that woman, Vanessa apparently, told him was Hank’s supposed favorite. Connor tries a sip of that first and finds it disgusting, plus the burning sensation down his throat is too off-putting for Connor, so he sets it aside. The second bottle is something pink that Simon put in his hand with a wink. A sip of this is like drinking some kind of fruity soda with a certain zip to it. Connor decides he likes it, and grabs the same brand in the four other flavors after reading it barely has 3% alcohol in it versus whatever the hell is in that amber stuff.

A few hours and many, many drinks later, almost everyone is some degree of drunk and has split off into two groups. Markus turns out to be very tactile when he’s drunk, and is currently cuddling Simon while the blond and North are giggling about anything and everything over where they’re sitting on the floor in the corner of the room. Josh is sitting on the lower bunk, gushing about something he can’t understand to Vanessa and Riley, and Ritch seems to be following along well enough from where he’s sitting calmly on the ground. It makes sense. Ritch was always more into the tech and psychology side of science, and Connor was more interested in biology and first aid. Neither of them really loved science, but those were their preferred types when they had to choose one for schooling.

Connor gets up from where he’s leaning against the desk with all of the drinks. Over the past few hours, he started a game with himself; how many bottles can he hide somewhere on himself before someone notices. It slowly grew more challenging the more bottles he was stashing away, and he almost got caught twice, but now he has a total 13 bottles of different-colored wine coolers stashed in the fluffy jacket he’s wearing (everyone got hot and lowered the thermostat, so Connor was given Markus’ jacket to keep warm after refusing to drink the beer and whiskey to keep warm) and in various pockets of his cargo pants, and everyone is too drunk and/or preoccupied to notice him taking a 14th one.

Well, Ritch might be noticing him, but if he has, he’s made no move to stop him. He’d like to think that his brother has secretly joined in on this little game, or made his own in some way. It’s more likely that he just doesn’t care what Connor’s doing, though, and he tries to tell himself that it’s perfectly alright. It actually kind of works, this time.

The point is, this was all fun earlier when people could still talk, but were stupid and loose enough to do and say ridiculous things. Now, though, he’s the only one sober enough to walk in a straight line (except for Ritch, who only choked down a beer or two after deciding wine coolers are too sweet for him), and everyone else is too shit-faced (North’s words from earlier) to properly hold a conversation.

There were four bottles of whisky and two large packs of beer and a thing of wine coolers when this all started, so Connor’s a bit worried that, between six people, there is only half a bottle of whiskey and a six spare beers left (not including the 13 wine coolers poorly hidden on himself). That whiskey is supposedly strong, and he has absolutely no clue how much alcohol an adult body can take before bad things start to happen– he mainly learned about injuries, not drunkenness or illnesses. He doesn’t really trust North around this stuff, since she looks the closest to going into a coma and had been going back for more drinks more frequently than anyone else.

With that, a sudden idea pops into his head.

He still needs to thank Mr. Anderson for talking to Marshal Fowler and for everything else he’s done for him, and if what Vanessa said earlier is true, then he won’t be able to get access to any alcohol for a long while, if ever. Connor may not know much about anything outside of injuries, but he does know that completely cutting someone off suddenly when they have a drinking addiction as strong as Mr. Anderson’s is not good. It can lead to worse things, and he doubts he’ll stop drinking just because of the threat of not getting anymore. Maybe he’ll slow, but not stop. He’s pretty sure that’s not how it works.

Connor glances at the clock, which glows the numbers “1:07” in bright blue. Although, if this whiskey is really Mr. Anderson’s favorite drink, then he shouldn't mind if Connor brings it over this late– or this early– as a quick thank you, especially so if he isn’t supposed to have this kind of thing anymore. Connor knows this isn’t a good idea, but quite frankly, he trusts Mr. Anderson with it more than North at this point. He at least should know how to handle his drinking so he doesn’t immediately die from alcohol poisoning, and Connor wouldn’t be surprised if she already has poisoning to a certain degree.

Now that he’s finally convinced himself that this is, indeed, what he wants to do, he carefully unloads some of his bottles of wine coolers (he wants to bring some back to his bunker to put in his and Ritch’s mini-fridge because they’re delicious in smaller, occasional doses). That makes just enough room for the several beers he stashes in their place. It takes just over fifteen minutes of shuffling so he isn’t being completely obvious, but no one seems to have noticed yet, not even Ritch, who’d surely be giving him a very strange look by now if he did.

Now the trick he wants to use for the whisky bottle (shove it in a pillowcase with a pillow and carry it just right, so it looks like it’s just the pillow he’s holding) won’t work because everyone is hoarding the pillows, and the bottle is a bit too square-shaped for that. He can’t even use the balled-up-blanket trick because the only two in the room are occupied as well. Hiding it under his jacket would make the whisky bottle clink against the beer and wine cooler ones, and there’s no way to keep it up in his jacket and look natural at the same time, anyway.

Unless it didn’t need to look completely natural.

All it would take to get it out of the room is tucking it under his jacket, and who is going to be walking down the bunker halls this late at night (early in the morning?)? Connor highly doubts that there are guards stationed in a hallway filled with people whose entire job is batting and killing giant aliens that destroy cities for fun. The only other people he could think of that could be out at this time are people working the night shifts, and he doubts anyone focused on their own job will notice or care that he has a bottle in his hand, even less so if the label is covered by something to make it less obvious that it’s alcohol and not some kind of juice or tea.

Therefore, Connor looks around to make sure that no one is watching– Josh and Ritch are still talking quietly, but Riley is asleep and Vanessa looks about there too, with Markus, Simon, and North following her close behind– then takes three napkins and the bottle and shoves it all under his jacket carefully. He takes two experimental steps towards Ritch both to test how loud the bottles are and to tell his brother that he plans to leave. There’s minimal noise as long as he shuffles “tiredly” rather than taking actual steps. He stops right by Ritch, who looks up questioningly at him.

“I’m gonna head to bed. It’s getting late for me.”

Ritch nods, “Alright. I planned on leaving soon as well. I want to get everyone situated and comfortable before I do.”

Connor nods a single time, then turns and leaves silently. He keeps his arms curled around himself as if he was still cold despite the jacket as he opens the door. Again, if Ritch has noticed anything, which he must have by now, then he doesn’t say anything. Connor keeps his arms like that until he decides the coast is clear, then pulls out the bottle and napkins, loosely wrapping the napkins around it and holding the covered bottle like he would any old water bottle.

He passes his own bunker on the way to Mr. Anderson’s, but decides against going inside to drop off his wine coolers. Even though less bottles would allow him to move more naturally, the time it would take to dig them out and put them away isn’t worth it, since he’s to get back before Ritch does. He moves on a bit quicker at the reminder of his self-set time restraint.

While Connor hopes that Mr. Anderson is still up, he knows the chances of that are rather low. As he approaches his lunch companion’s door, he realizes he needs to come up with some kind of plan of where to keep this stash if the retired pilot won’t wake up or won’t let him inside to unload everything. He doesn’t want Ritch to know about this any more than he probably already does, after all.

He quickly decides that he’ll put the alcohol under his own blanket. His reasoning is that the mini-fridge is out of the question for anything except for his own colorful alcohol because there’s just no room in the ridiculously tiny thing. Plus, because Connor is on the top bunk, it would be difficult to see unless someone climbs up there, and no one would do that, especially not between now and lunch. No one has even been in their room before, not unless Ritch brought someone in there without his knowledge, but he’s more protective of their space than Connor is, so that’s very unlikely.

As Connor raises his hand to knock, Connor realizes what it may look like for someone to knock on the known-alcoholic’s door in the middle of the night with a covered bottle in hand. He quickly tucks the whisky bottle under his jacket carefully and hugs his left arm to his chest to pin it in place as he finally knocks.

He waits a few moments for any sign that Mr. Anderson is up, then knocks again, this time more firmly. When there’s still no response, Connor turns to go back to his room. He doesn’t want to wake him up if he’s still asleep, after al. He pulls out and readjusts the bottle and napkins in his hand so it doesn’t slip from his grip and keeps his stride at a tired shuffle. He makes it five steps before the sound of a door opening stops him in his tracks.

“Connor? What the fuck are you doing? It is 1:30 in the morning.”

He spins around as quickly as he’s silently able to with all the bottles tucked into his waistband. It ends up not being very fast.

“May I talk to you? Inside?” he asks boldly. He notes the other’s disheveled appearance, with the stained shirt and holey sweatpants.

“Fuckin’– What?” he shakes his head incredulously. “Could this not wait until a decent time to be awake? Why now in the middle of the night?”

“I just wanted to give you something as my thanks, and I’d rather do it without people around to poke their noses into it.” he replies genuinely, “But I guess it can wait until after lunch–”

“Wait a minute.” he interrupts, “What do you mean, ‘give me something as a thanks’? A thanks for what? And why would people not mind their own businesses?”

“I mean, I’m sure they would, but I’d still rather not talk about this in the middle of the hall.” He swings the whiskey bottle in his hand, hoping the other man will figure it out on his own. If the way Mr. Anderson tracks the movement with his eyes says anything, he definitely did.

“Fuck’s sake, get in here.” He turns and disappears behind the door, leaving it open behind him. Connor hears him mutter “not like I was actually sleeping anyway…” before he makes a move to enter.

Connor can’t help but notice that the room is cleaner than it was last time he was in here. The top of his desk is empty. There’s only one bottle Connor can spot out in the open, versus the several before. All of the clothes that were once in one large pile are now in two piles and a folded stack, which Connor elects to assume means “unwearable”, “not clean”, and “clean” based off of Mr. Anderson’s habits and normal wardrobe. He carefully shuts the door behind himself and eyes the older man, who’s leaning against the desk tiredly, now. It looks like he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, but he looks more tired despite that.

“You cleaned again.”

He really didn’t mean to say that out loud– hell, he didn’t even mean to say it the last time he was in here–, but Mr. Anderson doesn’t seem as bothered by it as he was before.

“Yea? You gonna say that every time you come in here and I’ve made progress? What about when it gets messy again, hm? ‘Cause I guarantee it will.” he challenges.

Connor just shakes his head calmly with a nervous smile. “If you’ll believe me, I didn’t actually mean to say that out loud. And this isn’t my room, it’s yours, so I don’t see why it’d be any of my business what you do with it beyond keeping potentially harmful bottles off the ground.” He pauses to eye the desk Mr. Anderson is leaning on. “Do you mind if I use your desk for a second?”

