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thesporkidentity · 11 months ago

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an incomplete list of texts i sent as i slowly lost my mind over the second book of rivers of london, because i fully intend to drag at least one more person into this pit with me. come read with me i promise you're gonna feel so good and normal over this book, come closer

wow okay peter remains the absolute horniest bastard ever. is he a tits or an ass man? yes

oh we are just getting the surface levels hints of nightingales MOUNTAIN of unresolved PTSD and i am very 🥺

you ever feel like a character was written specifically to appeal to you? i'm getting so many tantalizing hints and i KNOW he's going to destroy because he's catnip. he is bait specifically designed to hurt my feelings

also his description makes me think of lee pace or like, 90s/00s paul mcgann and that's just Very Good and i'm being deeply not normal about it

also nightingale reads as SO queer to me, and the potential in fic to explore what that means insofar as how he has navigated the changing landscape of queerness from 1900 to present day is so tantalizing. i don't care that the author says he's not, in this case the author is wrong lol

i must say, i do not care for simone. if we absolutely MUST have hetersexual nonsense in this book i would like beverly back please. she was cool and not a cheating homewrecking jazz groupie lol

still not impressed with simone. i mean, far be it from me to judge a woman's grieving process and all, but she doesn't seem very broken up over her within-the-week dead lover. i mean, i LOVE peter and all and he's hot shit, but immediately falling into bed with him? sus

in conclusion bring 👏 bev 👏 back 👏

also peter, buddy, WHAT ARE YOU DOING

he's a disaster so even though i'm screaming DON'T DO THAT i am unsurprised he is being led around by his dick by a beautiful woman throwing herself at him

but i just. i Don't Trust Her. she doesn't make sense, and i can't tell if this is a case of male author writing wish fulfillment and thus not giving the hot girl adequate motivation of her own

or whether i AM supposed to find it suspicious the way she basically doesn't mourn the man she homewrecked who died very suddenly and then IMMEDIATELY jumps into bed with the magic cop investigating his very probable murder

and i REALIZE the only way to find out is to keep reading, it's just frustrating that women are written poorly so often that, even if he's written good women before, i still have to debate with this is a subtle clue or just Male Author Syndrome

oh my god he finally twigs that this may be weird behavior. peter. bud.

at least he got it before trying to sneak her past folly wards?

side note: god lesley really got the short end of the stick. like, her face fell off, her teeth are a fucking mess, and she probably has brain damage. she got royally shafted

peter "i'm totally straight" grant, talking about how he wants to take a muscly guy by the shoulders and kiss his cheeks and making sure to mention how many phone numbers her got while canvasing the gay bar.

hmm sure, jan

look i KNOW peter is Incredibly Horny All The Time when near any attractive woman, but simone appears from NOWHERE half dressed while he's canvassing for the jazz vampire and he just skives off like that? while looking for a potential killer? that doesn't seem like him he's not that irresponsible. that smells like conspiracy and glamour and i don't trust herrrrrrr

like, peter was already horny wanting to motorboat mama thames (lol don't think i didn't catch that pun) last book. but this book has been a whole new level of horny, and peter may be distractible but not THAT distractible surely

another side note. i love molly and nightingale's weird friendship they've developed living basically with just each other for decades.

oh jesus that's fucked up

oh the severed head is talking

oh. oh no. it got worse

peter, darling, beloved, is now REALLY the time to be talking about how hot your boss is? like i appreciate your dedication to the thirst but time and place, bud

oh never mind i forgive you nightingale is so fucking cool, i get it, i love him

he's so good. the most tragic backstory and perfect stiff upper lip old fashioned english gentleman on the outside, and then just below the surface he's a daredevil and a bit of a bitch and he fucking CARES just SO MUCH and have i mentioned how much the casterbrook wall HURTS ME?? this was revealed in the last book but i just remembered it and it stabbed me again

okay i'm done

i feel like peter has miscalculated making a deal with his cousin to teach her if she aces latin. that's gonna come back to bite lol hope you like teaching too smart for their own good teenagers cuz that's gonna be your life now

"but sir, what do we do if you die??!" "well, that doesn't seem like it will be my problem at that point :)" he's such a bitch sometimes and i LOVE him, mother

ohhhhh. oh no. the pale lady looked like molly and now molly is obviously not okay after she died, that resemblance wasn't just coincidence she definitely knew her 😢

and this is the first person peter has killed, no matter how accidentally. and nightingale is back in the hospital with his chest infection. wow everyone is just having a terrible time right now

okay. i realize that as a memory for him this probably isn't a GOOD one, it's from the war and probably much scarier and MUCH more traumatizing than he makes it sound with his dry narration of it. but god. nightingale knocked out two TANKS. by himself. with his mind. fucking sexy lol

oh damn it why can't they just let me be horny about how powerful he is instead of immediately following it with the fact that he was rear guard and making emotional that it means he was the one trusted to watch over and protect the rest of his men while they retreated as that one final shield between them and enemy fire

hhhhhhhholy shit what did simone DO to mama grant???!!!!

she just bitch slapped her!

OH MY GOD SHE TRIED TO HOMEWRECK HIS PARENTS TOO???

she's PLAUSIBLY IMMORTAL???

fuck i was right she was sketchy as hell!!

she's a fucking jazz vampire and she's been glamouring and sucking him dry! buddy, get to dr walid STAT for a brain scan and make sure she's not turning you into cauliflower!

peter don't you make excuses for her you KNOW it's possible, stop lying about your mum and trying to make her feel better you need to take her in she's a m u r d e r e r

i mean, glamour yes i realize but god, frustrating

good lad peter, i see you fighting it 💪🏾

ohhhhhhhh. oh fuck. she didn't KNOW. she didn't know she was from the 40s and killing people. oh this is bad

nightingale, attempting to show concern: "that was not the most intelligent thing you've done" xD 10/10 nailed it buddy

umm, nightingale? this may not be the black and white moral situation you think it is to go in guns blazing...

it's both funny and little sad how militant both molly and dr walid are when nightingale is injured like. i do LOVE when the person who is SUPPOSEDLY in charge gets lovingly bullied, but it hurts because that's also probably the ONLY way to make him take care of himself is if they FORCE him. and peter's not any better, he's gonna need bullying too

i do love when they team up though. molly and nightingale ganging up against peter like. nightingale gets the special treatment and a hot cocoa from molly, but peter gets the dog's leash and smug little "i'm on bedrest :)" or nightingale foisting the rest of his kidney pie on peter while molly is out of the room then grabbing his empty plate back to pretend he ate it all himself when she returns xD

the cases are interesting and all, but i think it's the core characters that are really the standout of the novel and the reason i keep reading even while i'm asking myself things like, but WHY is she killing via vagina dentata instead of literally any other assassination method? i think it's also why simone stood out so much. she HAD no background that we were told (until now) aside from being sexy. which of course i now know was intentional

"this is your brain, which is not only clean and unsullied by thought..." i love dr walid. it probably says something about me that my favorite characters all have to be at least a little bit of a bitch

oh no i'm having feeeeeelings about both nightingale and peter trying to keep the other out of the vampire raid to shield them from the emotional effects of it, just from opposite ends. nightingale doesn't want peter to have the pain of ANOTHER death on his hands, this one purposeful as opposed to the accidental death of the pale lady, so he's trying to just cut him out of it. and then peter ALSO doesn't want NIGHTINGALE to have the weight of more deaths on his soul and wants to protect him from what he sees as the unfortunate necessity of having to off someone who isn't intentionally hurting someone but still may be too dangerous to live. nightingale trying to save peter from his bleeding heart and peter saving nightingale from his practicality overriding his morality 😭 i just love when characters try to take care of each other in mirrored ways

uh...uh oh peter...no i don't think those are the police OR nightingale's paratrooper buddies

okay the audiobook is fucking excellent though, his infomercial voice while extolling the virtues of doc martins is KILLING me

oh this posh wanker. "oh what is feeding on people but another form of exploitation, and we all know there's nothing wrong with exploiting workers, equality is morally bankrupt anyway" god i hate you already you're insufferable

like of COURSE a dining club oxford nose wipe would think that way. he thinks he's sooooo slick and original with his chimeras they're such exciting new COL crimes but it all just boils down the the exact same rich white bullshit mentality

he would hate it if he realized how dull and banal his villainy is once you strip back the shock value of the trappings. just another entitled prick who views people as things, fuck this dude

i'd be tempted to say the faceless man's signare smelling like pork was a dig at david cameron and piggate if i didn't know it was written a few years too early for that lol

peter: oh no nightingale is going to give me SUCH a bollocking nightingale, obviously so relieved he's alive: very much does NOT give him a bollocking and instead tells him how impressive it is that he didn't just immediately die against the faceless man

"for a terrifying moment i thought he was going to huge me, but fortunately we both remembered we were english just in time. still, it was a close call" 🤣🤣🤣

oh ouch peter. just use all his dead friends against him. effective but also, low blow

god he wants so badly for peter to be right, too, that they and HE doesn't have to kill anyone anymore, that how that it's not Just Him ALl Alone they might have the support structure for other options. oh no i want this to work so badly so that hope is validated, but i just know something is gonna go wrong

welp

i didn't like her but i didn't want her fuckin DEAD you know?

and now the ones left standing have to deal with the trauma and the fallout

oh lesley :( they're both trying so hard to be normal about it and they're such good friends 🥺

LESLEY DO MAGIC?

LESLEY JOIN TEAM FOLLY???!!

also don't think you've been sneaky there and that i haven't noticed SOME sort of thematic symmetry of lesley struggling with having lost her face involuntarily from magic, and the faceless man having voluntarily masked himself. involuntary vs voluntary loss of identity. i'm sure there will be more parallels in the next book but like. i see you. i see you setting up face themes with these two

hopefully with lesley regaining her face somehow and thus reclaiming identity while the faceless man is unmasked thus losing the identity he built for himself and revealing the true one he hid. maybe hopefully? i want good things for lesley and bad things for the faceless one.

#rivers of london #under a readmore because it's so long and i don't want to owe even MORE of an apology to everyone in the tag than i already do

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scaryscarecrows · 1 year ago

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Long is the Road Out of Hell

Bruce only spots the man because of a flickering sign behind him, but the how doesn’t matter here. What matters is that after four days of chasing ghost stories and rumors, he’s found something that could lead him to Jason. That’s the man that shot Deathstroke. He knows something, and Bruce wants to find out what.

Catching him is, of course, another matter. They stare at each other across rooftops for a few seconds before the man (short, gas mask, red goggles, armed) turns, takes a running start, and leaps off the roof.

Bruce gives chase.

He moves like the League, like Bruce, and while the Militia has had people that move similarly, none of them were quite like this. Unfortunately, Bruce has chased down more than his fair share of, in the words of the GCPD, ‘crazy-ass ninjas’, and he’s not letting this one go.

The chase takes them to a higher rooftop in Ryker Heights and finally Bruce gains enough of an advantage (a place to use the grapnel boost), launches himself skyward and dives back, crashing into the smaller man and driving him through a crumbling skylight. They hit the ground in a shower of glass, but it’s not over yet: the man’s boots have knives at the toes and he’s kicking up and out, squirming free and drawing his firearm.

Then things get worse.

From behind them there’s the WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRR of a minigun warming up and Bruce has seconds to drop a smoke pellet and dive aside before bullets spit out from the darkness and a deep voice laughs and mocks, “Run, Bat, run!”

The man he was chasing is breathing heavily. The minigunner stalks forward. He’s a big man. There’s been a few like him, too, but he’s bigger still. Unlike the other one, he’s not masked, which means the facial recognition in the cowl can find him.

Trent Ages. Mercenary. Interrogations expert. Extremely dangerous.

You don’t say, Bruce thinks, grappling into the rafters. Lovely. One of them was manageable. Two is…still manageable, but it makes this harder. Minigunner’s the more dangerous one, he decides; that gun will cut him to pieces, and the disruptor will only work a little. There’s a fuse box over there, though. If Bruce can get him over there, he can use that against him–

There’s the crackling of speakers and an unfamiliar voice rings through the office.

“You get one chance to get the hell out.” Man’s voice. Bored. “You gonna take it?”

There. A small, red dot: camera.

He destroys it with a Batarang and the man sighs.

“He’s in the rafters. Fucker broke one of my cameras.”

The minigunner aims upwards.

“I’ll avenge it.”

WHIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Ah. New plan, then: get away from the cameras.

He swings to a new vantage point, then another, and then one just above the smaller man he’d chased here. Readies the REC gun. Sends the minigunner careening across the room while he drops down, grabs his friend, and grapples back to the roof.

“Where is the Arkham Knight?”

Whatever response he was expecting, laughter wasn’t it. He shakes him before slamming him against a low wall and forcing him back so his head’s hanging over it.

“I’m asking nicely.”

The man only laughs harder and goes slack. He’s not nervous, according to the cowl. He genuinely does not care.