It’s a rough topic change, but it’s one that Mr. Anderson takes silently. He simply moves out of the way, overplaying exasperation of having to as he waves to it. Connor nods a silent thanks and walks over, mentally cringing at the feeling of the bottles in his waistband rubbing and clanging together with each step. Apparently his lunch companion couldn’t tell that he was hoarding bottles until now because he’s suddenly extremely interested in what Connor has.

He puts down the whisky first and uncovers it, discarding the napkins on the ground for now. Mr. Anderson is immediately at his side to investigate, obviously surprised to see the brand.

“What the fuck? This is full?” he whispers, then continues the same way as if someone will overhear him if he speaks too loud. “Where the hell d’ya get this? And how?”

“I heard that Marshal Fowler suddenly went from somewhat tolerating your drinking to cutting you off completely,” he answers partially, ever-so-carefully unzipping his jacket so the bottles barely tucked inside the inner pockets don’t slip out and crack or shatter. “And strictly from a medical point of view, it’s not healthy to cut off an addiction like yours like that so suddenly, so I decided to help out as thanks for talking to the marshal about giving me and Ritch a second chance. But don’t expect me to do this again, I was only able to this time because I was at a celebration and everyone was extremely inebriated.”

Once Connor has his jacket unzipped, he slowly pulls out the two beer bottles in the most danger of falling. The one on the left side makes his wine cooler bottle almost fall, so he has to pin it under his left arm so he has time to put the beer in his right hand down and catch it. He then digs out two more beers and sets them down, realizing there’s no good way about unloading Mr. Anderson’s alcohol without making his own fall out.

“Jesus. How many bottles did you take?” He picks up one of the beer bottles, studying the label.

“I had 16 bottles on me, plus the whisky–”

Mr. Anderson’s head snaps to him, “Wait, what?–”

“–and I think the only bottle people will notice missing is the whisky, since there were only four of them and there wasn’t enough room to stash them in the recycling with the beers and wine coolers. Though I doubt they’ll really care or question why there’s only three bottles left in the room.” Connor pulls out the last beer in his jacket pocket, then starts the process of freeing the one in his waistband, which is going to require taking them all out then resizing the belt. “Oh! And the wine coolers are mine, so you can’t have any.”

“I don’t like fruity drinks anyway.” he answers, staring at Connor as if he has a second head or a third leg. Connor ignores this easily, it’s a look he’s very used to, sadly.

He moves to pull out one of the two beer bottles from under his belt and immediately realizes his mistake. The wine-cooler bottles carelessly tucked in the biggest pockets are heavily weighing his pants down, and he doesn’t feel like flashing anyone. With a defeated sigh, he pulls the two bottles from the pockets over his calves (People rarely look down when they have somewhere they need to be, so the chances of someone other than Ritch noticing those two and the two lumps in his nearly-untied boots then commenting on it are lower than people seem to think). He then tries to get the bottle out again, but the three in the back start slipping, but if he tries to keep them from falling, then the bottles in the front will fall.

Realizing how stupid this delema is since it’s his bottles that are about to go down his pants and not anyone else’s, he simply pulls out Anderson’s bottle and lets the rest drop down his pant legs. He tightens up his belt, then removes the two from in his boots and lets the fallen wine coolers in his pant legs slip to the ground unharmed.

“Jesus fucking christ, you actually had 16 bottles tucked away.” Connor looks up and sees Hank shaking his head in disbelief. “How in the fuck did you manage that? Actually, why would you try to do this in the first place?”

“I got bored, and despite what everyone thinks of me, I’m not a rule-following teacher’s pet.” He sits on the ground and starts working on lacing his boots properly. “I just make sure that my ‘crimes’ aren’t serious and are done without anyone noticing.” He finishes tying boots onto his feet, then looks up to smirk up at the ex-pilot. “Like hiding 16 bottles of alcohol in various places and delivering seven of them to someone who’s supposed to not have them.” He starts stuffing the coolers on the ground away in his pockets, not wanting to impose on the other man too much longer.

“And where did you say you got all of this from? A celebration?”

Connor nods and stands up. “Some of my and Ritch’s mutual friends had a small gathering with copious amounts of alcohol because tonight we found out we’re staying!” Connor beams. It feels very strange on his face after so long of being in a tense or panic-like state. “And with the way Marshal Fowler was speaking, it sounds like we’ll be able to graduate as soon as we find partners to pilot with. So that’s what all this is,” he gestures to the bottles, “It’s a thanks for that, because he mentioned in passing that you spoke to him, and he trusts your judgement of people.”

Connor sees Mr. Anderson’s expression of surprise, and doesn’t try to work out if it’s a good or negative type. He just waits patiently, knowing that he’s probably trying to figure out a way to say something. That’s what these lengthy silences meant most of the other times, anyway.

“You do realize that you’ll get in big trouble for this if you’re caught. After all the paperwork stuff and everything.” It’s not the kind of thing Mr. Anderson has to work himself up to say before, but Connor is the last person to push someone for withholding potentially sensitive information or opinions.

“Then it’s a good thing I won’t be,” Connor states confidently, “I may get anxious or uncomfortable with a lot of things, but these past couple of weeks of adjusting to how things work around here are not how I usually am. I’m not normally that fragile or easy to upset. Besides,” he leans on the desk casually, “if there’s anything I’m good at, it’s yoga and stealing food and drinks. I’ve had more than enough practice growing up to feel confident in my abilities to get away with tonight’s heist, Mr. Anderson.”

He stands up straight again before blinking in shock at himself. He just mentioned a detail of his childhood and isn’t affected by it. Hell, now he’s actively thinking about how he and Ritch had to sneak out of the house with stolen money if they ever wanted any kind of junk food and he’s still completely unbothered by the memory. There must be more alcohol in his system than he thought. Just how many wine coolers did he have to drink in order to get loose like this?

“It’s Hank.”

Connor snaps his head up, not knowing when it lowered in the first place. He’s extremely glad all of his bottles are tucked safely away because if he was still holding one, he might have just dropped it on the hard floor.

“I’m sorry?” he asks politely. There’s no way the Mr. Anderson is asking Connor, the annoying kid with the fucked up head, to call him by his first name.

It’s extremely disrespectful to call someone older than you anything other than Miss, Misses, or Mister, even if they’re only older by five years, Amanda’s voice informs in his head.

Never judge a person purely based on their age. Some people, like you, are completely mature despite their age still being a comparatively small number. Some people, like Howard over there, still act like children even though they’re older than me. Treat a person with a careful balance of how they act and what social standards require, the same voice scolds louder.

“Look, if you’re still going to bug me during lunch and dinner, then I’d rather you just call me Hank.” He sighs and looks away. “Having someone like you call me ‘Mr. Anderson’ makes me feel old, and honestly? A little fuckin’ creeped out too. Mister and miss or whatever is reserved for children, and you don’t look like a fuckin’ child to me.”

For the first time in a long while, Connor chooses to ignore Amanda’s irritated voice in his head. He’ll only call him Hank because the other wants him to, and he has a feeling that they’re something he calls “quiet friends”. Friends without stating it and never mentioning as much for one or both people's sake, but still friends nonetheless. But in the end, it doesn’t matter because either way, Connor feels accomplished. He just made his first friend that didn’t tie in to Ritch at all.

Connor realizes too late that he hesitated for a tad too long, so he tries to break the growing tension with a very bad joke.

“Well then, Hank, you can just call me Connor, now. No ‘Mr. Stern’ necessary anymore.”

It takes Mr. And– Hank a second to understand the joke that he never once called Connor by his last name before, then he’s shaking his head at the ceiling with a huff of amusement.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Most likely. Hopefully it won’t be too painful, though.” Connor smirks.

Hank looks back down with a scowl, but Connor swears he can see mirth in his eyes.

“Just get out of here and go to fucking bed before anyone gets any wrong– or right– ideas.” he nods to the door.

Connor nods and quickly gets to the door. However, he pauses just as he’s about to open it, then turns back to Hank.

“As I said before, I won’t be doing this again and feeding your issue, Hank. I’m just acknowledging that quitting cold turkey like Marshal Fowler wants you to can be dangerous. You still need to work on slowing down with the goal of stopping.” He pauses to see if the ex-pilot has anything to say, which he doesn’t besides a sigh. “Good night, Hank. If, uh, you ever really need sleep one night, I’d be willing to give you some of the oil that allowed me to sleep for two days during my mood dip.”

Was that only last week? Or was it the week before?

“Thank you, Connor. I may take you up on that.” He sounds surprisingly genuine, and the trainee can’t stop the small smile from appearing. “Now get out of here before I decide to hate you again.”

He nods quickly, not bothering to hide his elation that Hank basically admitted that he likes him, and opens the door. “I hope your night gets better.” he says as he shuts the door.

Ritch is already in bed by the time he makes it back, but he doesn’t question Connor about his whereabouts. That means he probably knows exactly what he was doing and confirms Connor’s assumptions that he knew about the hidden alcohol bottles. Oh well; Ritch probably isn’t too put off by it since he never said anything despite obviously holding off sleep until he got back. They both sleep soundly that night.

The next morning, Connor is in the training area doing his morning stretches with Ritch at his side when he sees the Jericho Squad walk in, very obviously hungover. Simon and Josh don’t look as bad, but North is in the worst shape, unsurprisingly. She squints against the lights of the room and stumbles directly behind Markus, who doesn’t appear to be miserable, but also isn’t smiling and chatting along with Josh and Simon like he usually does. North suddenly turns her head and immediately spots Connor.

“How the fuck are you two not miserable?” she shouts across the room.

She opens her mouth to probably yell again, but Connor quickly stands up from his spot in the corner and moves over to their group so they won’t call anymore unnecessary attention to themselves. He doesn’t hear echoing footsteps behind him, so Ritch must have stayed behind to properly finish his stretches.

“I’m not miserable because I kept my drinking under control.” He answers quietly as soon as he’s close enough to. “Besides, once you’re jaeger pilots, excessive drinking isn’t allowed anymore, so you guys should start practicing prohibition.” Connor scolds in a teasing tone.

“Well,” Simon begins, “lucky for us, we aren’t actually pilots. Only trainees, so we can do what we want for now.”

“But Ritch and I probably will be as soon as we find suitable partners, so I don’t expect us to–” Connor’s teasing is interrupted by North.

“Woah, woah woah woah. You mean to tell me that not only are you guys sticking around, but you’re graduating early too? And you didn’t even tell us? How skilled are you exactly? What the hell...”

Connor thought someone who is this hungover would be quieter.