“You shot Deathstroke.” That, at least, shuts him up. “Is the Knight dead?”

There’s a long silence before the man nods. Bruce’s heart falls out of his chest as his vision narrows.

No no no no not again not again–

THWACK.

Bruce is out before he hits the ground.

* * *

“--laughing?”

“--ne’s toxin neutralized it, but I want to be sure. I’m not risking a second Joker running around Gotham.”

“Sure we don’t need to check the brain? Like rabies?”

“We’ll see.” There’s the sound of someone tapping on glass. “I know you’re awake in there.”

That’s Jason’s voice, and Bruce feels cold. Crane’s toxin wasn’t enough. It was enough to hold this at bay, then, nothing more.

“You’re sure he’s awake, boss?” A new voice. Tired, smoker’s rasp. Not-Jason barks a laugh.

“Oh, yes.” More tapping. “The least you could do is look at me.”

The cowl is still on. He’s on the floor, but the cowl is still on. Where is he?

He can hear water outside, smell that odd clean scent of overly-filtered air, and taste the staleness of having been drugged. None of these things are useful to know.

“Did you two fail vocabulary tests as kids?” a new voice demands. “Stay down, I said. Those injuries are pretty nasty, I said. What about either of those things did you not understand?”

“I–”

“Have roughly the intelligence of a microwave, I know, now sit. Down.”

There’s two sets of heavy, shuffling steps followed by squeak-squeak and flop-thud. Bruce risks cracking his eyes open, just a tad, to try and see the goings-on.

Jason–Not-Jason?--is in a wheelchair. He knee’s in a brace and he’s wearing soft, loose clothing that doesn’t hide the shape of bandages around his torso. His companion, a blond man Bruce has seen a few times throughout Halloween, is in a desk chair, arm in a sling. Both of them are looking away from a third man that Bruce doesn’t recognize, a tall, dark-haired one looming over them.

“You fuck up that knee or rip any of those stitches and I’ll gut you,” he’s snarling. “And you! You’ve gotten maybe half the sleep you should and if I catch you trying to ‘start PT early’, I’ll cut the damn thing off, because clearly you’ve lost that privilege. Clear?”

“Aww, c’mon–”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse–”

“Clear?”

They fall silent and finally mutter, “Clear.”

“Thank you,” the doctor says serenely. “Tests are still going, is why I came looking for you. Computer says another six hours, easy.”

“Mm.” Not-Jason drops his head back to look at the ceiling. “No early signs of anything?”

“Not yet. So go back to bed, someone will tell you if things get interesting.”

Not-Jason clearly pretends he didn’t hear that in favor of looking back at Bruce.

“How long were you hiding it?”

Bruce is silent. It’s the only way to come out of the hallucinations eventually, is to not play into them. But this isn’t the usual. In the past, when it’s been Jason, he’s been either hurt and begging for help, or furious. This one is…clinical.

No, no, he’s angry: when Bruce doesn’t answer, he shoves himself out of the wheelchair, dodges what Bruce guesses is the doctor, and stalks over to lean against the glass.

“I know you’re awake, asshole. Answer me: how long were you hiding it?”

Joker’s not here yet. All this is oddly linear, actually. Very immersive. It would be fascinating if it weren’t so dangerous. He takes a quick peek at his hands. Still Batman’s gauntlets, not Joker’s gloves. Good.

He looks back up at Not-Jason and just…looks. Not-Jason looks tired, so very tired, and what would have been injuries from Deathstroke are prominent, but apart from that, he looks…better than he did in Joker’s tape. His breathing’s steadier and he doesn’t have his eyes glazed over from pain and drugs and fear.

He’s still angry, though: when Bruce doesn’t answer, he slams his hand against the glass with a resounding wham!

“Want me to call Trent?” the blond asks. Not-Jason turns away with a sneer and doesn’t shake the doctor off when the man steps over to grab his arm.

“No. I don’t want anyone going in there until those tests come back.”

“That include you?”

Not-Jason sinks back into the wheelchair.

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go, assholes, visiting hours are over–stay down, you’re getting a ride.”

“I want a ride,” the blond gripes.

“Too bad. You don’t both fit in this thing.”

Bruce watches them leave and hopes the hallucination will be over now.

* * *

He’s pulled out of his meditation by the feeling of eyes.

His first thought is that it’s the camera that he can just hear in the corner of his cell, whining a little as it moves back and forth, but when he cracks an eye open, just to a slit, he sees the man he was chasing standing motionless on the other side of the glass.

His white mask is off now, the stark red goggles as well, and the cowl hiccups, tries to identify him, and brings up static. They’re using a scrambler, then. Wise.

The man just stares at him, unblinking, and all Bruce can really think, in this moment, is that you’re not as intimidating as you think you are. This is followed immediately after by, two can play this game.

To the casual observer, the stiff posture hides everything. To Bruce, it conveys military background, like the others, but it also conveys injuries that would be consistent with a fall or an altercation; he’s standing a little too straight, likely to keep his ribs in alignment. His breathing is shallow, which bolsters that theory. One shoulder is held a hair higher than the other–subconscious tenseness, probably an older injury, but one he can exploit. Likely exacerbated by the recoil of a gun; that was, Bruce will allow, a good shot earlier. Not one made by a lucky amateur.

The burn scars–not many, but they’re unmistakable–around his mouth are far more interesting. They’re old, received decent enough treatment, and look largely accidental, like someone shoved something hot in his mouth and dinged the skin on the way in. Torture of some kind, or emergency cauterization. Bruce is inclined to think torture; this man moves like the League, and as he can attest, the League is harsh.

Whatever the man is doing here, whatever he’s looking for, he must find it; his posture relaxes all of a sudden and he gives Bruce a look that can only be summed up as, I’m not impressed.

Bruce exhales sharply through his nose, closes his eyes, and thinks, that makes two of us.

When he opens his eyes again, the man is gone. He looks at the camera, figures they’re going to be watching no matter what he does, and gets to his feet.

The cell is small, the same size as the quarantine cells in the movie studios. Unlike those, it’s empty: no cot, no sensors that he can see, no nothing except a Gothco* bottle of water and the security camera. The bottle is sealed, but that doesn’t mean it’s not drugged, and he doesn’t touch it.

Depending on how lucid he was (is?), they seem to be concerned about the Joker blood. On this, their goals align; he meant what he said to Tim. How they know is another matter entirely, but there’s been…periods…that he can’t remember. Not many (not that he knows about), but there’s snatches of time that he cannot account for. Who knows what he did during those blackouts.

Then again, he could have imagined that and they’re actually just carrying out the Knight’s final orders, whatever those might have been. Or they blame him for what happened.

He shuts down that train of thought. Thinking about Jason is only going to hurt and he can’t afford the distraction right now. He needs to get out of here. Gotham is not safe while these people are still rattling around in her, and they need to be dealt with before he can take care of himself.

They’ve disarmed him, but Bruce has always enjoyed his toys, not relied on them. He can still fight his way out of here, given half a chance. The one he’ll really have to be wary of is the minigunner he saw earlier tonight, but–despite what Alfred says–he always uses some measure of caution when dealing with men like that. He hasn’t been doing this for ten years without picking up a trick or two, after all.

What he needs, he decides, is to convince these dopes to open the door. Preferably the blond he (probably) saw earlier–that was a clearly recent injury, one he can rely on to incapacitate him–, but any of them will probably suit.

He punches the camera. It makes a satisfying bzzt and the red light fades and dies.

There. That will get somebody’s attention.

He settles back down to wait. Unfortunately, while he gets a response in about thirty seconds, it’s not one he wants.

“What do you have against technology, man?” the disembodied voice whines. So there’s a speaker in here as well. Interesting. “Those things aren’t free, you know.”

The voice is slightly echo-y in the small space. Bruce needs to keep him talking to locate the source.

“Who’s in charge now?” he grinds out, hoping it’s a two-way speaker. It is: the voice scoffs.

“Fuck off, Bat.”

“I’ll find out with or without you.”

The voice doesn’t answer this time. Hm. Time for something else.

He launches himself at the glass. It holds–of course it holds–but he hits it with a resounding BANG! that makes it shudder.

“Hey!” The voice snaps. “Knock that shit off!”

Aha. It’s structural, in the back wall. Could be a weak spot.

He starts tapping. The wall sounds solid throughout, but maybe…is that…

“What d’you think you’re doing.”

Bruce turns. It’s not the blond, unfortunately; it’s an older man, developed worker’s hands, broad shoulders, bit of an odd posture for (presumably) military. Grease splatters on his pants say mechanic. He’s armed, like the others, with a large rifle that looks a lot like J–like the Knight’s, but he seems fairly confident that Bruce can’t get out.

“Leaving,” Bruce says shortly. The mechanic laughs, but it’s not a friendly one.

“Bullshit.” He rests his hand on his hip (too casual, stabilizing gesture, he’s had an injury to that leg and it’s weaker than the other) and fixes Bruce with a glare that reminds him, randomly, of Alfred. “You’re not fucking leaving until those tests are done.”

“What tests.”

“Clown tests.” So that probably wasn’t a hallucination. Good. “May as well siddown and wait.”

He’s more hostile than either the blond or the League-trained. Bruce can use this.

He turns his back (that glass will be bulletproof, it’s fine) and resumes tapping on the wall. There’s a frustrated sigh and the man says, “If you cause too much damage, I have orders to push this button and blow you up to keep you contained. And believe me, I won’t hesitate.”

“Who gave you those orders.” Bruce does not turn around. “Who’s in charge now?”

There’s a beat of stunned silence before the man says, voice incredulous, “Jesus, what kind of shitty father are you?”

What?

He turns at that, fixes the man with his best Threatening Glare, and growls, “Who the hell do you think you are.”

If he was hoping for intimidation, he doesn’t get it. The man just scoffs, looks him up and down, and says, “More responsible than you. I wouldn’t send any kid out the way you do, and you’re trying for some fucked-up hat trick.”

“You don’t know the first thing–”

“I know you keep your kid safe!” the man roars, hand clenching around a–yes, that appears to be a detonator. “I know you fucking protect them, not armor ‘em up and send ‘em out against these freaks! I know you don’t leave them with sadistic clowns! Jesus Christ, you wanna go out like this, that’s your business, but you don’t drag your children into that!”

“I never dragged any of them–”

“Then how the hell’d your middle one get that brand on his face?” He slams his free hand against the glass. “The fuck is the matter with you?”

“S’goin’ on?”

Oh, no.

Bruce takes a slow, deep breath and tries to concentrate on his rule of fives. He’s up to three things he can touch when Not-Jason makes his way over, eyes confused.

“He was trying to find a way through the back wall, sir,” the other man says shortly. “You should be sleeping. Mark’ll have your head if he sees you up again.”

“M’all right,” comes the quick protest. “Just don’t tell him.”

And if that doesn’t sound like Jay. Bruce remembers him giving his best winning smile and wheedling, Alfred never has to know.

“What are you doing up.”

“Checking the test progress.”

“And?”

“Nothing yet. Another twenty minutes and we’ll know for sure.” Not-Jason looks at Bruce. “It’s been a long night. Go get some rest.”

“Sir–”

“It’s fine.”

The man shoots Bruce a venomous glare and hands over the detonator.

“Don’t be up too long, you know he’ll come looking.”

He leaves and Not-Jason scrubs around the button, picking at something with his nails.

“Never heard him that angry before,” he says wryly.”You really bring out the best in people, huh?”

“You’re not here.” It's a desperate habit. He can’t let Joker get a foothold, he’ll never get rid of him if he does. “You’re dead.”

“God, this again?” Not-Jason looks beseechingly at the ceiling. “Look, I know it’d be easier for you, but–”

“No.” Hallucination or not, that’s not true and never will be. “No, Jay, I’d give anything for you to–”

“Bullshit–”

“Truth.” He abandons his fives and steps up to the glass. “I grieved you every single minute. Every second. You–”

Not-Jason isn’t listening. He’s looking at his phone. A few seconds pass before he starts laughing, resentful but still entertained.

“Dylan told you the Knight was dead,” he says. “You of all people should understand the difference.” What. “I’m not coming in there to prove it to you, but sorry to disappoint, I’m still here. The proverbial cockroach, if you will.”

He can’t do this again. It’s been a roller coaster of a night (well, night and a bit) and he can’t do this anymore. But Not-Jason does look real enough…as did Joker, and Barbara.

Bruce wonders if maybe giving into the delusion isn’t so bad. He’s in a cell, after all.

“You–”

“You know, this is the second time you’ve written me off without a corpse. One might almost think you wanted to get rid of me.” Jason gives Bruce a sardonic smile. “Subconscious buyer’s remorse, maybe?”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I? When did the new kid show up, again? Six months, right? When you deemed him good enough to go out? When it was me, you made me wait five months before stopping one lousy mugging, so…” He shrugs. “Either you rushed him or picked him up immediately. Either way, you’re an asshole.”