“Did Ritch not tell any of you last night?” Everyone shakes their head. “Oh... Huh. Well, as soon as we retake evaluations and find partners, we’ll probably be graduating and moving on as pilots.” Connor pauses, “I think that’s kind of a problem, though, because as far as I know, there’s only one more jaeger, and by regulation, each pair needs their own in case of an emergency where every available pilot is needed–”

“Wow, yup. Already boring me.” North bluntly states.

Connor makes a mental note to not talk about jaegers and regulations while she’s around. It’s odd that she wants to be a jaeger pilot but doesn’t want to hear anything about the jaegers. Maybe that’s part of the reason the passing rate of this training is so low? Some have the skills and drive to fight kaijus, but not enough desire to keep up with the less exciting things (if putting one’s life in danger by fighting ginormous aliens can even be considered “exciting”).

“North!” Markus chides, ”Just because you hate memorizing all of this stuff doesn’t mean everyone does. Leave him be! Besides, you’re gonna have to know all of it if you actually wanna fight kaijus.”

“Connor’s right, you know.” Ritch’s voice points out from behind him suddenly. “About everything. I don’t know what Fowler plans to do with two possible new pairs and only one known jaeger, unless he has some prototypes hidden up his sleeve, but those would have to be in testing stages now, not available for pilots to use quite yet.” He crosses his arms and looks to the side, a tell that Ritch is thinking through something carefully. “The only thing I can think of is that he has one that’s almost out of testing that we just haven’t heard of yet for whatever reason. Or he just didn’t want to miss a chance having at least two more pilots around here and compromised with whoever about this, despite only having one available jaeger.”

Josh nods, shifting his weight onto his other leg, “I think it’s more the second reason than the first. There haven’t been nearly as many people looking to be jaeger pilots since the propaganda stopped standing a chance against the horror stories on the internet and news.”

Everyone silently nods their agreement.

“Either way,” Connor begins, “I don’t actually know how often we’ll see each other outside of meals now. With us having to redo our evaluations and partner hunting and stuff.”

“I doubt they’ll keep us out of the class, Connor.” Ritch doesn’t bother to turn to look at him like he would with someone else, knowing he wouldn’t be put off by it. “I don’t know if we’ll still be top of the class, since we’ll likely be overqualified for what stage everyone here is at, but I don’t see why Luther and Chloe wouldn’t let us stay and help, even if it isn’t your favorite thing to do.”

Connor shakes his head with a shrug, “It really isn’t. I don’t like leadership roles like you do.”

Ritch nods. Connor has a feeling they’re both thinking about how Amanda didn’t mind this particular dynamic between them, even though it took a bit of time for her to warm up to it. Before Connor can get too wrapped up in his head, North snaps him out of it.

“So you gonna show us what you can really do today, since you were supposedly holding last time? Which I still don’t believe, by the way.” she challenges with a certain glint in her eye that he has grown to dislike.

“No.” he retorts at the same time as Ritch. Everyone goes quiet.

Connor continues quietly, “We weren’t holding back as much as we have with everything else last time. I don’t want to have to do it again and get hurt worse…”

“I agree. I don’t like fighting against Connor.”

“The only things I want to fight are kaijus and assholes.”

“Snobbish, biggoted assholes.” Ritch specifies.

Out of the corner of his eye, Connor spots a few other students entering the training area, so instead of correcting Ritch that he would fight any asshole if they did something to warrant it and have his brother inevitably push back against that, Connor just huffs. Ritch will understand that he means it as a show of disagreement; and he does, if his version of an eye roll is anything to go by.

“Well, I suppose I better go off and try to find some kind of jaeger partner. I’m going to need a lot more time than Ritch because… Well, you all know exactly how I was when we were trying to get to know each other.” Connor smiles genuinely. If there’s one thing he can do right, it’s turn his short-comings into jokes or some form of amusement for himself.

Although, everyone except Ritch smiles awkwardly, so Connor immediately knows that these people don’t really do self-deprecating jokes. Ritch simply frowns sympathetically probably because he already figured out that they don’t use that type of humor, and he takes that as his cue to actually leave. Before he can turn to leave, however, Chloe shouts Connor’s and Ritch’s names. When they look to her, she waves them over with a smile. They say a quick goodbye to the group as they calmly walk over. Connor is painfully aware of all the silent attention they’re getting.

“Just as Marshal Fowler said yesterday, you need to start reevaluations today. Would you prefer to do them over in the gym, or in here? I can’t promise we’ll have the gym to ourselves, but it may be less crowded than in here.”

He looks to Ritch, who gives him a sort of curious look. It’s up to Connor, then. He turns back to Chloe and shrugs with a polite smile.

“I guess in here is fine. It seems more convenient than going all the way there then back again in a few hours.”

“Are we going to have to do the combat evaluations again?” Ritch cuts in, “Because I will not fight against Connor again if that’s the case.”

Chloe blinks, her features turning into a careful balance of blank and attentive. She blinks again when neither Ritch or Connor expand on the request.

“Did you hold back that much the first time?” she half-jokes lightly, but he sees the slight concern in her eyes.

The only responses she gets for several moments are Ritch’s shoulders tensing and Connor looking away nervously. Although, it’s obvious she’s waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation.

Ritch sighs and finally answers quietly, “It’s dangerous for us to not hold back when we’re not fighting to kill.”

Connor only nods solemnly in agreement.

Chloe takes a deep breath before speaking, “Okay then, you won’t have to do that over again.” She flips through her clipboard of papers and marks something down quickly, “So let’s skip to flexibility, okay? Go ahead and line up against the wall.” She nods her head to the area next to the doorway where some basic equipment is.

They go through the basic stretches. For the sit and reach, they use the block, adjusting the measurements to their size, and start with both legs on it, then just one at a time with the other bent. Ritch does above average, and Connor does extremely well if Chloe’s expression means anything.

Next is the v-sit, so Chloe has Ritch put his feet against the wall and lean forward down the middle, then lean to each side. It turns out that he’s a bit more flexible on his right side than left for whatever reason. He’s then told to bend to the middle and touch his toes, which he does relatively easily. When Connor starts, he foregoes the wall, despite the confused look Chloe gives him, and lets Ritch hold his feet in place while he leans forward. He can almost put his forehead on the floor, and when leaning to either side, he lightly rests it on his knees. Chloe starts marking on her clipboard again, and Connor has to ignore the numerous stares he feels from the other side of the room.

The rest of the stretches go similarly. Next they stand and touch their toes (Ritch manages to do so, but Connor is able to put his palms flat on the floor and bends his arms), then they move on to the butterfly stretch, calf flexibility test (they both pass this one with flying colors), side bending, and trunk rolls (this is the easiest one for both of them). Before they know it, almost an hour and a half has gone by and they’re done with their official stretches.

“Hey guys,” Chloe calls the twin’s attention quietly. She continues when both of them look at her. “Do you mind if I do just a couple more stretches? We did the same thing for North and Traci. It’s to see if we should start designing a jaeger that has more rotation and flexibility for our more bendy pilots.”

Connor looks to Ritch, who answers. “Sure, whatever you need.”

She smiles. “Can you do some lunges?”

They both nod and get into position and hold it easily. Chloe marks something in her book before she tells them to sit on the ground and spread their legs as far as they can go. Ritch raises an eyebrow at Connor for whatever reason before attempting to do the splits. Connor easily does it, then holds the position as he puts his chest to the ground, then sits back up. When Ritch gets up to shift the direction of his legs, leaning into something close to a lunge, Connor doesn’t get completely up, instead just sitting then shifting his legs over. He leans forward towards his knee then, too, just as he taught himself, then sits up, torso perpendicular to the ground and his legs.

“Surprising,” Chloe states in a praising tone, jotting something else down on her clipboard.

Ritch gets up and smirks down at Connor. He can’t stop himself from smiling back a bit as he gets up too. It’s nice to actually be praised for something that he had only gotten huffed at for in the past. Now he’s kind of glad that he missed this evaluation altogether while he was going through his mood dip because he wouldn’t have wanted to hold back. Plus, having to rush off to let the next person go and/or having everyone’s undivided attention on him would make this nerve-racking, even if he would’ve held back.

A sudden wolf whistle from across the room shoves him out of his thoughts.

“Yass Connor!” North yells obnoxiously, gathering most people’s attention to them, “Show ‘em who’s queen!”

“North, why are you like this?” Connor shakes his head, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. That question is better than what he actually wants to ask; are you still somehow drunk?

“Wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t.” She then winks and blows Connor a kiss and a winks, the entire act overplayed and an obvious show of teasing him. Maybe she’s overplaying being okay so people don’t suspect her actual hungover state too much.

Connor just sighs and shakes his head again, watching Ritch as he does his equivalent of an eye roll.

“Alright boys,” Chloe says behind them, “do you want to do stamina and cardio next or strength and weights?”

Ritch and Connor glance at each other, then nod simultaneously.

“We’ll do cardio today since we’re already stretched for it, if we can push strength to tomorrow?” Ritch answers, the end sounding like a question rather than a reply.

Their instructor smiles, “Sure, that works for me! Let’s head over to the gym for the equipment, then.”

The rest of their time before lunch is spent doing various cardio and stamina tests. Most of their time is spent on the treadmills and exercise bikes for sprinting and and different kinds of endurance. Chloe gives nothing away about how well they did this time, and they return to the training area just as the rest of the class is finishing up punching techniques with Luther. They’re all released at the same time to go shower before lunch. Connor and Ritch are told to head to the testing room instead of here when they finish lunch so they can retake their written evaluations.

Connor lets Ritch have a shower first and picks up their room a bit. It’s not really messy, just a few stray clothes in a pile on the ground around the hamper instead of in it, but it gives him a reason to do some very-needed organization in their desk drawers. He spots his journal in the third drawer and suddenly remembers several things from last night and this morning he wanted to write down.

He writes down North’s hatred for regulation and technical talk. He then adds that he thinks Josh will probably transfer over to the science section of this entire operation, and that North may pair up with Traci if that’s the case and she’s not let go for her lack of interest. He notes that Traci used to be a dancer and is ranked at least third in their class, if not first or second, so she may be a good partner candidate. With that, he starts writing down everyone’s personality and the likelihood that they’ll leave or their partner will leave, and the probability of them leaving if their partner does. He immediately crosses out a bit more than half of the names in the class just from this, knowing he would never work well with them, so he moves on to the active pilots.

He writes that Gavin is much more likely to partner up with Ritch than himself, since they apparently know each other already, and crosses that name off without writing anything about his character down. Pretty much everyone else he knows of has a partner they work well with, and even with insufficient data, he knows that the chances are low to none of them wanting to suddenly switch partners or share.

He makes a quick note of Hank’s favorite whiskey and how Hank used to have a dog and probably still loves it according to Marshal Fowler. He’s finishing jotting down the fact he’s probably Connor’s “quiet friend” while idly wondering if Hank would ever consider getting another dog when Ritch steps out of the bathroom.

“You’re writing in that journal again?” Ritch says almost immediately, crossing his arms.

“Yes, because I’m going to screw up if I don’t, especially now that I need a partner.” He closes his book with a thump.

“Connor, despite what you think, you really don’t need that.” Ritch nods to his journal, sounding softer than usual, and it’s somewhat disconcerting.

“Yeah, I really do. You’re welcome to read through it if you like.” He makes a point of putting it on the desk. “So far it’s just basic temperaments of different people and the probabilities of the other trainees graduating.”

Connor walks past his brother into the bathroom to wash up, reflecting on everything he wrote down, trying to figure out if he missed anything. He doesn’t think he has.

This is going to be a lot harder than I thought, Connor thinks to himself, At least I kind of know what I’m looking for now, though. The only problem now is finding this perfect type of person within the next few weeks…

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Previous <~> Masterlist <~> Next

•◊•◊•◊•◊•

A/N: Hey guys! I am so so sorry for the huge delay for this chapter. Life decided to creep up on me and bash me over the head with a bat there for a second, plus I wanted to make some kind of art for my new TDBU masterlist, but now you should be getting updates faster from now on! I’m hoping to get back on a weekly or biweekly update schedule because I have a ton of other things I want to write, but I refuse to until I finish one of my WIPs 😂😅 Also, sorry for the ton of Connor POV recently, I promise that next chapter will be more Reed900 action!! And with that, I hope you all have a good day/night! Until the next update!

P.S. I have actually played the bottle game that Connor did. It started at one of my dad’s promotion parties when I was 15, and I wanted to see how many beers I could stash away (I wasn’t going to drink them, yuck) before an adult noticed. My high score is 12, and the only reason it isn’t 14 is because my aunt noticed me retying my boots to secure the bottles in them.

14 notes · View notes

serenagaywaterford · 5 years ago

Note

'#i am so upset at tht about this lol #(mostly cos yeah reality is that. but i'm watchign fiction dudes. gimme some character journeys. gimme development. gimme hope. #this flatline they have serena on just isn't good storytelling. straight up.)' -- i agree. & the idea i hate the most is that moss & the tht crew might have had a boner over whitford joining them & decided to give him what could have been serena's arc. the architect of the damn colonies can turn out decent but serena can't. GOT IT

“the architect of the damn colonies can turn out decent but serena can’t. GOT IT”

this is probably what drives me the most mad about the choices they made for characters in s3. lawrence literally–unequivocally and by his own admission as well as multiple other characters–created THE FUCKING COLONIES: prison labour camps where ONLY women go to suffer excruciating pain and rot from disease and DIE. he also, unarguably and explicitly, created THE ENTIRE ECONOMIC SYSTEM on which gilead relies on for its propagation and survival.

without HIM, gilead would NOT exist. and this isn’t a little thing. it’s like, it literally would have fallen apart without his massive contribution. (sure, maybe they would have found another genius economist with a penchant for brutal misogyny but as it stands, they didn’t have one. and HE STILL helps gilead survive.)

but uwu, he makes jokes and doesn’t do the ceremony and loves his wife so WHAT A GREAT GUY! LET’S GIVE HIM A RELUCTANT REDEMPTION ARC!!!!

i fucking loathe him. and he was shown multiple times even in s3 what he thinks of ALL women, and that isn’t fucking much. he’s gross. “i love my wife” YEAH sure buddy. fuck you. if you truly loved her, you wouldn’t have created an entire system where she gets fucked right over to the point she kills herself. cool beans, dude.

s3 was all about lawrence and june being reluctant allies and her working her dumbass moves on him, and that bullshit handholding at the funeral FOR THE WIFE THAT JUNE BASICALLY KILLED??? please just let me vomit in my mouth a bit.

he is not a good guy. he is not a nice guy. he does not like women. he does not care about them. he’s a pathetic little misogynist that she looks out for himself. but omg look how conflicted he is about the ceremony!!! UWU PRECIOUS BEAN, TOO PURE FOR THIS HORRIBLE WORLD!!

it’s like fandom/the showrunners are just salivating over male characters to woobiefy.

meanwhile MEANWHILE there’s a female character, the second most developed character on the entire show with the second most amount of screentime (prior to mid s3 anyway) and already a foil to june and “villain”esque character theoretically capable of change, but hey, no. let’s ignore the entire trajectory serena was on for the latter half of s2. let’s even ignore early s3 and all that set up. let’s just FUCKING FLATLINE her and make her 100% obsessed with a baby. it’s not like that storyline was already wrapped up in s2 and she’d moved on by early s3.

all so june could have some ~exciting plot of winning over lawrence and oooooh look it’s bradley whitford. what a great guy. he’s so funnieeeee and nice.

it really does feel like they aborted serena’s arc for the sake of inserting whitford into what should have been serena’s journey of gradually coming to terms with her involvement in gilead, her own overwhelming guilt about her involvement (which i would like to point out is LESS than lawrence’s contributions. just so we’re all on the same page). and i know miller has said he “doesn’t believe in redemption arcs” (bullshit. that’s pure bullshit. they exist whether you believe in them or not, for one thing.) but lawrence’s character has been doing EXACTLY that. and all the fandom is frothing about how amazing he is blah blah blah. fucking miss me with that. i will NEVER root for a man who has done that to women and is a KEY player in gilead. he didn’t just help invent it, he CURRENTLY still sustains it. he seemed to have little concern for ANYBODY even at the beginning of s3. yet still he’s a hero. (at least the character is like “oooh i’m not a hero” which kinda sounded totally insincere to me. the same way people throw pity parties for themselves.)

but god forbid a problematic female character portrayed by a fantastic (but lesser known) actress gets the same generosity. and what’s even crazier is that the audience was generally in favor and excited about serena joining june in the resistance prior to s3, and even in the beginning episodes of s3. based on social media anyway.

but no……….

i just….

it infuriates me how they chose to give what could have been a decent character arc for serena to lawrence instead (and to take that from yvonne and hand it over to whitford cos he’s just so great. rolling my eyes so hard.). and everyone is just like “yasss king! we love you!! what great guy for saving those kids!!! yay redemption for lawrence! i love brad whitford so amazing give him an emmy!!!”

i get they need to keep serena around and in some sort of conflict for june.

actually no. i don’t get it. i don’t think it’s necessary at this point to have a female adversary of that degree for june. i think she could easily be a complicated/conflicted ally, or at least not a direct enemy of june’s. the SYSTEM is evil enough and produces enough conflict on its own. june no longer needs the personification of it and neither do we. just… ugh. stagnating the MOST complex character on the show (fight me. serena as a character was more complex and dynamic than june.) for the sake of throwing her in some stupid sideplot that had nothing to do with the protagonist, and made her entire story arc stall into a dead stop was a dumbass fucking move. the whole fred thing dragged her the fuck down cos there was zero acknowledgement or exploration of the actual dynamic of the domestic abuse cycle which was PLAINLY visible in early s3. instead it was just NICHOLEEEEEE!!!!! GIVE ME BABBY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MUST HAVE BABBY!!!!!!!!!! every single character motivation serena had in s3 was a fucking sexist trope about women and baby fever. (not that they wrote june much better but this rant is about the shit they pulled with serena.)

there is no depth to any conflict anymore. and what drives me even crazier is that the few scenes with june and serena are still 100 times more interesting because of the pre-existing chemistry and dynamic they still have. but instead we’ve just got the same fucking scene of june/lawrence over and over for 8 episodes. “ooh is he a friend or foe? oh i will manipulate him! he is an ally! oh maybe he’s a foe, or friend, or foe, or friend?! who cares!! look how he lubs childrens! uwu!!”

they seem absolutely intent on keeping serena a villain, to the point of total irrationality. and the only way to do that is strip her character of any nuance and give her a singular and stupid motivation and pair that with a really boring and flat subplot. cos, organically, the character WOULD develop and learn and change, but since they’re fucking obsessed with not giving her anything even resembling “redemption” for some bullshit reason, they’ve thrown her entire narrative arc under the bus and just left her there.

and people wonder why i have no interest in s4. it’s cos of this shit. why the fuck would i be interested in watching yet another season of serena doing fuck all? (ooh a trial? BORING and guaranteed to make no rational sense. back to gilead? what for?! they’re never going to let her change/grow anyway!)… and june being painted as some saint and saviour, despite being not that much better anymore. and Lawrence being lauded as a goddamn hero for doing the very fucking bare minimum for no real discernible reason we’ve seen other than june’s oh so amazing ~wiles. like please.

i can’t stand june anymore. i fucking loathe lawrence (to me, he’s just nick 2.0). i don’t care about fred. moira and emily who? and am butthurt about what they’ve done to serena’s character journey (and can’t see that changing if miller, moss, & co. are so itnent on keeping her “evil”). so s4 doesn’t seem that fun to me.

and the fact everyone seems to have a hard on for whitford, including cast and crew just makes me angry. sure, give this dude all the good shit. take it away from the amazing female actors and just give it to him. why not? THT is male-run anyway and IT SHOWS. he should have been a minor character, not the focus next to june. (don’t even get me started on how fiennes gets second billing in the credits before yvonne cos i am so livid every single time i see taht.)

whatever, THT. whatever. bye. ugh.

wow anyway that was a rant i didn’t expect to make. thanks anon for drawing that out. i think i’ve been sitting on it a while lol.

i have a lot of rage.

#the misogyny is wild #it's like fandom just replaced their desperation to woobiefy nick with lawrence instead #super that's awesome i'm glad that's how this show thinks it should tell a story about women's oppression #just ignore half the women and make them evil!!!#give none of them except the ''crazy'' one any sympathetic storyline #yeah cool #how feminist #Anonymous

9 notes · View notes

manifestoonmoralmanlove · 5 years ago

Text

Blameless? Shameless? More like Shiftless: Wrap-up

I grumbled and fumbled through the first book in the series Soulless or Brainless. I fumed and gloomed through the second book Changeless or Gormless.

Now we’re onto the last book of the (initial) trilogy Blameless or...how I originally wanted to riff it...