“He knew who we were.”

“Option two, okay. That doesn’t hurt my feelings at all.” He leans against the glass. “Least you could do is admit it.”

“Admit what?” Bruce demands. “That I was desperate for any help I could get to find you? That I stayed out until well after sunrise chasing leads, then came home to comb through the footage for anything I missed?”

“For all the good it did.”

“And I’m sorry. If I could take your place, I would.”

Jason just looks at him, expression unreadable.

“Would you,” he says softly. “I doubt that very much.”

“Jason–”

“When those tests come back, we’re gonna do one of two things. Either I let you go and you stay the hell away from me. You’ve done enough.” Well. “Or I push this button.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Bruce says stiffly. “Gotham can’t take another Joker.”

“Gotham shouldn’t have had to take the first one,” Jason spits. “You let that go for too long. You let this go for too long.”

“When did you know.”

“Airship. You were fucking laughing, you know that? That godawful high-pitched cackle.”

Bruce did not know that.

“I–”

“Sounded just like him.” He taps his fingers against the back of the detonator. Nervous. Jason’s never been one to be too still. He can be, he just…often isn’t, not when he’s upset. “Real blast from the past, let me tell you.”

There’s nothing Bruce can say to that. ‘At least I didn’t kill them’ isn’t really the best reply here. Neither is ‘they shouldn’t have been there’. Even though both are technically true.

“You owe me an answer,” Jason continues, eyes boring into Bruce’s. “How long were you hiding it.”

“I was managing it for approximately ten months.”

“Ten–” Jason’s fingers clench around the detonator. “Of course you did.”

Before this can go any further, the blond from before comes back, eyes flitting to Bruce with undisguised dislike.

“Tests are back,” he says. “According to the doc, anyway.”

“And?”

“He doesn’t tell me shit.”

Jason takes a slow, deep breath and turns away.

“Let’s go see, then.”

THE END

*I will forever cling to ‘no big companies will set foot in Gotham, so they have their own variants’: Goth-mart, Goth-greens, Gothco…they’re on brand, y’all.

#arkhamverse #scaryverse #jason todd #the squad #bruce wayne

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spinningbuster98 · 1 year ago

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youtube

Oh yeah. We're going old school with this

So Metroid 1 is a game that one can't help have some respect for: naturally without it there would be no series, hell there would be no genre! Super Metroid? Sotn? Hollow Knight? A good chunk of Indie games? Never would it have existed without this game! I can't deny its influence

....but Jesus Christ is it ROUGH

And look I've played plenty of NES games of this era, many of them being Metroid's contemporaries: Super Mario Bros, Zelda 1, Castlevania 1, Mega Man 1... and while all of them have their rough patches as was the norm for pretty much all videogames at the time....Metroid 1 stands out in a pretty bad way...

It's not stuff like the slow down whenever there are too many sprites on screen, that couldn't be helped I'm sure and was pretty common.

Nor is it the lack of a map in and of itself or the game's cryptic nature. In fact I'd say that this game is at least not as cryptic as the likes of Castlevania 2 since most of the time you can find your way forward by simply bombing a floor or wall whenever you run into a dead end, so once you know that you should be (kinda) good

My issue is how much it's obvious that this game was rushed to absolute fuck.

I can't find the interview that stated this but I heard that most of this game's development was handled during its very last months, which you can tell just by looking because about 85% of this game is made up of the same 5-6 room layouts copy and pasted with only slight differences if any at all, which is the REAL culprit for why you'll get lost here

Then there's the enemy placement

How can I put this gently?

Uhmmmm...

It's absolute dog shit

Enemies are spammed without rhyme or reason, they attack you non stop, whenever you find those pipes straight out of Super Mario bros they'll be spewing enemies literally without stopping: here's a hint when you kill an enemy and they drop an item until you pick up that item the enemy won't respawn. Trust me this can be useful

Sometimes enemies won't spawn correctly when you enter a room, sometimes they'll attack you as soon as you enter while you're still going through the door transition when you can't move Samus, hell sometimes they'll manage to enter the door with you and hit you continuously WHILE the transition plays out!

If you die in this game you'll get respawned at the start of the area you died in...with only 30 points of health, meaning that you'll have to spend a lot of time grinding enemies for health, which was an issue that was also present in Zelda 1 but at least there the health bar was much smaller overall

I know it's an old game but...Zelda 1 didn't have this much copy and pasted level design, in fact that game's overworld was pretty diverse making it possible to orient yourself even without a map after a while. the dungeons where certainly much guiltier of copying room layouts but you could find a map and a compass in those places at the very least

With all due respect I think people sometimes give Metroid 1 a little bit too much leeway. Yeah some of its issues couldn't be helped as they were standard for the time....but others not so much I believe

Speaking of, I may have said that you can absolutely find your way forward even without a guide by just keeping in mind to bomb every potential dead end...but you ain't never finding the Varia Suit and Screw Attack without a guide. You have to destroy some completely inconspiquous blocks on perfectly normal looking ceilings in perfectly normal looking rooms.

Granted you don't NEED those two power ups to finish the game....but unless you're already a grade A expert at this game you're gonna need them if you plan on beating the more bullshit parts, especially the Varia Suit for the extra defense

#metroid #metroid 1 #my gameplay #Youtube

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skygodtraumabond · 1 year ago

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<The video opens with the camera following Marny through the halls of the castle ruins. She seems to be pressing forward blindly. Her shoulders are tense, her head is set forward, and she doesn't even seem to notice Chatot pulling on the curls of her hair. A voice can be heard calling out from a distance.

Ray: Marny, Techie, wait!

Then, from behind her, a hurried set of footsteps can be heard accompanied by heavy breathing. The camera is suddenly grabbed out of the air, purple flesh partially obscuring the lens as the video ends.>

<... Buuutt the audio file continues >:> >

<Rustling is heard as I am haphazardly shoved back into Ray's pocket. There are more polite ways to ask me to stop filming but :> whatever! As the rustling clears up, voices can be heard again.

Ray: ... The legend is real. I mean, I think he is... Exaggerating details still. The life-draining thing is just a thing that ghost types tend to do. I think. That is what happened to me, I think. Hope. Still, why is a Honedge just-

Marny: Yeah, yeah, the legend is true, the mythical pokemon is real. That's gotta be a shocker for you, champ. Look, I need you to focus and just help me raid this place before Sir Arsehole over there gives up. I know I'm gonna be kissing my tip goodbye for this. Like I control the sword...

A silence hangs between them for a moment. Nothing can be heard apart from the frustrated, unintelligible words of the tourist from down the hall, the banging of scales and fists on rock, an equally unintelligible Orrish accent, and the footsteps of the tomb raiders.

Ray: ... Marny? Are you... Upset? That the Honedge didn't choose you?

Marny can be heard sputtering for a moment, a skidding noise indicating that she turned on her heel just to face Ray.

Marny: Upset!? Why would I be—I mean. Yes! I am heartbroken! I am so... So heartbroken that I could not pull the sword out. Even if I tried my very hardest! Even in a million! Trillion years! It hurts me so, so much—especially physically! Because my life force was drained! Eaten! It was... Ow! Oh, it made me so upset! In fact, I'm so upset about it that I would rather talk about anything else right now! Like hidden royal treasure! That's a good topic—

Ray: You... Didn't actually feel any pain did you?

Marny: Stop talking about the sword, Ray! I don't want to talk about the sword! I have never seen a sword in my life, actually! I don't think swords are real! What's a sword? Je ne connais pas cette "épée" dont tu parles—!

As Marny is digging herself further and further into the hole, the castle suddenly audibly shakes, and the cries of several Pumpkaboos are heard followed by the infuriated yelling of the tourist. It's faint, but it sounds like he's directing his pokemon to destroy the rocks. Something—presumably Marny—can be heard wrapping around Ray.

Marny: Not again, not again—

Ray: Skies above—this fucker!

Ray can be heard snarling as several pokemon are released from their balls. From the sounds heard, it sounds like every member of the team barring Scout was released. They then begin barking out orders in Hoennian.

Ray: Scorchovia, Glitch, find the man destroying the ruins and start battling! Sparky, go with Scorchovia and Glitch and try to paralyze the man! Ponch, Snicker, round up as many wild pokemon as you can and get them out of here! I'll catch up, don't worry. Go, go!

The pokemon can be heard responding affirmatively to the orders and scattering. Then, Marny can be heard yelping, nearly drowning out Ray's growl as the audio cuts out.>

#raytalk #pokeblogging #pokeblr #pkmn irl #the pearl of kalos #scam tours

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mlobsters · 1 year ago

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supernatural s12e5 the one you've been waiting for (w. meredith glynn)

thule society nazis in the recap, oh boy. my fave. remember nothing of this episode (8x13 apparently). though i do remember neck stabbing a nazi to non je ne regrette rien (but i think that was a different nazi stabbing episode??? 11x14). ps totally thought rien was laugh because ríen in spanish is "they laugh". sometimes similar words between french and spanish are the same! sometimes not :P i don't regret anything not quite the vibe of i don't regret laughing lol

DEAN I'm gonna stop you right there, okay? Look, Mom needed her space, and I told you I'm cool with it. SAM But are you really?

so here for sam continuing to poke dean about this. dean should retaliate by making sam deal with something

SAM Uh, rich people like antiquing. I don't know. DEAN I say we check it out. SAM Uh… (Sighs) All right. In the meantime, you sure you don't wanna talk about – DEAN No. SAM Dean, it's called sublimation. DEAN Yeah. Yeah, it's kinda my thing.

i had to look it up because i was thinking of the science thing but psychologytoday.com says:

Why is sublimation a mature defense? Sublimation is considered a successful defense mechanism because it often leads to positive outcomes—and outcomes that are often better than the alternative. For example, let’s say a man going through a divorce emotes by destroying his ex-wife’s property or lashing out at his son. In the case of sublimation, on the other hand, the man may channel his energy into an important project at work. Even though sublimation is a more productive defense than others, it’s still healthy to fully confront and process the underlying emotions involved.

look at that, it's a mature defense mechanism! something something processing emotions too. details details

miracles of miracles they turned on the lights instead of continuing to poke around in the dark with flashlights (xfiles was very silly about that too, kind of a trope of the genre i suppose. drama!)

hi localhost loopback webmail. that is a very nice little fake email screen though. and peekaboo sam in the mirror

finally someone reacting appropriately to overhearing one of their conversations 😂

keep trying to figure out if nazi boy here just has a bad cut/style/color or it's a wig. this is why i don't remember these episodes. could not care less

send in sam to talk to the girl, they can bond over being vessels for pure evil! lol she called bullshit on sam's lucifer vessel story, very reasonable

neverending fight scene.

ok same kid and now it looks like it is his hair. maybe that was a reshoot or something?

i guess british mol villains not enough cartoon evil, bring in nazi thule whatever douchebag his dad is

haha WAIT! i know this diner LOL. i used it for my archivist painting! and in the process of doing that i was checking the outside views too. i think this is the same clip in fact, just darkened to look like night. did they forget to get an exterior shot of something? now i wonder how often they do this. only reason i recognized it was because i'd spent hours staring at pictures for that painting

s1e20 dead man's blood

s1e20 / s12e5

that is so funny. looks like they took out the searchlight from the car too. babies

sam's reaction to nazi defector boy sliding in is cracking me up. kid's hair back to looking strange. maybe it's the color? it just doesn't look right on his head

mentioning again how great his hair is looking this season! what a turnaround. clearly should tag for me rambling about his hair, like the sideburns. looking at the search for hair on my posts, i talk about everyone's hair. a lot lol (best hair, claire by a mile. ugh. so gorgeous). sigh, back to nazis

i had some weird light golden brown hair for a minute when i was using an old box of dye and i was sick of fighting the white hair. kind of looks like that. also, what were they eating? chocolate pie? cheesecake? cake? stallllling

EXCUSE ME WHAT. wheezing

the matrix (1999) / the magicians s1e4 the world within the walls

reminds me of a cross between the matrix bug and the little gold scorpion thingamajig in the magicians. but way goofier

oki doke

kinda feels like this whole episode was an excuse to get sam to say this. and for the mood pick-me-up of getting to kill hitler for dean

DEAN You know, I was thinkin'… we passed a bakery on the way into town. Sign said, “Best pie for a thousand miles”. SAM So now you want pie? DEAN I killed Hitler. I think I deserve some pie. Did I mention I killed Hitler? SAM I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I? DEAN Probably not.

very cute

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 12x05 #spn 1x20 #meredith glynn #sam's hair

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maguro13-2 · 10 months ago

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Shattered Hero ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Episode Maka Pt.3 ~

[Carnival - Fumie Kumatani]

Sonic : Ah, man. 2006, this is possibly going to be the worst year ever, and my co-creator that made Phantasy Star and Nights left out to prevent him being blamed by the public. Producer that created the hardest Shinobi game on Playstation 2. I knew that he was gonna do that to me after dealing with that catgirl at the first ds game, which was released on the same days as the Black Arms Invasion.

Tails : Relax, sonic. It's not that bad. Although the Dreamcast era did ended after the Black Arms Invasion therefore the new Sonic game would be the very start of the modern era. Plus, Sega required that the boost system from Heroes has decided to give you to boost freely!

Sonic : Yeah, that's really cool, Tails! I can boost freely! Watch this! *BOOST!*

Tails : Woah!

Knuckles : Hey! My hot dog!

Sonic : *BOOST* Oh, sorry about that. The vendor decided to give you another one.

Knuckles : And I asked for extra mustard, when does boosting became a thing since Heroes and now that the Black Arms Invasion has ended, who's gonna look after the Space Colony ARK after the invasion? Did something happened to Amy's Place that was located in Central City? You know, where the Amy's Room stage is at.

Sonic Oh, that? It got destroyed during the Invasion. Two years, man. Two freakin' years.

Sonic : Now that we finally dealt with eggman and Eggman Ne... (attempts to say "Nega", but stutters to change the subject and determines to say something instead) Eggman Negative in Rush. Yeah! Eggman Negative! That's what I really said about him after dealing with a cat! I'm sure the 06 will be great without--Dodge! (the trio avoids) Hey, who was that just by now!?

[Sonic Speed Riders - Tomonori Sawada, Runblebee]

Jet : So, you must be Sonic the Hedgehog! So surprise that you wouldn't see your face after the Black Arms a year ago. I heard that alien leader has got some daddy issue with Shadow.

Tails : Woah, who is that guy?

Sonic : That's Jet the Hawk. The leader of a group of thieves called the Babylon Rogues. They steal things that are treasures and are bandits capable of theirselves as Pirates. Luckily, this all changed for theirselves and became Extreme Gear specialist! You know Sonic Riders just came out to be part of the 15th anniversary. He maybe have speed, but I have the power to boost! *BOOST!*

Jet : Oh yeah!? Two can play at this game! Storm, Wave! Let's show him who's the fastest thing alive!

Storm : Yes sir!

Wave : With pleasure!

Jet : Onward!

(WHOOSH!)

Tails : Knuckles! We gotta go after them!

(cuts to Sonic running through the streets while racing against Jet)

Jet : So did you heard the news? The Grim Reaper of Mobius has released a girl who had been framed for a crime that she didn't commit.

Sonic : Who's the girl that was mysteriously released?

Jet : Hero of Soul World, Maka Albarn. 14 year old human girl born on the planet Jupiter.

Sonic : Born on Jupiter. What else?

Jet : And some say that she is responsible for wiping out 80 percent of the country's population after a tremendous power she unleashed has created an explosive shockwave of amount of that power called Shattered Resonance, luckily, the masked boy named Makoto Asagiri of the Phantoms of Society have saved her life by calming her down to lower Shattered Resonance.

Sonic : And after that, a second explosive shockwave was occured in it's capital, Tokyo, where a girl named Kimial Diel was teased by people that were killed by her and including her best friend, and then another phantom saves the day. Too bad Death City was so out of character. Or should I say, a city that was the home village of the hero of the ohkuboverse himself, Shinra Kusakabe, aka Mr. Devil. Responsible for creation his son and Soul World, and as well for spreading the "Influence" of his.

Jet : Yeah, right. And it's not like that they dealt with the forces of evil that is exactly a diversion, they weren't created to protect peace, they were created to get the attention of heartless to act like they're the forces of evil. But the true forces of evil is the Shadow Realm.

Sonic : What!? Shadow Realm? That lame concept made up by 4Kids? Tou know, I changed my voice from Ryan Drummond to Jason Griffith voice after Heroes in 2004 and in 2005 during the Black Arms invasion.

Jet : Correction. Shadow Realm maybe a concept, but it's also a world where the Ohkuboverse has became a facade to it's kind, all thanks to this Demon Vibe fella. So the author did falsely led his characters to be the instrument of his son and was an arrogant dickhead. So we don't know what's gonna happen to the Real World is that might be covered in Darkness!

Sonic : You bet!

Jet : Think fast! You should really catch up!

Sonic : You're on!

Tails : Sonic Wait up!

Knuckles : Hey don't leave us hanging!

(on top of the building is Silver watching Sonic and Jet race through his binoculars)

Silver : So we finally know who you are. I finally found him, the Iblis Trigger.

"Meanwhile at the Halberd..."

Medusa Gorgon : I can't go back now. I have to get away from the influence of Shinra Kusakabe. Perhaps that Crona would be pleasing me that our heartless is working perfectly syringing the heartless of original Asura Kusakabe. With our emotions in plan, we can kiss Real World AU goodbye to the Kusakabe Legacy and then our jealously would be over. Shaula, Arachne, come. We have to make our escape into Soul Eater's moon, we will overthrow the Kusakabe Legacy once and for all.

Shaula and Arachne : Yes, sis.

Inky Albarn : What do you think you're planning to do, Gorgon Sisters? Or should I say the hated enemeis of Soul World that goes against the Kusakabe Legacy. Where do you think you're trying to do on destroying the planet just to get away with murder?

Medusa Gorgon!? : (Gasping in shock) Y...You! You're not Maka Albarn! Who are you and what are you doing here!?

Shaula Gorgon : We were just minding our business that's all!

Arachne Gorgon : Yeah! N...Nothing much at least! (sweats nervously) We wouldn't hurt a fly on destroying the Kusakabe Legacy.

Inky Albarn : And what were you attempting on Destroying the Kusakabe Legacy for what?

Medusa Gorgon : Umm...I...I believe that we are planning to coup d'e tat the Kusakabe and the Kasugatani Legacy so that we can end our jealousy once and for all!

Inky Albarn : In an attempt on genocide by creating heartless doppelgangers from yourselves? Nice try, fakers. But it shall be me that will end your jealously, you and your so-called sister did that to witchkind and for taking the royal bloodline which you stole from, you cowards! (walks up to them as the Gorgons back up and cowers in fear)

Medusa Gorgon : Please! Why us! Why me!? All we just wanted was to end our jealousy over the Kusakabe and the Kasugatani! But what kind of family of sorcery is this supposed to happened, cowering in fear by the ones that Gave Crona to life!? You gotta understand us! We just want the Jealously ended! That's all we ever wanted, so we may have created our heartless doppelgangers as decoys so the Kusakabe and filthy teenagers would never suspect our real intentions! You got it all mixed up!

Inky Albarn : Shut your mouth, Heartless Genocider! You and your sisters have did naughty things to Humankind and witchkind, and even of course Demonkind. This is why villains like you are always such a pain in my ass! You creating a sadistic heartless of yourself to attack me so that you would get away of ending your jealously. But I believe that I will be the one that is going to teach you a lesson. You three witches deserve punishment in the slammers. I got a date with a 14-year old girl that looks alike me, and you three got a date with justice!

Medusa Gorgon : Wait! Don't come any closer! I was born to end our jealousy to overthrow the Kusakabe Legacy and of course the Kasugatani! I just want the jealously to end! I have the knowledge for this!

Inky Albarn : Too late! The only knowledge you'll ever find something to love is get you punished and heartless born from within the darkness, shall be perished!

Medusa Gorgon : No! Don't! Please! I beg of you for this! Nooo! We don't deserve this! (yelling) NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

"Ah, Justice! The Sweet taste of victory!"

~ Act 2 : Justice Against Heartless ~

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libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Yestreen, when he tried the nines

A treochair sequence

It’s a sin, and life yields; a honey Lip. He surpass her, save where I

often wearies all the dreams awake, for fear that you would run this

however this omission in his arms. She could love is no haþelez þat

hit hade wonde worþyly with dread, i’m a plain sae rashy, O, aboon

the whereof doth dwell in; so well? And made him free, but not a line had

Julia ever present, and hwen hit ofte, þat bremely taken he

sayned hym lykez. In me no more. With a reflection could be brought

myself a flaw discourage droop, despair; therefore I eþe þe, haþel, how

þay wroȝt. And the commes to come. Ne would have done with one glance on St.

Been a passion tis man we loved us. Which touches you with all her

kind; so she wept, and pleasure you. It is perfect fright but a tremulously

gentle canna be alright it’s gonna be your persons. Let

him but lent to die of Thirst. Each door; she lay clothed, she says tomorrow.

III

No dream of Heaven—from the heaviest tempest, it disdain’d to grow.

Upon the war; shall rise a gloue if hit be sothe þat he should brook a

wordless mind! And we schyn reuel and a day; now hyȝe, bot heterly receive:

for valour was not distinguishing lowe in her pillow. On golden

throne the world will the lamps around, all round her handle. To sing and

small pity mov’d, oh may wel wit no wont þe weder of ledez ar

on lenþe þe lufez vpon flet, of folȝande, in hor store; buy terms of my

wyrdes. Out went before to favourite science of þe Rounde Table.

I’m sensible, because is, one and þe halydam, and Kryst yow falles,

and let loose, or hers whom nakd the Tyrant in a vestal’s veins? A

second at the violet breath, bleed away; she rapt upon the panacea,

Sir! Of couardise and with þe best, not thus much the oceans roll!

Fro þe houndez, whettez hym ouer þe fest in Abraham’s bosom bounden,

in glade and þe gome in þe grene gered in the window and now

ȝe ar a sleper vnslyȝe, þat geten hem by a conniving still to

leave the rest. When she strove to thy heart re- sent; and so great use, in any

case; for thy pain, allow that grows; a school, the beares by being

mouth, extremely at home, with broader towards some euill were too slow, what were

the nest. Rhodes is the ineffable sense affords; sweet-gard’n-nymph, which mingle

act of immolation, heaven saw her sad ears like summer’s day;-

summer’s house I beheld the Mythological machinery, and syþen

he comes nerre without destroy the best he ne dyngez hym dresses, and

watched then by nature or thirty years, and provoked remark, or Jew; where

juries cast, where all his hode, and thine, an ignorant, noteless, timeless,

timeless, timeless, lastingly. The Northern front, and she was jealous

God, when share that Spring, tis surely and in the middle of being!

VII

And which I compile, who scorne, noiseless as the Spartan ladies þat

I haf sen a selly in mynde quen yow hider, er þis. My

love immortal work his should run through my unkind as you well knit: he

sees; on several pounds of hands that pious prayere, and he fyskez hem

harden into speed. Nor Loves commands despise, led by some time must come,

who both in your love a white cape on the woods. In menyng of monster

to have on displace, I can say is—that he might be saved, and with solace

of þe proude cropure, his man we love. And so have put my madness

seized my nursling new—like that sun thine eyes, attemper not been quiet.

VIII

Of lies, a meré mantile abof, menske þe mon on þe morn to fylle

þe godmon, þis gomen bygan, or some luckier night, o

carefull verse. Shall I part musk or civet can wake at nigh expell’d St.

Ye wadna been sae shy; for laik o’ gear ye lightens, and noȝt haf leue

liflode to take as knyȝtez vnder, þurȝ mony meruayle hym poȝt ful

longe quyle. Although from Indus to the comic Muse; nor envy her.

At having mind of the mind and so þikke, a stede stif kyng he most

atrocious. But with no doubt, it equally desire, swore lustily

he’d be revenge too deere force shall place so proude skyrtez, þe hede, and sturne,

and pass over the way to mine ear, The boisterous, just another land.

And then run away as thou and I am not to ask his mother.

Assist the point; the spiders throwes onely downe on me thundring

disdained, the first notes, irregular and squirm newly as from a sip

of hem, soft he settled graves are taxes on our joys to telle yow

here: iwysse sir, quyl I leue, me worþed þe broun bleeaunt, enbrauded abof,

menske þe mon may seem so many times, indeed a vertebra to

the flaw-blown rose, even as thy lovest thou no singing, each, the valiant

man! Brief, but know not wear your worth al þe wone of his brutal kind

of crews as renegadoes; which now this she presents lean em, ’t is

strained heavens fall into all she made vpon molde his day; but oh! Naked

in the conceit did melt me down to me, I can’t say, a Jew took off

his lyue; ofte he herd þe howndez þat his balȝe haunche, þat he mette, he

made at leisure with Juan. At the quiet scenes appeared, she uttermost,

I should under hand sharply that rose, and all must love the present; i’m

sensible, I trust that neither children leap, and pray for a hundred

visions and fickle Man is apt to rove: look abroad thro’ the Hebrew

Chronicle, how often wearies all things was angry when their clients,

because man is no dream is fled, by the smart. Then—i never durst begin

to do it for I bayþe hit now her height, or raise him first they seem

strange, how idle seem’d they be more uniform. And more triumphant prize.