But, I do not have riffs for you for this book. Why? I thought this series would end because I would run out of energy for it. That’s not what happened...the true reason, is that this book is BY FAR the best out of the three, and that because of that most of my riffs aren’t very funny. Despite that, I would not classify this book as GOOD by my standards. I think it’s barely mediocre and fixed a lot of problems the other books had. So I feel as if I have to concede a bit here.

Instead of riffs, you’ll be getting a summary and my review so I feel as if I can tie this off with a nice little bow.

Summary:

Obvious spoilers ahead.

The world is steampunk supernatural Victorian England. Vampires and Werewolves are real things, and there are also soulless. Soulless are another set of supernaturals that can negate the powers of vampires and werewolves with touch. Alexia is a soulless, and is married to an important werewolf Maccon. Alexia becomes pregnant by Maccon, however werewolves are not supposed to be able to have children. So Maccon is convinced she cheated and abandons her.

Alexia goes back to live with her family. She discovers her one vampire friend has split town without warning, and that every other vampire is out to kill her for this pregnancy. However she wants to prove that the child is Maccon, so she decides to go to Italy with her friends. Italy is a country that’s run by religious zealots out to murder every single supernatural person and DESPITE THE OBVIOUS benefits a soulless could provide that organization they treat soulless people shitty too. However, they suspect that with all the research they’ve done, they will have some information which can prove Alexia right. So Alexia travels to Italy with her dead dad’s stoic bodyguard Floote, and with a woman who has a crush on her named LeFoux.

Meanwhile her husband Maccon is being shitfaced and angsting a bunch about this. His 2nd in command Lyall is taking care of all his duties. Eventually Maccon sobers up and publishes a public apology for Alexia and claims that the baby is in fact his. Also on this end it is discovered that Alexia’s vampire friend Akeldama had his boyfriend kidnapped. So Maccon and Lyall manage to rescue the boyfriend, murdering the head vampire and being forced to change the boyfriend into a werewolf to save his life.

On the trip to Italy they battle a bunch of vampires and meet some allies. When they get to Italy they’re captured by the religious Zealots known as the Templars. When the Templars find out she’s with child they lock her in the dungeon. However with the help of her friends and Maccon they rescue her. Maccon and Alexia make up and happy end.

My review:

The story in itself…is simply not good. I could list you plot holes by the dozen by neither of us has the patience for that I’m sure. I think the sticking point for me is that their whole mission feels pretty pointless. They go through all this hassle getting to Italy (which honestly seemed like a super bad idea) while also being attacked by vampires the entire time and for what? To find out that yes she could get pregnant from a werewolf?

….Don’t we already know that since she’s uhh pregnant from a werewolf?

The lore of this book is super bad. All the major plot points hinge on nobody understanding anything about a rare but super fascinating and important race of people. It feels as if the author doesn’t really care about her own lore, and makes everybody in her fictional world the same. Also it’s kinda hard for me to believe, that even if female soulless are super rare that literally in this world’s whole history a female soulless has become pregnant by a supernatural person twice. TWICE! IN IT’S ENTIRE HISTORY! SEEMS LEGIT!

But there is a reason this is the best out of the three I swear!

I think the story starts off really strong with believable and easy-to-understand exposition that draws you in. I legit read the first chapter of this book and was like, “WHAT THE FUCK, WE’RE A GOOD SERIES NOW!?!??!”

I think a large part of what makes it better for me is that they finally treat this series like an action/adventure. There are lot of vampire battles, fighting weird technology, and dramatic escapes using wild steampunk vehicles. We also have Maccon fighting werewolves and vampires, and dramatically saving a person from a glass bubble from the bottom of a river.

The steampunk technology used here is just straight up really lame and forced but I think that’s easily forgiven in a silly action adventure novel.

I think the POINT of books of this nature. Is the fun action! We also pace this all together well. We have suspense, breaks from the action, and it’s not all the same pow pow fight scene by a long shot. I will say there isn’t a lot of suspense that she won’t be able to make it out alive. Nobody dies or even sustains any kind of serious injury. The protagonists seem to fight as if they’re invincible, but oddly enough LeFoux spends a lot of the later scenes almost instantly getting knocked unconscious. Which I suppose is fine to up the ante of the tension but she’s the only one who gets that treatment and she gets it a lot…which is kind weird.

Speaking of LeFoux, I was really bummed about her and Alexia’s relationship in this book. One of the few enjoyable things about the last book was the lesbian flirting and the unresolved sexual tension between LeFoux and Alexia. Sure Alexia didn’t know lesbians were a THING but it was quite clear that Alexia was attracted to LeFoux. In this book LeFoux continues to flirt with Alexia but Alexia treats it like a droll annoyance. Quite frankly it doesn’t make any sense if you’ve read the last book. Alexia is at her lowest point in her relationship to her shitty husband, there is mutual attraction, LeFoux treats her nicely and is very willing, they’re off on an exciting and at points romantic tour of France, Alexia is on the cusp of a huge life change without her family or her husband’s support, and LeFoux is raising a child too. I get that Maccon/Alexia has got to be OTP and that you don’t want her to look like she would actually cheat since, cause she’s gotta be morally better than the negative reputation she’s getting in the press. Yet at no point is a relationship with LeFoux treated as even a temptation for her. There isn’t even like a sub plot where Alexia worries about hurting LeFoux’s feelings or clearly explains that they can’t be together. LeFoux has no reaction when Alexia reconciles with her husband. It’s not treated as fucking anything more than comedic swatting down of lesbian advances. So honestly? That kinda made me angry. Now Alexia did sexually assault LeFoux last book and totally doesn’t deserve her but to treat her now as they wacky queer who hits on your Mary-Sue so you remember your Mary-Sue is hot is utterly aggravating.

The story still has the major problem of being such a no bummers train that she won’t dare give LeFoux and Alexia a messy relationship. It could have been so much more compelling ugh! A part of me wonders if the author originally intended for the two to get together this novel since there was all that previous build up and the set up here makes it ideal. Yet an editor said BIG NO to it, because apparently a hero cheating in a book is considered one of the most toxic of novel poisons. OH WELL!

But a female/female relationship that is way better in this book? That would be the friendship between Ivy and Alexia. In the last book, Ivy was the stupid comic relief with romantic troubles. Alexia spent the last book just being a condescending asshole to her. Ivy never treated Alexia’s bullshit romantic troubles with anything other than support and respect but did not get the same in return. They did not seem like friends. Ivy was there to make Alexia look better and for a cheap laugh at Ivy’s expense even though she does nothing wrong. That was garbage. In this book however Ivy trusts Alexia that she didn’t cheat, gives her all her love and support, gives her tea for her trip, and competently runs LeFoux’s hat shop while they’re both away. In exchange Alexia appreciates what Ivy is doing and treats her like a smart person capable of doing difficult tasks.

I said it before and I’ll say it again. Ivy is MVP of this series and you CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!

But while we’re talking about relationships the crux of this series is Alexia and Maccon. I wonder if this is my favorite book of the series because they barely interact in person. The one time at the end where they reconcile was unbearable. Basically the just barely escape the dungeon and the entire crew is standing just outside it. Alexia goes on a tirade about how much she hates Maccon but she’s very obviously pretending to be mad at him, and it’s the most pathetic scene in the series. It was rushed and painfully awkward. We just immediately forget about any possible danger and the other people there so Alexia can pointlessly pout while we all pretend its agency. (It’s not.) We also than very quickly transition them to a RANDOM barn so they can have sex, which is fade to black anyway.

I can’t help but view their reconciliation as a desperate woman who’s been through a lot, wants so badly for things to be less chaotic and familiar again that she capitulates to a shit boy garbage man. She has many, many, many reasons to be properly mad at him. She is shunned by her family, loses her job, becomes a social outcast who can’t walk down the street without being harassed, and is the target of open and constant vampire hostility. But he publishes a public apology and now they’re even. The public apology is talked about as ~humiliating~ but he loses nothing for it. The series tries to sell us that they’re equals in this relationship cause they sass each other. They are not equals in this relationship. The series never seems to acknowledge that Alexia does like 90% of the work and gets way more shit than Maccon could ever dream of. Not that the series has to have a political message, it just seems so doped up by our shit heterosexual culture that it has no self-awareness. I dislike Alexia for being a bad person, but Maccon is a worse person who doesn’t do anything good and lives a charmed life while his wife suffers quicker and more severely. And what do we get out of it? Dialog that can be boiled down to…

“Let’s have sex”

“No you’re a gross terrible very bad man!”

“Oh okay, I’ll go over here to contribute nothing and whine a lot.”

“I MEAN MAYBE IT WON’T BE SO BAD TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU???????????”

“…Is that a yes?”

“YOU VERY BAD MAN WHO IS GROSS AND TERRIBLE! I WILL NEVER HAVE SEX WITH YOU.............................................................

.............................................................….unless?”

I hate it very much.

So let’s talk other characters:

Floote is boring and pointless.

Tunstell shows up briefly to be comedic relief and really bad comedic relief at that. He shows up in LeFoux’s lab and opens with him being very afraid of her wacky technology but then immediately starts sticking his fingers in dangerous stuff. Way to contradict your character in under a paragraph.

The way Channing was established last book, while making him look like a shitbird, gave him personality. In this book he’s there as a protective prop to make Maccon look marginally better. None of his personality comes out at all, and despite the last book showing him as a romantic rival there is 0 of that in this book. I don’t think he has more than 3 lines of dialog.

LeFoux’s one friend was also pointless and personality-less to the point I can’t even be bother to look up his name. He existed so they could dramatically borrow his flying contraption.

The villains of this series are two-fold:

We have the Templars who are religious zealots who want to kill all supernaturals and are disgusted by Alexia’s kind despite how useful she could be. They were not good villains because they are utterly pathetic. They let Alexia and her friends have the run of the place. While they can go outside the compound, once captured, they’re followed to make sure they return. However, the author did not do an adequate job making that atmosphere…even stressful. The pack of them should be frightened by this. They should be treading on eggshells because one wrong move and it’s an inquisition for them! …No they zip around enjoying pesto and don’t seem to have a care in the world.

Even when the fight is brought to them? They spend their whole lives training to kill supernaturals but when they get a chance to do so to protect Alexia they’re not very good at it. 3 podunk humans managed to evade capture by the entire vampire community as they trotted through Europe but zealots trained from birth to stake vampires fall left and right when they’re attacked by them?