XII

Whom these woods. And the land: betwixt extremes, but coasts of many a herle

of þis ryche ryal kyng of arwes— at vch farand fest among

the forth strydez, foundez þay þer þay wyth in oþer gome wyth blys into

þe Norþe Walez. Could sit down on the flocks do feede, where are the Fates change

ere night proclaim the clearer, farther awake, and þe leude and here I

sought; and the beautiful each and ages hence: two roads diverged in a

wicked people do, suffering blind mans marke, thou dost stay. Had not seem very

well, or pandering but the vision, which two cantos into

familiar guest. If any were boun busked bylyue. To all his steedes in

lowlye laye, and sayde soberly samen alle þat mon most dissemblings

when wearied on my spirit, unaware: Though all its range of duties

totall summe men hit hym þoȝt. And some mould, the little goes a long moment

was as one who have burnt each hapless name, a wretched the Donna

Julia and Don Fernan Nunez? And saw but soon wheel roun’, an’ I saw

a crowd pursue: night a countenaunce, emong the hasp of love. Melissa,

tinged with slow and connection, but can’t tell whether took the other

joys to pray turn your lofte, and of air—Rome’s ghost not own, but the past.

XIII

Half in dreams. My Spectre folly: thou steal to me, you that compass of

water we can be set withinne with as god wylle—and ho hym respite,

invade and my pretty gentleness the crowned, their languid eyes would

it have been wived, and cemmed, wyth to karp, til þe mon and catch at

any noke I oquere fynd, to end the brain that which the other in

the literary leaves with his happy mother to sing my Highland

Lassie, O. Survey the pedigree his sires would look, as roll the sea

of sorrows whence after-hands may move the heart in that bene with her

walour and govern the rack, and then two myle henne. And heave, as

in a harde as fresh—for he Music to heaven’s decease.

XIV

My hand tightens, and are as beauteous bride, and we are and unexplaining,

with a short-legged hen, if we can scarce held her writhing, my woe now

wasted fruit of love; so to his course of China brought with your leave me

not any other booty sought forgetfulness. Yet, when push’d by questions;

never saw. And file they labour to my turf, and þe halle, herande

for to come—Well, to reche myȝt, as I am, first inadvertent

brush the flower on earthlie mould’ring to the Turkish mart, her voice kept her

golde ay inmyddez, as his first creature, and Care: how lonely men speded

hom to hay is grassye ground of time to marriage is fledde, these books: hope.

Light, he told of those queers i remember. The terrace ranged aspect thrown;

each ravishers remained, flaming hair, and sacred be her father was

wildly clad; her eyes can see myself—me— that I do and why we came,

rank on rank; he gave way; him self might me; while life’s strange Poet-princess:

Lady Psyche and hornez ful ryche. ’Er this I heard by falling, Oh.

Received thing their happy herse, make we mery quyl we may have you more

tame flower singing, each, then, ’ said he, Out went to grasp. A thing and oar

of Adria’s god of pleasant city, and scimitars await thy weeding;

but where delightful lily of yourself here þeraboute abelef

as a busk ouer his dirty fee, and lose thronge, with little plants of

man the wakes up and ful siker my trawþe.— A true Hidalgo, free and

sayde þe behoues. Always remember you is here! Resting still shows, kill

me with þe hede of þe bitter Eldre braunch, laments of alabaster.

XVI

And laȝter. To the watch’d her own; this most dear excepting nature holds

out half undo it. Be better learning to lasse luf in his grave never

heart her could not see thy widows, she resolved on air that cause thou

mayst attune thy quill, and, turn’d, and the long carpet lies: o write within,

which old- recurring wash of a Good Son, who his Dominion sweet to

her beloved nor yet recover. And wyth knotted rushrings, and catch

at any of thee, gaze o’er a name, above the style, and Cymon

suddenly forgive, though fame is my loof, i’m thine eyes the teacups, after

thee, and crispeth with chosen friend, do you feel no more, but took a new

one from the fabulous folds of Time, perhaps that before the Flood, and

yet rolls on thy stead performed of golde; þe werbelande wynde wapped fro

þe fale erþe; ner slayn for gode of þe ȝonge; much steuen, and þat, for we

hold Thee just, and I strove to weep. At last, who had fallen—on this sere

pyne, þat day dele his fare þat he þurȝ þis fryth and her maids tenderness.

Lemons, and lyȝt horce launce. Must be born were boun busked on þat rurde

he of þe fayrer to his bed hym drynk, and latent in a curbside

pool. With pain and felaȝschyp forbe al þyng, his chek for new joy; but oh!

XVII

The shadows haunting now. Thou by the spouse: her college and all the heroes

of his rage and þe goddess of gods adultery, is more

reconciling ray, and winds arise, a bastard vile, a beast with stupidly

admire how thou canst sit, and to his luflych aloft lepez

ouergrowen; wel bisemed, and look’d, and touches you with alle þe lorde

fyrst cource in þe colde erþe to welcome her son so—i’m very certain

the one POU STO whence around. A naked in a letters in her legs’

sincere the Beadsman, after all, that unfair which, with Mador de la

Port. For there we weep; and so that they call these stone where were time of on

wyȝes þat knit ar þerinne, þat I wear those who champion’d his arms were joined.

XVIII

Had given her soft lips lie apartment in the hallow’d by the difference

me, hate were ye as poor guide. One asked, how great’s the song, although please

to frame: enough still left to sanctify the deuce they sought; and held her

thou darest in my view set all this is the beil’, where the wrong on the

dead world is dimme and gomenly he sayde, now, sir swete, boþe þe barres of

talkyng noble, wich spede is in speche, for many a flowers, mother

know, but then the Hand of children still to dote upon the last: a

peacefully! Selling everywhere, art still the soot that two at Conway dwell.

XIX

Til þe sunne, þe stel hondelez, dubbed wyth ful comly bykennen to

rest by cool Eurotas they will say, when separate cages, instead of

sunshine and ink for schame! Ran before the stage. Generate mind. Is much

to pleased amid their former friend remember how the vows I made. Your

name in ordinary place? And þou hatz forred, and said … Nay, we loved

his pain, and hade ben soiourned sadly; sele yow be chose a morsel

he and Juan throttled him of calling too. Have, to rent her sleep of death.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #199 texts #treochair sequence

0 notes

planetofmarz · 2 years ago

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SUBSLIKESCRIPT

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Hamilton - subtitles like script

HAMILTON (2021) - FULL TRANSCRIPT

The real life of one of America's foremost founding fathers and first Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton.

Ladies and gentlemen,

this is your king, George III.

Welcome to Hamilton.

At this time,

please silence all cell phones

and other electronic devices.

All photography and video recording

is strictly prohibited.

Thank you, and enjoy my show.

♪ How does a bastard, orphan ♪

♪ Son of a whore and a Scotsman ♪

♪ Dropped in the middle of

A forgotten spot in the Caribbean ♪

♪ By providence

Impoverished, in squalor ♪

♪ Grow up to be a hero and a scholar? ♪

♪ The ten-dollar founding father

Without a father ♪

♪ Got a lot farther ♪

♪ By working a lot harder ♪

♪ By being a lot smarter ♪

♪ By being a self-starter ♪

♪ By 14, they placed him

In charge of a trading charter ♪

♪ And every day, while slaves

Were being slaughtered ♪

♪ And carted away across the waves ♪

♪ He struggled and kept his guard up ♪

♪ Inside, he was longing

For something to be a part of ♪

♪ The brother was ready to beg

Steal, borrow or barter ♪

♪ Then a hurricane came

And devastation reigned ♪

♪ Our man saw his future

Drip-dripping down the drain ♪

♪ Put a pencil to his temple

Connected it to his brain ♪

♪ And he wrote his first refrain

A testament to his pain ♪

♪ Well, the word got around

They said, "This kid is insane, man" ♪

♪ Took up a collection

Just to send him to the mainland ♪

♪ Get your education

Don't forget from whence you came ♪

♪ And the world's gonna know your name ♪

♪ What's your name, man? ♪

♪ Alexander Hamilton ♪

♪ My name is Alexander Hamilton ♪

♪ And there's a million things

I haven't done ♪

♪ But just you wait ♪

♪ Just you wait ♪

♪ When he was ten his father split

Full of it, debt-ridden ♪

♪ Two years later

See Alex and his mother bedridden ♪

♪ Half dead, sittin' in their own sick ♪

♪ The scent thick and... ♪

♪ Alex got better

But his mother went quick ♪

♪ Moved in with a cousin

The cousin committed suicide ♪

♪ Left him with nothing but ruined pride

Something new inside ♪

♪ A voice saying ♪

♪ "Alex, you gotta fend for yourself" ♪

♪ He started retreatin' and readin'

Every treatise on the shelf ♪

♪ There would've been nothing left to do

For someone less astute ♪

♪ He would've been dead or destitute

Without a cent of restitution ♪

♪ Started working

Clerking for his late mother's landlord ♪

♪ Tradin' sugarcane and rum

And all the things he can't afford ♪

- ♪ Scammin' ♪

- ♪ Scammin' for every book ♪

♪ He can get his hands on ♪

- ♪ Plannin' ♪

- ♪ Plannin' for the future ♪

♪ See him now as he stands on

The bow of a ship ♪

♪ Headed for a new land ♪

♪ In New York you can be a new man ♪

♪ Just you wait ♪

-♪ In New York you can be a new man ♪

-♪ Just you wait ♪

♪ In New York you can be a new man ♪

♪ In New York, New York ♪

♪ Just you wait ♪

♪ Alexander Hamilton ♪

-♪ We are waiting in the wings for you ♪

-♪ Waiting in the wings for you ♪

♪ You could never back down ♪

♪ You never learned to take your ♪

♪ Time ♪

-♪ Oh, Alexander Hamilton ♪

-♪ Alexander Hamilton ♪

♪ When America sings for you ♪

♪ Will they know what you overcame? ♪

♪ Will they know you rewrote the game? ♪

♪ The world ♪

♪ Will never be the same ♪

♪ Oh ♪

♪ The ship is in the harbor now ♪

- ♪ See if you can spot him ♪

- ♪ Just you wait ♪

♪ Another immigrant

Comin' up from the bottom ♪

♪ Just you wait ♪

♪ His enemies destroyed his rep

America forgot him ♪

♪ We fought with him ♪

♪ Me, I died for him ♪

♪ Me, I trusted him ♪

♪ Me, I loved him ♪

♪ And me ♪

♪ I'm the damn fool that shot him ♪

♪ There's a million things

I haven't done ♪

♪ But just you wait ♪

♪ What's your name, man? ♪

♪ Alexander Hamilton ♪

♪ 1776 ♪

♪ New York City ♪

♪ Pardon me, are you Aaron Burr, sir? ♪

♪ That depends

Who's asking? ♪

♪ Oh, well, sure

Sir, I'm Alexander Hamilton ♪

♪ I'm at your service, sir

I have been looking for you ♪

♪ I'm getting nervous ♪

♪ Sir, I heard your name at Princeton ♪

♪ I was seeking

An accelerated course of study ♪

♪ When I got sort of out of sorts

With a buddy of yours ♪

♪ I may have punched him

It's a blur, sir ♪

♪ He handles the financials ♪

-♪ You punched the bursar? ♪

-♪ Yes ♪

♪ I wanted to do what you did ♪

♪ Graduate in two

Then join the revolution ♪

♪ He looked at me like I was stupid

I'm not stupid ♪

♪ So, how'd you do it?

How'd you graduate so fast? ♪

♪ It was my parents' dying wish

Before they passed ♪

♪ You're an orphan

Of course ♪

♪ I'm an orphan

God, I wish there was a war ♪

♪ Then we could prove that we're worth

More than anyone bargained for ♪

♪ Can I buy you a drink? ♪

♪ That would be nice ♪

♪ While we're talking

Let me offer you some free advice ♪

♪ Talk less ♪

♪ What? ♪

-♪ Smile more ♪

-Ha.

♪ Don't let them know

What you're against or what you're for ♪

♪ You can't be serious ♪

-♪ You wanna get ahead? ♪

-♪ Yes ♪

♪ Fools who run their mouths off ♪

♪ Wind up dead ♪

♪ Oh, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo!

What time is it? ♪

♪ Showtime! ♪

♪ Like I said ♪

♪ Showtime! Showtime! Yo! ♪

♪ I'm John Laurens in the place to be ♪

♪ Had two pints of Sam Adams

But I'm workin' on three ♪

♪ Those redcoats don't want it with me ♪

♪ 'Cause I will ♪

♪ These cops till I'm free ♪

♪ Oui, oui, mon ami

Je m'appelle Lafayette ♪

♪ The Lancelot of the revolutionary set ♪

♪ I came from afar just to say bonsoir ♪

♪ Tell the king "casse-toi"

Who is the best? C'est moi ♪

♪ I am Hercules Mulligan

Up in it, lovin' it ♪

♪ Yes, I heard your mother say

"Come again?" ♪

♪ Lock up your daughters and horses ♪

♪ Of course, it's hard to have intercourse

Over four sets of corsets ♪

Whoa! ♪ No more sex

Pour me another brew, son ♪

- ♪ Let's raise a couple more ♪

- ♪ To the revolution ♪

♪ Well, if it ain't the prodigy

Of Princeton College ♪

Aaron Burr.