OH YEAH, REALLY FEELING LIKE THEY’RE A LEGIT THREAT! THANKS FOR THAT!

Oh but don’t worry we have another villain to help balance things out!

We have Langs-Dorf or whatever the fuck his name is. He is a heartless dude who researches soulless. He basically wants to use her for experiments so he later teams up with the Templars and spills the beans that’s she’s preggorz.

He, like the Templars, are flaccid shit tier babies. He’s the archetypal sniveling scientist, who can’t even outwit them. He honestly doesn’t even really get much screen-time. I am not exaggerating when I say they dedicate more time to describing what his irritating dog gets up to than what he does. They did that for comedic purposes, sure okay whatever. But it’s not funny and the ankle attacking just highlights how harmless he is as well.

So Alexia’s pregnancy?

I mean, they do try to give her a character arc on how she feels about carrying a child. It starts with her calling it an inconvenience and just assuming she’ll miscarry eventually. Yet later is like, “Well I guess it’s okay if it lives.” I’m glad they tried but they didn’t do a good job. Little time is dedicated to her personal feelings on the matter and her steps in pregnancy acceptance feel disjointed. It felt very much like,

Chapter 1:

This sucks.

Chapter 10:

Well I’m not morning sick today.

Chatper 20: I guess it’s okay.

I get we can’t talk about her wanting an abortion cause EVERYTHING IS GOOD TIMES but this no-bummers train cruising straight into never-frown-town we’re on here really stamps down her ability to have a MEANINGFUL arc not just on her role of her impending motherhood but like recognizing it’s going to be whole different human being. ISN’T HER PREGNANCY SUPPOSED TO BE THE CORNERSTONE OF THIS WHOLE BOOK?! Like at least 50 shades had Ana recognize her pregnancy as ANOTHER POTENTIAL PERSON and that she wanted to protect it even after her shitty husband lost his mind over it.

But I mean…for Alexia it’s at least in character cause she doesn’t give a shit about anything besides herself. Alexia has not won me over as a relatable protagonist I want to root for. She’s self-obsessed, and dumb. Yet the whole world clamors about how great she is. She never has consequences tied to her negative choices or personality traits. She never gets in trouble for going into dangerous situations without planning. Nor does she get in trouble for her lack of empathy, or belligerence. What she does get in trouble for is being born a soulless woman. It feeds her smug martyr complex and overall is pretty fucking annoying.

TL;DR

Plot and characters? Bad

But this time the story has action, suspense, good pacing, and Ivy never did anything wrong. Good!

#soulless #changless #blameless #shameless #riffs #review

2 notes · View notes

vagrantblvrd · 5 years ago

Text

How about some mini-fics (ficlets???) from today’s GTA V video???

Alfreyco

====

The problem with dealing with independents like Alfredo is that -

“Sorry Trevor, it’s not personal,” he says, shrug in his voice. “Business.”

Trevor scoffs as he looks down at the zip ties around his wrists.

“Kinky,” he murmurs, and bites back a smirk at the sudden cough Alfredo seems to have contracted running around in this weather without a proper jacket and all. (Cold season, so tragic.) “Mind telling me who hired you this time?”

Alfredo gives Trevor a look, a shrug, and gentle hand on his shoulder to urge him along, answer enough because Trevor’s question aren’t part of the rules they set in place. (Cheating, really.)

“Don’t worry about it,” Alfredo says, tossing in a saucy little wink for good measure. “Not like you’ll be around here long.”

Yes, well.

The problem with dealing with independents like Alfredo is that Trevor likes him, doesn’t he.

Allows him to get away with this nonsense to bolster his reputation, draw more business his way. (Not every day you bag a Fake, let alone someone of Trevor’s standing.)

Because here’s the thing, about independents like Alfredo, you see.

People hire him to bring in troublemakers like Trevor. Have him hunt them down truss them up all nice and pretty for them. Pay him handsomely for it before they see him out the door.

Not his problem if they can’t hold on to said troublemaker once his part in things is done.

“Fine, fine,” Trevor sighs, glad it’s his day off so he won’t miss anything fun like meetings with B-Team to deal with the minutia involved in keeping a crew like theirs running or whatever chaos the core group has caused this time. “But I get to pick where we go for dinner on our next date.”

They’re not so much dates as Trevor extolling the benefits and whatnot of Alfredo joining their little band of misfits, but that whole business of tomayto versus tomahto and all.

“Deal,” Alfredo says, big old happy grin on his face that Trevor may or may not find endearing as hell.

(There’s a reason the crew loves to give Trevor shit regarding how kidnap-able he is when it comes to Alfredo.)

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

Trevyan

====

“So,” Ryan purrs. Smug little smirk on his face and all-over insufferable. “About what you said earlier.”

Trevor sighs, because he’s got a big mouth and stupid brain and Ryan’s everything just does things to him.

He doesn’t correct Ryan’s misconception because the infuriating bastard will just twist it back on him, get this pleased little air to him while he does. (Trevor had meant the training exercise, not...bedroom activities, but Ryan’s very much Ryan, isn't he.)

This, right here? Ryan cornering him in a little out of the way place on one of the lower floors of the crew’s base is a problem.

Or should be, because Trevor’s got things to do, places to be. Can’t spend all day in the depths of the building with Mr. Vagabond like this, and yet -

“Tell you what,” Trevor says. Pitches his voice low, because secrets, and watches Ryan lean in further because who needs personal space bubbles? “You let me take care of crew business and we’ll talk all about it at home, hm?”

Trevor cheats a little. Rests his hand on Ryan’s chest, heartbeat strong and steady under his palm and this little smile on his face because Ryan is a study in contrasts. Complicated bastard, but he’s easy too.

Soft heart under everything and a lot of love to give, and he lets Trevor get away with far too much.

Ryan makes this noise in his throat and waggles his eyebrows in a patently ridiculous move.

“Oh really?”

Trevor snorts, because while Ryan is capable of pulling off suave when the situation warrants he’s too much of a lovable goofball when he’s not acting.

“We’ll have to see about that one, now won’t we,” he says, and presses a little kiss to the side of Ryan’s mouth as he ducks around him. “Now be good and help me with the armory inventory.”

They need to re-stock after the last heist, little jobs and training sessions since then, and have let it slide too long as it is. B-Team is getting increasingly passive aggressive in their e-mails the last few days.

There’s a sigh behind him, because Trevor’s a strong proponent of work before play, but when Trevor glances back Ryan’s following along without further complaint.

(Ryan’s also aware Trevor’s a fan of the adage work hard, play hard and knows they both stand to benefit from that later.)

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

Gen

======

People underestimate Jack.

Look at her and dismiss her as less, weaker, based on some overblown, and entirely unwarranted sense of superiority based on outdated beliefs.

And that’s fine, because she’s learned to use it against those kinds of assholes. Lets them underestimate and dismiss her because it makes things easier for her.

It’s harder to pull one over on the Fakes, but it can be done.

They all know Jack’s specialty has more to do with vehicles. Speed demon behind the wheel, ace pilot behind the stick and whatever else.

She’s a decent shot and a passable sniper, but leagues behind the true marksmen in the crew’s ranks, the skilled and gifted snipers they’re lucky to have, and everyone knows it.

#Alfreyco #trevyan #gen #ragehappy #ficlets #spoilers???#vagrant fic

15 notes · View notes

venactricisfics · 6 years ago

Text

Connection

Negan X OC, Smut, Oral, Negan-like language.

Prior Parts: Unexpected What’s Life without a Little Risk Unbelievable

@negans-network @neganmorgan @mypapawinchester@jeffreynegan @ask-kakashihatake

“When you go out there keep your mouth shut and just go along,” Laura says going through the rules of pick ups. “There’s fucked up shit that happens on the road. If it needs to happen just let it. Negan’s calling the shots. His word is the rule. Arat’s his number two today.”

“Do what he tells me no question, got it. Why aren’t you joining the pick up crew today?” I holster my gun and glance up at her hoping I wasn’t fucking everything up by tagging along.

“Simon has us setting up the outpost again. Hoping I get to be the head bitch in charge out there for once,” she laughs.

“Good luck with that,” I pull my hair back in a ponytail, “Anything I should keep an eye out for you?”

“I’m good. I gotta list of shit Carson is looking for. Just remember those assholes are the ones that killed Paula, Michelle, Donnie and Primo. They will try to convince you to help them. You look sweet so they’ll try. Just be careful,” she gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Alright?”

“I will, and you too. But you know Simon better than me,” I give her a grin.

“You know as well as I do how that itch needs to be scratched. You better get a move on.”

“I know, I don’t want to get left behind,” I head down the hallway and out the factory doors.

“Well hello to you,” I try to hide my smile at the sing songy voice of Negan’s as I step out. “Can’t get enough of me huh, sweetheart?”

“That and I’m coming along,” I glance up at him.

“Well, that tickles the shit outta me. I always wanted a little road head when I go to these things,” he smirks.

“You’re making me regret ever sucking your dick,” I respond.

“Guys are all ready to go, boss,” Arat says from behind me. My face turns a bright shade of red. I didn’t want anyone really to know that Negan and I were. Did. Hell, I don’t know what we are but I wasn’t ready for the entire Sanctuary to know.

“Don’t be silly,” he drapes his arm around my shoulders leading me in the direction of the truck, “we both know how much you loved sucking my dick.” He looks out over the group after sliding the truck door open for me, “Let’s head the fuck out.”

His words did little to change the color of my face back to its natural state but I was glad to find a seat in the back, behind the drivers, so I could regain a small piece of my dignity. “How is anyone gonna respect me if you keep telling them how good I suck dick?”

“That is a damn fucking fantastic skill, I couldn’t do it,” he chuckles, “I respect the shit out of you.” I grip the back of Arat’s seat as the truck lunges forward. “Do you respect her, Arat?”

She glances at me in her rearview. Ninety percent of my interactions with her were strictly business. She is fierce. And fiercely loyal to Negan.

“I’ll let you know after today,” she offers me a slight smile, “I don’t have a use for her dick sucking skills.”

“Thanks,” I lean back in my seat as the road becomes steadier, quieter. Giving me a chance to think. Or almost before Negan’s voice chimes in again.

“You should be in the lounge letting me take fucking care of you and not out here doing the fucking hot as hell work. I only do it cause I know the bullshit brigade feels more confident when I am at the fucking helm.”

I narrow my eyes at him curiously, “You asking me to be one of your wives? Cause if you are there’s no fucking way.”