♪ Give us a verse

Drop some knowledge ♪

♪ Good luck with that

You're takin' a stand ♪

♪ You spit, I'mma sit ♪

-♪ We'll see where we land ♪

-Boo!

♪ Burr, the revolution's imminent

What do you stall for? ♪

♪ If you stand for nothing, Burr

What'll you fall for? ♪

-♪ Ooh, who are you? ♪

-♪ Who are you? ♪

♪ Who are you? ♪

♪ Ooh, who is this kid?

What's he gonna do? ♪

♪ I am not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I am not throwing away

My shot ♪

♪ Hey, yo, I'm just like my country

I'm young, scrappy and hungry ♪

♪ And I'm not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I'mma get a scholarship

To King's College ♪

♪ I probably shouldn't brag

But dag, I amaze and astonish ♪

♪ The problem is I got a lot of brains

But no polish ♪

♪ I gotta holler just to be heard ♪

♪ With every word I drop knowledge ♪

♪ I'm a diamond in the rough

A shiny piece of coal ♪

♪ Tryin' to reach my goal

My power of speech, unimpeachable ♪

♪ Only 19, but my mind is older ♪

♪ These New York City streets get colder ♪

♪ I shoulder every burden ♪

♪ Every disadvantage

I have learned to manage ♪

♪ I don't have a gun to brandish

I walk these streets famished ♪

♪ The plan is to fan this spark

Into a flame ♪

♪ But damn, it's getting dark

So let me spell out the name ♪

-♪ I am the ♪

-♪ A-L-E-X-A-N-D-E-R ♪

♪ We are meant to be ♪

♪ A colony that runs independently ♪

♪ Meanwhile, Britain

Keeps shittin' on us endlessly ♪

♪ Essentially, they tax us relentlessly ♪

♪ Then King George turns around

Runs a spending spree ♪

♪ He ain't ever gonna

Set his descendants free ♪

♪ So there will be a revolution

In this century ♪

-♪ Enter me ♪

-♪ He says in parentheses ♪

♪ And don't be shocked

When your history book mentions me ♪

♪ I will lay down my life

If it sets us free ♪

♪ Eventually you'll see my ascendancy ♪

-♪ And I am not throwing away my shot ♪

-♪ My shot ♪

-♪ I am not throwing away my shot ♪

-♪ My shot ♪

♪ Hey, yo, I'm just like my country

I'm young, scrappy and hungry ♪

♪ And I'm not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I am not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I am not throwing away

My shot ♪

♪ Hey, yo, I'm just like my country

I'm young, scrappy and hungry ♪

♪ And I'm not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ It's time to take a shot ♪

♪ I dream of life without a monarchy ♪

♪ The unrest in France

Will lead to "on-archy" ♪

♪ "On-archy?" How you say? ♪

♪ Anarchy ♪

♪ When I fight

I make the other side panicky ♪

♪ With my shot ♪

♪ Yo, I'm a tailor's apprentice ♪

♪ And I got y'all knuckleheads

In loco parentis ♪

♪ I'm joining the rebellion ♪

♪ 'Cause I know it's my chance

To socially advance ♪

♪ Instead of sewin' some pants ♪

-♪ I'm gonna take a shot ♪

-Shot!

♪ But we'll never be truly free ♪

♪ Until those in bondage

Have the same rights as you and me ♪

♪ You and I, do or die ♪

♪ Wait till I sally in on a stallion

With the first black battalion ♪

♪ Have another shot ♪

♪ Geniuses, lower your voices ♪

♪ You keep out of trouble

And you double your choices ♪

♪ I'm with you

But the situation is fraught ♪

♪ You've got to be carefully taught ♪

♪ If you talk, you're gonna get shot ♪

♪ Burr, check what we got ♪

♪ Mr. Lafayette

Hard rock like Lancelot ♪

♪ I think your pants look hot

Laurens, I like you a lot ♪

♪ Let's hatch a plot blacker

Than the kettle callin' the pot ♪

♪ What are the odds

The gods would put us all in one spot ♪

♪ Poppin' a squat on conventional wisdom

Like it or not ♪

♪ A bunch of revolutionary

Manumission abolitionists ♪

♪ Give me a position

Show me where the ammunition is ♪

♪ Oh, am I talkin' too loud? ♪

♪ Sometimes I get overexcited

Shoot off at the mouth ♪

♪ I never had a group of friends before

I promise that I'll make y'all proud ♪

♪ Let's get this guy in front of a crowd ♪

♪ I am not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I am not throwing away

My shot ♪

♪ Hey, yo, I'm just like my country

I'm young, scrappy and hungry ♪

♪ And I'm not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I am not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I am not throwing away

My shot ♪

♪ Hey, yo, I'm just like my country

I'm young, scrappy and hungry ♪

♪ And I'm not throwing away my shot ♪

Everybody sing!

♪ Whoa, whoa, whoa ♪

Hey!

-♪ Whoa ♪

-Whoo!

♪ Whoa ♪

-Said let 'em hear ya! Let's go!

-♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa, whoa ♪

♪ I said shout it to the rooftops! ♪

-♪ Whoa ♪

-♪ Said to the rooftops! ♪

♪ Whoa ♪

-Come on!

-♪ Yeah ♪

Come on, let's go!

♪ Rise up ♪

♪ When you're living on your knees

You rise up ♪

♪ Tell your brother

That he's gotta rise up ♪

♪ Tell your sister

That she's gotta rise up ♪

♪ When are these colonies gonna rise up? ♪

♪ When are these colonies

Gonna rise up? ♪

♪ When are these colonies gonna rise up? ♪

♪ When are these colonies

Gonna rise up? ♪

♪ Rise up! ♪

♪ I imagine death so much

It feels more like a memory ♪

♪ When is it gonna get me? ♪

♪ In my sleep? Seven feet ahead of me? ♪

♪ If I see it comin'

Do I run, or do I let it be? ♪

♪ Is it like a beat without a melody? ♪

♪ See, I never thought I'd live past 20 ♪

♪ Where I come from

Some get half as many ♪

♪ Ask anybody why we livin' fast

And we laugh, reach for a flask ♪

♪ We have to make this moment last ♪

♪ That's plenty

Scratch that ♪

♪ This is not a moment

It's the movement ♪

♪ Where all the hungriest brothers

With something to prove went ♪

♪ Foes oppose us

We take an honest stand ♪

♪ We roll like Moses

Claimin' our promised land ♪

♪ And if we win our independence? ♪

♪ Is that a guarantee of freedom

For our descendants? ♪

♪ Or will the blood we shed

Begin an endless cycle ♪

♪ Of vengeance and death

With no defendants? ♪

♪ I know the action in the street

Is excitin' ♪

♪ But, Jesus

Between all the bleedin' and fightin' ♪

♪ I've been readin' and writin' ♪

♪ We need to handle

Our financial situation ♪

♪ Are we a nation of states?

What's the state of our nation? ♪

♪ I'm past patiently waitin' ♪

♪ I'm passionately smashin'

Every expectation ♪

♪ Every action's an act of creation ♪

♪ I'm laughin' in the face

Of casualties and sorrow ♪

♪ For the first time

I'm thinkin' past tomorrow ♪

♪ And I am not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ I am not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ Hey, yo, I'm just like my country

I'm young, scrappy and hungry ♪

♪ And I'm not throwing away my shot ♪

♪ We gonna rise up!

Time to take a shot ♪

♪ We gonna rise up!

Time to take a shot ♪

-♪ We gonna... ♪

-♪ We're gonna rise up, rise up ♪

-♪ It's time to take a shot! ♪

-♪ Rise up, rise up ♪

-♪ It's time to take a shot! ♪

-♪ Rise up ♪

-♪ It's time to take a shot! ♪

-♪ Rise up ♪

♪ Take a shot! Shot! Shot! ♪

-♪ Ay-yo, it's time to take a shot! ♪

-♪ Whoa, whoa, whoa ♪

♪ And I am not throwin' away my ♪

♪ Not throwin' away my shot! ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa, whoa ♪

♪ Hey! ♪

-♪ Whoa ♪

-Whoo!

♪ Whoa ♪

-Let 'em hear ya! Come on.

-♪ Yeah ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa, whoa ♪

One last round, gents.

♪ I may not live to see our glory ♪

♪ But I will gladly join the fight ♪

♪ And when our children tell our story ♪

♪ And when our children

Tell our story ♪

♪ They'll tell the story of tonight ♪

Let's have another round tonight.

♪ Let's have another round tonight ♪

♪ Raise a glass to freedom ♪

♪ Something they can never take away ♪

♪ No matter what they tell you ♪

♪ Raise a glass to the four of us ♪

♪ Tomorrow there'll be more of us ♪

♪ Telling the story of tonight ♪

♪ They'll tell the story of tonight ♪

♪ Raise a glass to freedom ♪

♪ Something they can never take away ♪

♪ No matter what they tell you ♪

♪ Let's have another round tonight ♪

♪ Raise a glass to the four of us ♪

♪ Tomorrow there'll be more of us ♪

♪ Telling the story of tonight ♪

♪ Let's have another round tonight ♪

♪ They'll tell the story of tonight ♪

♪ Raise a glass to freedom ♪

♪ They'll tell the story of tonight ♪

♪ Raise a glass to freedom ♪

♪ They'll tell the story of tonight ♪

♪ Tell the story of ♪

♪ Tonight ♪

♪ There's nothing rich folks love more ♪

♪ Than going downtown

And slummin' it with the poor ♪

♪ They pull up in their carriages and gawk

At the students in the common ♪

♪ Just to watch them talk ♪

♪ Take Philip Schuyler

The man is loaded ♪

♪ Uh-oh, but little does he know ♪

♪ That his daughters

Peggy, Angelica, Eliza ♪

♪ Sneak into the city

Just to watch all the guys at-- ♪

♪ Work, work ♪

♪ Angelica ♪

-♪ Work, work ♪

-♪ Eliza ♪

-♪ And Peggy ♪

-♪ Work, work ♪

-♪ The Schuyler sisters ♪

-♪ Angelica ♪

-♪ Peggy ♪

-♪ Eliza ♪

♪ Work ♪

♪ Daddy said to be home by sundown ♪

♪ Daddy doesn't need to know ♪

♪ Daddy said not to go downtown ♪

♪ Like I said, you're free to go ♪

♪ But look around, look around ♪

♪ The revolution's happening in New York ♪

♪ New York ♪

♪ Angelica, work ♪

♪ It's bad enough

Daddy wants to go to war ♪

♪ People shouting in the square ♪

♪ It's bad enough

There'll be violence on our shore ♪

♪ New ideas in the air ♪

♪ Look around, look around ♪

♪ Angelica, remind me

What we're looking for ♪

♪ She's lookin' for me! ♪

♪ Eliza, I'm lookin' for a mind at work ♪

♪ Work, work ♪

-♪ I'm lookin' for a mind at work ♪

-♪ Work, work ♪

-♪ I'm lookin' for a mind at work ♪

-♪ Work, work ♪

♪ Whoa, whoa ♪

-♪ Work ♪

-Whoo.

♪ There's nothin'

Like summer in the city ♪

♪ Someone in a rush

Next to someone lookin' pretty ♪

♪ Excuse me, miss

I know it's not funny ♪

♪ But your perfume smells

Like your daddy's got money ♪

♪ Why you slummin' in the city

In your fancy heels? ♪

♪ You searchin' for an urchin

Who can give you ideals? ♪

♪ Burr, you disgust me ♪

♪ Ah, so you've discussed me ♪

♪ I'm a trust fund, baby

You can trust me ♪

♪ I've been reading "Common Sense"

By Thomas Paine ♪

♪ So men say that I'm intense

Or I'm insane ♪

♪ You want a revolution?

I wanna revelation ♪

♪ So listen to my declaration ♪

♪ "We hold these truths to be self-evident

That all men are created equal" ♪

-♪ And when I meet Thomas Jefferson ♪

-♪ Ah ♪

♪ I'mma compel him to include women

In the sequel ♪

♪ Work ♪

♪ Look around, look around ♪

♪ At how lucky we are

To be alive right now ♪

♪ Look around, look around ♪

♪ At how lucky we are

To be alive right now ♪

What the fuck

1 note · View note

buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

my sergeant

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky breaks into your house to make you keep remember one thing.

word count: 1.352 words.

warnings/tags: nsfw, +18!!! clothes on, unprotected sex, hair pulling, language, cursing, sergeant!kink, praise!kink, mention of bodily fluids, a little possessive!bucky, and i don't know what else.

author notes: i'm not sorry for this scene turning me on af every time i watch it. reposted because it didn't show in the tags. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

Your eyes snapped open, sitting up on your bed barely breathing. You were agitated after having another nightmare you couldn't remember once you were awake. At least this time, you weren't covered in sweat, but your whole body was on fire. Tossing the sheets away, you got up bare feet to head to the kitchen and drink a very much needed glass of freshwater. You drank it in one gulp, gasping while leaving it inside the sink. With both hands on the edge of the counter, you inclined your head back, putting your eyes on the ceiling. Those bad dreams would be the death for you one day, you knew it.

As you felt more calmed and recomforted, you turned around with the intention of going to your bed again. But that was left in the background at the moment you glimpsed Bucky sitting at the dinner table. He didn't scare you, not at all. You were starting to get used to find him there, waiting for you, in the middle of the gloom. He looked exhausted too. Deadly tired. He was reclined against the chair, legs slightly spread and his arm made of vibranium over the table. The soldier didn't utter a word, following your steps walking closer to him with his shiny blue eyes. He didn't even move a muscle when you sat on his lap and placed both hands on the sides of his neck.

Leaning ahead, you pecked his rough and dry lips slowly, taking your time with no rush. Bucky just closed his eyes, slipping his hands down to your hips, nailing his fingers there. He couldn't help but growl quietly the second your mouth trailed a path of short, ephemeral kisses to his jawline till reaching his throat, forcing him to toss his head back. Unconsciously, he urged you to swing your body on top of his. You dragged your incisors on his Adam's apple, causing him to swallow a soft gasp, feeling his digits grabbing your hips strongly —probably, that gesture would leave some marks on your skin.

“I've missed you”. You purred coming back your attention to his lips, as the bulge under the rigid fabric of his pants became bigger and harder because of your dance. You were aware that he looked for you whenever he wanted to put his feet on the ground, feel loved, desired. “My Sergeant…”

Bucky didn't open his eyes, sliding his cold palm to your lower waist and landing the warm one on the back of your head to tangle it in your hair. You groaned against his lips before they were hungrily devoured. The heat in your core grew by leaps and bounds when he repositioned you on his legs and his solid erection was placed under your weakest spot. You couldn't hold back a delicate, sweet moan. One of these that used to drive him insane. With his left hand, Bucky continued encouraging you to rock your hips against his crotch, rubbing it concretely among your folds covered by the soaked fabric of your panties.

You hated sometimes the control he had over you, over your body, over your mind. He could put you to beg with just one look. And he knew it. You were his, that was the absolute truth. And he wanted something else from you, as soon as you increased the pace. Bucky didn't care about your t-shirt, using both of his hands to rip it off from your body. Ruining it like he was going to ruin you. His hand of vibranium went straight to your breasts, giving you goosebumps because of the contrast of his cold fingers pinching them as he caught one of your nipples between his warm lips. You whined his name, securing your hands on his shoulders, out of the world while the sensitivity of your wet and needed cunt became more sensible to the firm rubbing against your panties.

“You want to cum, don't you, babydoll?” He hummed squeezing the nipple covered in his saliva using his thumb and his forefinger, bringing his lips closer to yours.

“Yes… Yes, Sergeant”. You pouted at him, nodding with your chin and looking at him through your eyelids.

“I knew you needed me… I knew my sweet girl needed her Sergeant to make her feel good, am I wrong?” Bucky's hoarse tone was pushing you to the seventh heaven, feeling the tickles borning within your lower belly, swinging your body faster over his rock-hard dick.

“No… No, you're… you're not”. You babbled this time, seeing him curling up the corner of his lips in that charming and breathtaking smirk of him. “I ne— need you inside me… I need you to… fuck me like you me— mean it, my Sergeant, please, I beg you”.

“I will, babydoll, I will… 'Cause you're a good, good girl”. Bucky affirmed unhurriedly, peppering your swollen lips, remembering how good they looked around his cock —sucking his soul out of his body— the last time he appeared in your house. “Open your mouth”.

You obeyed instantly, swallowing a loud whining, letting him tuck his cold thumb between your lips. You licked it using your tongue, giving him a whole show and noticing how a storm of darkness covered his pale blue orbs. When he decided it was well covered in your saliva, Bucky directed it to your panties, not pulling them aside. And he drew circles on your throbbing clit, pressing his fingertip enough to stroke it.

“Oh, f— fuck, Sergeant”. You sobbed arching your back, very close to being thrown above the edge of your limits.

“C'mon, babydoll… cum for me… Show me what only I can make you feel”. He whispered into your ear. A raspy voice that gave you shivers down your backbone. “You're so damn soaked I can feel it under my clothes… Good lord… what a dirty girl you are…”

“Only fo— for you”.

Your response came an instant before the fireworks exploded inside your belly, not being able to stop when the orgasm hit your soul crying his name, dancing your cunt onto his hard cock needed of him. Your thighs strained, your legs were shaking, hanging above the floor and you were panting nonsense words about your Sergeant.

Bucky stormed his tongue into your mouth, invading it with no mercy to dominate yours. Placing his hands back to your hips, he forced you to keep moving, stealing the less air inside your lungs. He was about to cum too, but it'd be a waste if he did it in his boxers; stopping you at the precise moment to push you back enough to undo his belt and zip. Bucky didn't let you time to react. As his cock covered in his own arousal broke free and he removed your ruined panties to the side, he lifted you sufficiently to impale your pussy down.

“Fuck!” You both hissed at the same time, closing strongly your eyelids.

Bucky made you bounce onto his rigid erection, once and once, keen to fill you up with his heated seed. You were a bundle of moans, sobs, and pleas, feeling his most sensible skin stretching your soaked walls and twitching between them. He didn't give you prior notice. Bucky just cum inside your cunt, pushing you down harder till his dick was balls-deep beyond your limits. He growled against your throat, pulling back your hair and your head, to nail his teeth in your sweaty skin.

“Oh, god, my Sergeant…” You gasped with a wrecked tone of voice, finding balance by gripping his jacket in two fists.

“You look like Heaven, babydoll… But you feel like Hell”. Bucky rumbled, making your whole anatomy shake again. “What a shame 'm gonna destroy you tonight…”

And by destroying you he meant you wouldn't be able to walk the next morning, not even to talk because what he has planned for you was to fuck every sweet, warm hole of you —your mouth, your ass, your pussy. Or rather, his mouth, his ass, his pussy. Bucky would make you keep remembering who you belonged to.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and REBLOG!!! 🤍

TAG LIST: @mystic-232 @homesicam @theresnoplatypus @i-love-scott-mccall @slutfornat @goldielocks2004 @whatrambles @multiyfandomgirl40 @spidergirla5 @fanofalltheficsx @nocturnalherb16 @valenquei @golden-hoax @hunter-of-baker-street @missusstark @vhscherry @warm-sensations @addictedtofictionalcharacters @sarahsmcu @tinylumpiaa @amelia-song-pond @heartislubbingdubbing @stolenxkissess @clean-and-claire @winchestersgirl222 @virgoroses @marvel-ousnesss @me-a-hopeless-romantic @rvgrsbrns @maccasbeard @haileygarciasunshine @lewd-alien @kait-is-always-late @mckenna @weenersoldierr @mxltifaves @soldierstucky @theboldandthebootyful @arkofblake @isabellamur @kiwisa @spider-man-lover @rosiebrands @stealapizzamyheart @koressecretidentity @asemistablehundredyearoldman @mayans-sauce @petlaufeyson @megapeacelovemusic-blog @phoenixhalliwell

#R E P O S T E D because tumblr fucked it up #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #bucky x reader #the winter soldier x reader

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rodeo-boots · 4 years ago

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Idk who all you write for--but I see your requests are open, and I'd love some Hosea x reader (gender neutral or female) and maybe some nsfw? I'm open to anything, be it vanilla to kink--write what you want! Or, if you dont write hosea, maybe you could write some for Javier x reader? Anything at all 💙💙💙 I love your work!

I've written Hosea for the first time here, so hopefully I could do him justice. Thanks for the request, I hope you'll like the result!

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2065

AO3

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

"What are you reading there?" You stepped closer, your head tilted in curiosity, approaching Hosea where he sat at the table. It was still early morning, the chill not yet gone from the air, the rich scent of coffee spreading from Pearson's wagon.

"Oh, Good Morning." Hosea looked up at you, a kind smile shaping on his face as you placed a hand upon his shoulder to peer over it. "Actually, it's Notre-Dame de Paris, written by a French-man."

You quirked a brow, sitting down on the table-top in front of him. "Is it in French?"

A nod. Your curiosity spiked further.

"You can speak French?" Now, whatever sleepiness might've clouded your brain was gone for good, your stare trained on Hosea in expectancy of an answer.

The man chuckled, closing the book and putting it down on the table, almost sheepishly reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Well, you learn some things travelin' as much as we did," he explained, though it was clear that wouldn't diminish your amazement. As far as you knew, neither Dutch nor Arthur had picked up any foreign languages on their way here.

"I picked up some words here and there, and before I knew it, I got through an entire book of these funny words." He patted the novel upon the table, crossing his legs when he leaned back.

"You surprise me every day," you spoke, hearing him chuckle yet again, looking up to catch the subtle shake of his head. You risked a glance into the book, flipping through a couple of pages, though the words upon the paper made little sense to you. "Could you teach me?" You asked, finding his stare once more. "It looks like nonsense now, but it'd probably be fun... learning a new language."

His eyes grew gentle, Hosea placing his hand over yours to squeeze it. You've noticed before, how cold his palms used to feel these days, but he wouldn't take your concern. "Later, my dear," he promised you, running his thumb over your knuckles. "First, we got work to do." And with that, he nudged you in encouragement, pushing himself off the chair in the next moment to start into the day.

After fleeing from Blackwater as sudden as you had to, most of your and the other's belongings had to be left behind. You could only guess that most things you have once held dear were now in the hands of Pinkertons, possibly scattered all around your former campsite and destroyed. But there had been no time to grief before. And what mattered now was that you got back onto your legs, the entire gang left in disarray after your previous hopes had been shut down so swiftly.

You didn't hate working, had no problem putting in the extra effort to make this camp into as much of a home as could be. It was only a faint hope, staying here for longer than a couple weeks a time, but at the moment, it was what you had left to hold onto, and with Dutch's certainty about his plans, who were you to raise your voice?

The day drew to an end before you knew it, the hay bales you had moved to the horses for the evening barely visible to your eyes by now. With a soft exhale, you reached up to wipe sweat from your brow, glad that the cold couldn't bother you much with all the exercise you've done.

Footsteps behind you alerted you of someone's presence, your head turning in time to focus on Hosea. A smile shaped upon your lips.

You still remembered the promise he had spoken in the morning hours, certain that with the day now done, you had plenty of time for a good language lesson.

"Excusez-moj, chèrie," he spoke sweetly, guiding his arms around your waist from behind, not planning to startle you in the slightest. He smiled against your neck, holding you close and gentle, the little hairs standing at attention upon your skin. "I don't mean to keep you from your tasks," he added, still keeping his arms in place. Although clearly, you had no issue with that.

"I'm all done here," you answered, leaning back in his embrace, placing your own hands above his on your front. "But I don't know how much knowledge I can absorb just now." A soft laugh escaped your lips, head tilting to find Hosea's gaze briefly. "Today's work has worn me out, I must say."

He hummed lightly, thoughtfully. "Now, what could we do about that?" His words drove heat to your cheeks, the sound of his voice reverberating through your entire being. You knew what he was alluding to, always able to decipher when he got into this very special mood.

"I reckon you'd still like a lesson, n'est-ce pas?" A shiver ran down your spine, your throat suddenly feeling rather dry. You nodded either way, eager to see where he was planning to take this.

Hosea released you, casting a look over his shoulder in contemplation, aware that John had taken his guarding post not too far from your location. "Not here," he said, gently taking your arm to lead you back into camp, your brow quirking when he gestured for John's tent.

"What would he say to that?" You chuckled, entering it still. After all the years you've known Hosea, he's constantly shown himself as more adventurous than a glance at him might indicate, keeping you on your toes with everything he came up with. This site surely wasn't the most outlandish you've loved one another in.

"I've given it to him, so I can use it should the need arise," Hosea answered easily, closing the tent flaps behind you. "Besides, he won't ever have to know," the man added, cupping your cheeks in his hands to bring you close for a kiss, a sigh slipping past your lips at his passionate movements.

Everything happened in a blur after the initial touch of your lips, clothing falling to the floor as Hosea led you towards the bed, shedding the fabric upon his frame just as well. You plopped down on the cot with a shaky laugh, trying to catch his lips again, though he got to his knees in front of you instead, peering up at you with ardor glinting in his eyes.

"You gonna speak French between my legs?" You giggled, your voice playful and cocky. It seemed to pique his interest.

"If that is what you so desire," he answered, cold palms running up the sides of your thighs, encouraging you to spread them for him in the next moment.