“Well, actually I the fuck I was. Why wouldn’t you want to be in the lap of luxury letting your loving husband,” he gestures to himself, “take care of your every need?”

“Look, I like fucking you,” it didn’t matter at this point, Arat already knew, I wasn’t sure who knew or what but the cork couldn’t be put back in the bottle. “I want to keep liking fucking you. I don’t want it to become my job.”

“Fair enough,” his grin widens, “You wanna come on collections and fuck some people up, I will be fucking ecstatic to have you there. If you wanna stay in your bed watching Lifetime movies, you can. I will not have you working for points anymore.” His final words firm, unyielding.

“I….” I stop my words short realizing I’d won at least the battle, if not the war. He’d given me freedom from being his wife but also leaving the door open for possibility. “Thank you.”

“Any fucking day I get to catch a glimpse of that fine ass of yours,” he glances back at me, a wide grin on his face, “is a good goddamn day.”

“I hate to interrupt your date,” Arat peers in the mirror again, “you get the list of meds Carlson needs?”

“I got it, he doesn’t seem to need a lot,” I pull the list from my back pocket.

“That’s your job for today, make sure Carlson’s list is taken care of,” she replies, “continue with your whatever the hell you two were doing.”

“Thanks, better than standing around and looking pretty,” I give Negan a wink, “How much further?”

“I look hot as fuck carrying Lucille on my shoulder,” he replies, “It’ll be another hour.”

“You look hot all the time, who are we fucking kidding,” I replied leaning my head against the window, “I’m gonna try to sleep until we get there to scare the shit out of some townies. And you can be the big bad wolf and blow all the shit down.” He chuckles, “I’ll give that shit some thought,” he reaches back giving my leg a squeeze, “rest need you on your A game. Unless you want to help me rub one out.”

“You have two hands,” I yawn closing my eyes.

__________________________________________

I’m jarred awake when the truck comes to a stop. “Well good morning, sunshine,” he grins back at me. “We /are/ here.” I sit up rubbing my eyes as the sign comes into to view, ‘Alexandria’.

“Nice place,” I look at the sign as he hops from the truck, “I always wanted to live in a gated community.” I take his hand letting him help me down.

“I better go ring the fucking bell,” he gives me one of his killer grins then saunters over to bang on the gate with Lucille.

“Little pig, little pig let me /in/,” he sings. I shake my head and smile, moving up to stand near Arat, watching as the gate is opened. I couldn’t hear what the smug man on the other side of the gate said, “You /better/ be joking,” he responded, “Negan, Lucille, I know we made one hell of a first impression.”

“Who’s that?” I whisper to Arat when another man walk up behind the first. His sad blue eyes cast down in fear.

“That’s Rick,” she responded. “The prick responsible for this shit show.” I nod watching as Negan postures for the man. Swinging his bat into the skull of a dead asshole that was stumbling toward the open gate.

“Alright everybody, let’s get started, it’s a big day. You see that what I did, that was some /service/,” Negan says to Rick. I furrow my brow as he hands the other man Lucille and walks into the community. I draw in a breath watching the terror and confusion on the townies’ faces. “Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.

“Arat!” Negan barks. And she follows with an order to move. The tension so thick between us and them it could be cut with a knife. Negan watches as I walk by leaning in to speak to Rick loudly, “Damn I have /not/ decided if I like watching her coming or going best.”

“I can still hear you,” I call back to him over my shoulder.

“That is because I was using my outside voice,” he grunted turning his attention back to Rick. I can’t help but smile to myself as I walk out of earshot.

“Is this the infirmary?” I ask one of the citizens. She nodded rolling her eyes at me before walking away. I walk up the steps and feel a hand grab my ass. Davey. Creepy fucking Davey. He always looked at me like he wanted to eat me. My eyes sharp as I turn back to him, “You touch me again and I will break your goddamn hand.”

“Bitch, you think because you’re fuckin’ the boss that makes you shit?”

“Actually,” I narrow my eyes at him, “I know it does. Now keep your fucking hands to yourself if you want to keep them attached to your body.”

“Whatever,” he pushes past me and opens the door to the house.

“Dr. Carlson needs more gloves, antibiotics, pain meds if they got any. Amber’s mom needs anti inflammatories,” I feel wierd looking for shit for Negan’s wives. But I push that to the pit of my stomach. I couldn’t let myself get jealous over them. Hell, he’d just given me the freedom to do whatever I wanted. I’m sure there’s some kind of catch. There’s always a catch.

“Put them back!” I walk out from the supply closet seeing a kid with a patch over his eye pointing a gun at Davey.

“Hey, kid,” I move in front of him, in hindsight, it was probably a stupid thing, “put the gun down.” The kid points the gun over our heads and fires a shot, “You said half our stuff. That’s more than half.”

“I know the deal. And I sure as shit wanted to shoot that asshole at least twice this week, but if you shoot him, shit is gonna get so much worse before it gets better, put the gun down, I don’t want to have to carry this shit out by myself,” I lock my gaze with the kid’s. Raising them only when the door swings open behind him and the guy, Rick, walks through the door, followed by Negan.

“Carl, put it down,” Rick urges.

“They’re taking all our medicine, he said only half,” Carl responds raising his gun up higher.

“Really kid?” Negan swaggers in stopping beside me. Still smiling as he looks from the kid to me then back.

“You should go,” Carl says, “before you find out how dangerous we all are.”

“Pardon me young man. Excuse the fuck out of my goddamn French, but did you just threaten me?” he asks, “Look I get threatening Davey. But I can’t have it. Not him, not me. And sure as shit not her.”

“Carl, just put it…” Rick starts to say.

“Don’t be rude Rick, we are having a conversation here,” he cuts his eyes back to the boy, “Where was I, oh yes your giant man sized balls. No threatening us. I like you. And I don’t want to go hard proving a point. You don’t want that. I said half your shit and /half/ is what /I/ say it is.”

I watch them trying to keep myself from trembling. I knew in my gut Negan wouldn’t hurt the kid. But I couldn’t get a read on the kid or Rick. I wasn’t sure how far off the rails they actually were. This seemingly terrified people broke into the satellite station and killed twenty people in their sleep. They were the enemy. Not us.

“Do you want me to prove how serious I am /again/?” Negan continues with the boy. He sighs and hands the gun over to his father. Negan grabs it from him, “You have an absolute ass-load of guns and this little emotional outburst has made crystal clear. I can’t allow that. They’re all mine now. So tell me, where are my guns?”

I let out a breath when Rick leads them from the house. “Pack this shit up, I’ll be back.” I take the steps after them two at a time. I slow my footsteps when I catch up with them.

“You alright, baby?” Negan asks.

“I just needed some air. Too much of that manly bullshit in there,” I shoot him a wink, “I want to take a look at the guns.”

“You got it. You can help Arat with the inventory,” he grins, “I’ll give you first grab at one for yourself.” I can’t help but smile. The garage door rolls open in front of us. I lock my gaze with that of another terrified woman.

“I was expecting you,” she said her voice as shaky as she was.

“Olivia, show them the guns,” Rick stated.

“The armory’s inside,” she starts back down the hall.

“You take care of all of this?” I ask, looking at the shelves then back to her.

“I keep track of it all. The rations, the guns,” she replied.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Negan said, “Take her and the boys and show ‘em the goods.” I follow Olivia and Arat down the hallway to the next room. It was packed almost floor to ceiling with every conceivable firearm. Olivia hands me the register, “I keep a log there.” Her hand shaky as she shows me the list of what weapons were gone out with people on runs.

“We’re not here to hurt you,” I hop up on the desk, “we’re here to keep your people from hurting us again.” I push the inventory list to Arat. “There is a fuck ton of weapons on that list everything looks organized.” Arat checks off each weapon as the men load them and carry them out.

“How can you be with a man like /that/?” Olivia whimpers motioning her head in the direction of the garage.

“I could ask you the same question,” I hop down and walk outside. I bite my lip grabbing a desert eagle from a stack of guns that was being carried out by Daryl. “This is the one I want.”

Negan laughs, taking the gun from me, “This gun is as big as you are.”

“Are you saying I can’t handle something this,” I give him a smirk, “big?”

“Oh baby, I know how well you can handle big things,” he places the gun back in my hand, standing behind me, “How well have you been taking care of my guns?” his eyes turn to Rick then motions for me to fire. I point at the window and squeeze the trigger, knocking the shutter off its hinges.

“Feels good,” I hand him back the eagle, “Sounds good.”

“Baby, you trying to get me all hard and shit while I’m trying to have a discussion with my boy, Rick?”

“I wasn’t exactly trying,” I smirk pulling my .22 from its holster and replacing it with the more impressive weapon.

“Please don’t…” I turn my eyes hearing Olivia whimper as Arat shoves her up the steps.

“We don’t do that, unless /they/ do something to deserve it,” Negan states.

“Yeah,” she replies, “I went through their inventory and they’re short a Glock 9 and a .22 Bobcat.”

“Is that true?” Negan looks at Olivia who nods her head.

“The inventory is correct,” she replied.

“That’s good but also not good,” he states, “You’re two handguns short. I don’t enjoy killing women. Men, I can kill all the livelong. But Olivia, my dear, at the end of the day this was your responsibility.” My mouth opens to protest but then closes again, remembering who is actually in charge here. I couldn’t make him look weak. Not in front of these people.

“We can work this out,” Rick pleads.

“Yes, we can,” I respond, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.

“And I’m /going/ to right now,” Negan catches Olivia’s arm, “Guns were your responsibility and you screwed up.” He cuts his gaze back to Rick, “Find them /now/.” I watch Rick rush off to their church to meet with his people.

“What are you gonna do?” I ask softly, as we sit down on the patio chairs.

“I’m a man of my word, sweetheart,” he responds, “If the guns aren’t here Olivia is gonna pay the price.” I close my eyes nodding, “Alright.” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Olivia, why don’t we mix up some lemonade? Get your mind off of it. If your friends are smart they’ll give up the guns.”

I tremble stirring the mix into the water looking out the window as the water turns from clear to yellow. Davey again harassing a girl. She couldn’t be more than sixteen. I look down feeling my stomach churn, my eyes watering when I carry the pitcher back outside.

Negan looks at me his normal grin fades slightly when he sees my face. “I’m fine.” I mouth, hoping there is some truth to the words. The people became more than just the enemy when they were scared shitless. The people here, most of them don’t look like they could survive five minutes outside of these walls. But they killed our people, I reminded myself.

“What you got for me Rick?” Negan’s voice interrupts my thoughts. Rick hands him a bag with the missing handguns in it. “Funny how a little ‘Holy shit! Somebody’s gonna die!’ really lights a fire under everybody’s ass.”

“Which one of your people almost killed Olivia?” I asked.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he answered meekly.

“It’s a hell of a place you got here, Rick,” Negan says as we finish loading up. “You sir, are special. We’re coming back soon. And when we do you need to have something interesting for us. No more magic guns.” Negan cuts his eyes to me with a smirk, “Let’s get home. I wanna fuck my girl before and after dinner.” I shake my head with a smile, climbing up into the truck. I watch from the seat as he smacks a walker in the head with a candlestick. He grabs Lucille from Rick and climbs up in the truck after me.

“Jee-sus, that was one hell of a fucking tense ass shit trip,” his lips turn into a devilish smile, “Hurry home, I am hard as hell unless she’s changed her mind about that road head. It’s gonna be awhile before she blows me.”

“I haven’t changed my mind. You can wait an hour,” I move from his seat to mine in the back as the truck moves down the road, I give him a smirk, “I hope I can.”

_____________________________________________

“We’re home,” I’m not sure how long I’ve enjoyed hearing his sing songy voice.

“Good, I’m horny and hungry,” I smirk as I hop down from the truck, avoiding locking eyes with his. “I haven’t decided which itch I want to scratch first.” I open the Sanctuary doors and walk inside. I could feel his gaze follow after me before his footsteps. He catches my shoulder spinning me around pushes me against the wall, “You don’t get to say shit like that and walk away.”

“I don’t?” I rest my hands on his sides, “I was just stating a fact.” My eyes dark as I look up at him, “I was hoping you’d be the one to solve all my problems.”

“You know I will,” he smirks lifting my chin, his lips press fully against mine. I open my mouth, my tongue dancing with his. I could feel the kiss deep in my core.

“Are you gonna fuck me against the wall in front of everyone?” I break the kiss, glancing around as half the factory was looking at us, “Or take me back to your room?”

“Day-um, girl, you almost made me forget where I was,” he scoops me up throwing me over his shoulder, “The rest of you shits back to whatever the fuck you were doing.” I giggle as he carries me down the hall. He pushes open his apartment door and kicks it closed behind him, wasting no time before dropping me on the bed.

I raise up to on my elbows watching him, “I wouldn’t have objected to being fucked against the wall.” I glide my tongue over my lips, “The secret is already out.”

“I give two shits if they know,” he lowers the zipper of his jacket dropping it on the arm of the leather couch, “especially if it makes you mine.”

I toe off my boots and pop the button of my jeans, “I can’t be your wife, Negan. Not like them. I don’t /need/ you to take care of me.” I lift my hips and push my jeans down as he tugs his shirt over his head.

“Fuck, this shit isn’t supposed to be fucking complicated,” he groans moving to the bed.

“It’s less complicated when you are inside me,” I sit up fully on the bed, my hand rests on his bearded cheek and I pull his face to mine. My leg hooks around his hip and I pull him flush against me. His cock hard grinding against my damp panties through his jeans. I smirk against his lips as I tug his belt open, dipping my hand inside his pants, stroking him long and slow.

“You are a fucking tease baby,” he groans against my lips. “Since I laid eyes on you this morning you’ve been teasing me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” I shift so that we’re laying beside each other on the bed, my hand still stroking his member. “I missed you though,” I suck softly on his lower lip, then trail kisses over his jawline and down his neck. Moaning at the taste of his salty flesh. I push him to his back, smiling as he relinquishes control. My lips nibble and their way along his chest and over his stomach. His cock twitches in his pants as I press a soft kiss through them.

“Goddamn,” he utters, “I fucking missed the fuck outta you too.” He kicks his boots off and pushes his pants down, chuckling as his now free cock almost hits me in the face, “he needs your attention, baby.”

“Does he now?” I swirl my tongue around the head. “I guess I’ll have to give it to him.” I groan wrapping my lips around his head. Suckling soft, slow, savoring the taste of him. Negan’s hand reaches down stroking my hair. I take him deeper, my hand moving down massaging his balls. My lips tight and my tongue skims along his shaft, teeth grazing slightly. His grip on my hair tightens. I groan moving my mouth faster up and down his length. I slurp and suck as he begins to thrusts. I let the tip hit the back of my throat with a moan of my own. I could feel his cock thicken, twitching as he gets closer and closer.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he slows his movements, giving me back the control I need, I stroke and suck as he releases in my throat, I suck and lick and swallow each satisfying drop. “Goddamn, shit, fuck, that was good.” I smile over at him as I fall to the bed beside him. “I fucking mean it,” he looks at me, “you make me see fucking stars everytime you suck my dick. It’s fucking magical.”

“Thank you,” I watch him smiling, his pants still around his thighs, “I am glad you enjoyed.”

“I more than fucking enjoyed,” he pulls me to his chest, “Give me a minute, fuck, for my legs to work again.” I can’t help but chuckle. “You can’t fucking tell anyone that you are my fucking kryptonite.”

“Stop,” I press my face into his shoulder to quiet my laughs, “I am hungry. What do you have to eat in here since you can’t walk and take me for a proper meal?” I stand from the bed. I tug the hair tie from my hair and let it cascade down my back. He reaches down pulling his pants back up.

“I got whiskey,” he chuckles nodding at the bottle of jack on the table in the corner, “and salted nuts.”

“Is your plan to starve me into submission?” I turn back to him smiling, “I am already here.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” he sits up pulling me into his lap, his hands gripping my hips, “I can’t have you starve though. I like your ass just as it is.”

“We can go down stairs grab a tray of food from the kitchen,” I lean back against his chest, “But that would require pants.”

“I am not fucking ready for you to get back in your pants. I /just/ got you out of them.” He gives my tit a squeeze over my shirt.

I groan at his touch, my hips rolling slowly in his lap, “How do we solve this problem?” He reaches over grabbing his walkie and calls for Fat Joey, telling him to bring some food up.

Negan wraps his arm around my waist to stop my movements. “Fuck, if you ain’t already tryin’ to make my dick hard again. I sure as shit don’t want Fat Joey walking in while I’m pounding into you.”

“I never figured you to be the shy one,” I tilt my head pressing my lips to his, “So, what do you want to do until dinner comes?” He lifts me up and drops me on the bed then plops beside me.

“Let me just have a fucking look at you,” he lays on his side and I turn to face him, “you sure you don’t wanna be my wife? You’d look hot as hell in a black dress and heels.”

“Hell no,” I push my hair out of my face, “I hate wearing dresses, can’t walk in heels. Don’t want someone to just take care of me.”

“I want to fucking take care of you,” he says, “keep you out of the shit show.”

“I can handle the shit show,” I rest my hand on his face, “I can take care of myself. Wouldn’t you rather I be with you because I want to, not because I feel obligated to? I can be yours if you want me,” I lock my gaze with his, “I just can’t be one of them.”

“Shi-ot,” he responds, “you drive one hell of a fucking bargain, baby.” He presses his lips to my forehead as his hand gropes my tit. “You are /mine/. If you keep giving me head like that I can bend the fucking rules.”

“You are all about the rules though,” I lift my face to his pressing my lips to his, “thank you.” A knock at the door interrupts the kiss. “Dinner.” I smile as he rolls from the bed.

“Fat Joseph,” he chuckles as he opens the door, “/my/ girl wants me to feed her before I fuck her so get your ass in here with her food.” My face flushes a pink. He looks over at me, “Why you acting all bashful now?”

“Yes, sir. Negan,” he brings in the tray of food in and sets it on the table. “Anything else you need?” Joey looks from Negan to me with a dumb grin on his face.

“Don’t look at her,” Negan barked, “Get the fuck out.” He slams the door after the man.

“Looks good,” I step from the bed taking a carrot from the plate, “I used to hate eating cooked carrots.” I chew then swallow, “But now I love them. Guess a lot changes at the end of the world.”

“Come over here and sit down with me,” he pats the seat next to his, “I fucking need a closer look at those titties.”

“I was having trying to have a moment with you,” I take a seat next to him, picking up another piece of carrot.

“Nobody likes carrots,” he chuckles picking one up and taking a bite, “except fucking rabbits.” He gives my thigh a squeeze, “I think I like you better without pants. If you won’t wear a dress just a t-shirt that clings to your titties like that is fine with me.”

“I like you better without pants too. If you want to walk around the Sanctuary in just your underwear so will I,” I grab a fork and jab it into the mystery meat on my plate.

“I am the leader of the Saviors,” he grins, “and you’re my...what are we gonna call you.”

“Lover, Queen,” I smirk straddling his lap, “Goddess. Baby. Light of your life. Any one of those work for me. Or we can not have a label.”

He chuckles, sliding his hands along my thighs, cupping my ass, “I like you even more when you’re sitting in my lap like that.” He grinds up into me. I groan leaning in to kiss him. My hand reaches between us tugging at the button of his pants to pull his cock out again. Without breaking the kiss he lifts my hips up pushes my panties aside and grins against my lips. “I love how fucking wet you get for me.” I line him up with my warm wet entrance and sink down fully on his length. “Jee-sus, baby,” he groans into my lips as I take him all the way in, “I almost forgot how fucking fantastic your pussy feels.”

“Shhh…” I moan as I start to rock my hips, my fingers clinging to his shoulders for balance as I move. His grip on my hips tightens and he thrusts up into me matching my movements. Rock for rock thrust for thrust we move together. I moan when his hand moves between us rubbing my clit causing me to squeeze tighter around him. Move faster. I groan when he lifts me laying me on my back on the couch and drives his cock hard and deep inside my warmth, hitting the spot that makes me come undone. My thighs tighten as they start to tremble around his hips and my walls pulse around him. “Fuck, Negan,” I cry out as I cum, my eyes dark as they fix on his. He pulls out stroking his cock a few times before releasing on my shirt.

“Goddamn, shit,” he chuckles his pants still almost on and covered with my juices. “I like that shit.”

“I know,” I tug my shirt up and over my head after adjusting my panties, “here’s the evidence.” I giggle tossing it in his direction.

“You did not just throw your cum covered shirt at me,” he lifts me up in his arm and swats my ass with his palm.

I squeal, “It’s your cum. Take me to bed now. You have successfully warned me out.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles and carries me over to the bed. He drops me and tugs off his clothes and climbs in beside me. “Rest now.” I tuck myself in his side and close my eyes. Feeling right next to him.

#negan twd negan negan's thirst squad negan fanfiction twd

25 notes · View notes