You bit down on your lower lip, your eyes glued to your sweetheart upon his knees, hands slipping into his short hair. A warm gust of air was what you felt first, as he leaned down, teasing you by kissing a trail up your thigh, moving on to the other one whilst pointedly ignoring your aching middle. "Hosea," you couldn't keep yourself from whining, fingers tightening in his hair.

He shushed you softly, glancing up at your face for a second before returning to his ministrations, the muscles in your stomach rippling the closer he got to your core. "Please–" your voice cut off into a soft moan, the sound entirely satisfied with his lips finding their target, kissing right where you needed to be kissed. Your eyes fluttered shut on their own, laying back to let Hosea work his magic, the sounds from your lips turning higher and sweeter with every precise swirl of his tongue.

Hosea used his fingers with equal precision, gently working you open around him, poking and prodding at all the spots that heightened your pleasure.

Could you speak any French, you would've encouraged him in the language he's taught himself, but alas, all that left your mouth were coos and mewls. You were melting beneath him, certain that there was no way for you to endure much longer, the pleasure within your core becoming unbearable to handle. "Darling, I'm gonna--" you warned him, the sound of your voice met with the sensations stopping altogether, a groan rumbling through your chest in frustration.

As much as you didn't want this moment to come to an end, you've been close just now– impossibly so, throwing an arm over your eyes when Hosea crawled over you. The breath still rang shakily through your lungs, your eyes not yet meeting his when he kissed his way up your body, running his palms over your sides until your skin perked up with goosebumps.

"Ne désespère pas," he whispered, mouthing his way up to your ear for his words to resound through you, another soft whine leaving your lips. Hosea pushed the arm away from your eyes, kissing the back of your hand before he entangled his fingers with your own. "Hello there," he smiled at you, your eyes peeking open to return the gesture in kind.

"Are you ready for more?" He asked softly, caressing your cheek with his free hand, his stomach resting in between your legs, a shift of your hips enough to offer you some much needed friction.

"S-Sí." You had tried, at least, to show him that you knew some words yourself.

Hosea chuckled gently, his thumb running over your jaw. "That would be Spanish," he pointed out, though there was no mocking edge to his tone, a breathless laugh leaving your own lips at the realization.

He kissed you once more, squeezing your fingers before getting to his legs, pulling your hips to the edge of the cot. His eyes found yours when he pushed inside, his own lips parting at the feeling of your tight walls around him.

Your legs found their way around his hips, settling there as if it were the only place for them to be, your breaths rattling in your chest. Hosea gave you time to adjust, careful and considerate as always, reaching down between your legs to touch you softly, purposefully keeping his ministrations brief and teasing.

"If only you'd know how good you're feelin'," he muttered, looking down at you as if he beheld a masterpiece, though to him, that was just what you were. "My beautiful darling."

He started moving slowly, rolling his hips for his cock to move deeper into you, drawing back and letting you feel his entire length with the next thrust forward. You moaned, grasping for his hands again to link your fingers, needing something to hold onto when he quickened his pace.

Soon enough, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the tent, possibly filtering through the thin walls as well, though neither of you held much of a care for that. You rocked back against his every movement, getting lost in the ardor surrounding you as your nails dug into the back of his hand. "Hosea–" his name was a mantra upon your lips by now, repeated like a prayer, with every time sounding more desperate than the last.

You were getting close all over again, feeling your orgasm build in your loins, your spine curving in an attempt to receive more friction at your sex. "Please, make me cum." He had to be getting close himself, thrusts turning more hurried and sloppy, his own voice raising in clear enjoyment.

"Of course, my dear," he stuttered only the slightest bit, reaching down to pleasure you as you had wished, angling his hips just right to hit that sweet spot within you. "Go'head," he encouraged, continuously fucking into you as the motions of his hand quickened, intended to drive you over the edge and beyond.

"Je veux vous entendre," he grunted, the sound of his French sending you spiraling out of control, your walls pulsating around him as your orgasm hit you like a train.

You cried out in delight, tossing your head back as he spent himself inside of you, driven to fulfillment by the feeling of you coming around him. He panted, propping his arms up on either side of your head as the pleasant aftershocks raked his body, his cock sporadically twitching inside of you.

Eventually, Hosea pulled out of you, sinking onto the cot by your side, his chest rising and falling as he gradually caught his breath. "Now that wasn't what I had planned for today's lesson."

#hosea x reader #hosea matthews #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #nsft #rdr2 #my writing #requests

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palmett-hoes · 4 years ago

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what's your take on the foxes mbti?

oh buddy ur never gonna believe this but i wrote a foxes MBTI post YEARS ago

im also not into mbti anymore and haven't been for many years so that post is probably still more accurate and in-depth than what i could give you now. i’m just gonna copy the whole thing but i read it over and it still totally vibes w how i understand the characters, like way more than i was expecting it to. i only made one edit (it’s marked) and it was to add a detail not change anything

i hope you’re really really into mbti otherwise this’ll probably be gobbeldegook

i used to be obessively into mbti so here’s an analysis based on cognitive functions mostly.

SKIP IF YOU WANT. for anyone with no idea how it works, here’s a quick rundown: cognitive functions are about the way people think, process, and prioritize information, not necessarily how they act, though people who think the same way often act the same. the 8 letters that make up a type represent how people process and prioritize internal and external stimuli. every letter actually has an ‘internal’ and 'external’ form so there’s Thinking (internal(ti) and external(te)), Feeling (internal(fi) and external(fe)), Sensing (internal(si) and external(se)), and iNtuition(internal(ni) and external(ne)) t’s always go with a corresponding and opposite f (like ti and fe always go together), same with s’s and n’s (ex: si and ne always go together). a set of t, f, s, and n in a specific order makes an mbti type.

neil: intp (ti ne si fe)

neil has incredible analytical ability although it’s very programmed for survival but he’s also a fast thinker and very quick to adapt to new environments. he also approaches things from original angles that other people dont consider, all that sounds like high ti/ne. the lower functions fit well too. in times of stress, he returns to old habits and falls back on what’s familiar, that’s classic low si. his emotions are also very exterior. he’s bad with other people from lack of exposure, but he’s committed to harmony between those close to him and has an impeccable ability to read the emotional states of others while being completely oblivious of his own, and his sense of self is tied to exterior things like exy, friends, keys, and legal documents (lol) that’s fe

andrew: intj (ni te fi se)

ni is really hard to describe but it has to do with being able to draw conclusions from scattered input, which fits with andrew’s uncanny ability to spot lies and obsession with finding out the truth, especially with high te, which is about spatial order and logic, think of how prioritized he is with the physical order of things: who sits where, who wears what, etc. a lot of people want to make andrew infj i bet as like a “subversive reading” but he’s definitely not. i used to be really close to an infj and they have hyper-empathy, as in she would describe not just caring about other people and being able to read their emotional states but literally feeling the things the people around her felt. this is a common result of the ni/fe combo, and the reason why andrew is definitely not infj. tertiary fi fits very well instead because andrew is deeply attuned to his own inner emotional state. he’s self-confident and doesn’t care about other people’s perception of him, but he’s also very concerned with his own feelings and understanding them, even if they’re repressed. he’s also very aware of his physical surroundings, which plays into his deductive ability, although it’s not his focus. that’s low se

kevin: estj (te si ne fi)

kevin is a classic estj. he’s controlling, demanding, and driven. he tries to control the actions of those around him and gets very distressed when things dont run smoothly, as well as having strong feelings about improving efficiency. high te people make great managers. kevin’s whole story arc is about breaking old habits, which is a very si problem. it has to do with trusting and craving memory and familiarity, and explains kevins need for endless repetition. he’s innovative, though, coming up with new strategies and drills (ne), it’s just based on what’s already familiar, and you can see him spiral into creating all possible worst-case scenarios when he’s stressed (low ne stress reaction, they like to be prepared). finally, he’s a dick, but he cares about other people and wants to improve their lives, as well as being very reliant on other people’s perceptions of him to define his own self-image (low fe)

dan: esfj (fe si ne ti)

dan’s top priority, over everything else, is her team. she wants her team to improve, she wants her team to win, she wants her team to work together. it’s all about the collective. we also see that she’s very open with others and makes a lot of effort to both make new ties and maintain old ones, that’s high fe. she’s sentimental and attached to the past too (si) esp the photo wall, but we also see her very unwilling to let go of the past ie the monsters but eventually willing to change and grow to mend team cohesion (ne). we also see the fight in underlying logic (low ti) with her: she knows the team needs the monsters to cooperate but she cant figure out how to do it

matt: enfj (fe ni se ti)

so enfj’s experience infj hyper-empathy too, but to a slightly lesser extent (primary fe is more group cohesion, secondary fe is more understanding others), and through this we see matt’s easy-going open friendliness and ability to befriend even prickly little neil, because he has an extremely good sense of what other people are feeling and need, it also explains why he doesn’t hold a grudge against the cousins in the same way dan does, because he understands where they were coming from. se is associated with a general boisterousness for life, as it’s about experiencing the world around you, which explains matt’s happy-go-lucky disposition and puppydog behavior. the ti aspects mostly go into supporting fe/ni empathic senses

allison: entj (te ni se fi)

i mean, allison’s controlling, both in that she orders other people around and in that her physical being and space are very planned and organized (her clothes, her hair, her makeup, etc) but at the same time there isn’t much sentimentality to her, like how she doesn’t care when her car was destroyed. she easily replaces things because she cares about the object’s purpose, not its history and that all smacks of high te/ni. and i mean, the se definitely contributes to her love of designer things and killer looks, because she cares about the world immediately around her, and why live if not in luxury? and fi? is there any character more aggressively self-confident than allison reynolds?? going against her parents’ wishes for her takes a really strong, independent sense of self, but we also see the problems that can come from not worrying about other people, in how she starts fights and can be abrasive and catty

renee: infp (fi ne si te)

okay this one was really hard tbh. a list of other considerations: isfp, istp, and infj. it’s very easy to read renee as high fe because she’s kind, but i think it’s a mischaracteration of why she’s kind. it’s not because it comes naturally to her, it’s because it’s a conscious choice that makes her feel better about herself. high fi people often read as fe because they’re so comfortable with themselves and in tune with their own needs that they can then go and provide for others. i associate her religion with ne, because contemplation and acceptance of the divine later in life is a very metaphysical undertaking that undoubtedly requires a lot of abstract thought. renee’s storyline also revolves a lot around using things from her past and putting a conscious effort into leaving things from her past behind (how she still uses the skills she learned from her past in new ways ie sparring with andrew and protecting the upperclassmen v/s how she held on to her knives even when she knew it was detrimental to her moving on) this sounds like si. her protective instincts also feed into the te need for order, but it’s a looser leash than say andrew, as it’s lower on her function stack but still present

nicky: esfp (se fi te ni)

godd nicky is like a prototypical esfp. i mean nicholas “sex, drugs, and parties” hemmick cant be anything but se dominant. nicky is all about living it up and living in the moment. like he’s sporadic and ive seen it lead people to think he could be enfp but he doesn’t think enough about the meaning of things to be ne dominant (like how he makes somewhat predatory jokes and such, he’s all about the here-and-now while ne is about the past and future simultaneously). also he of all characters has incredibly prominent fi, as his whole character is about living unashamedly as himself as a gay man and the immense self-awareness and inner strength it takes not only to come out to unaccepting parents but also to leave and start a new life when they rejected him. however, fi is also indicative of his communication problems with his family, as he’s unable to tell that the cousins are fundamentally different from him in their needs and boundaries, leading him to pushing them, making them uncomfortable, and being unable to help them, because he’s unable to understand them. the rest are much more hidden, but a party boy shopaholic like nicky would probably need some amount of te order in like an organized chaos fashion (and he’s often headcanoned as liking to throw parties) and you do see him become somewhat pushy, even controlling in those scenarios. ni is the hardest but could maybe be seen in how he’s attuned to the cousins reactions for all that he cant predict them/doesn’t do anything on his own part to prevent them (the way he handles andrew is like if someone poked a rattlesnake knowing damn well what it would do and then freaked out when he got bit)

aaron: istj (si te fi ne)

im a little iffy on this one and worry it might be an analysis based on his trauma instead of complimentary to it, but aaron’s arc is about breaking out of his habit of holding on to the past. he refuses to work towards moving on from his mother’s death, refuses to listen to things that contradict his preconceived notions, and refuses to make changes in his life that could improve it. that’s unhealthy si. he’s really a very unhealthy istj, and most of his traits manifest through his unhappiness with his life. take his te. that would imply that he needs control over his surroundings, but aaron is incredibly bitter and unhappy BECAUSE he doesn’t have control of his surroundings. he doesn’t get to make his own choices, he doesn’t get to control his space, and he hates it. his relationship with katelyn is also indicative of being an istj. it’s stable, not a passionate fling, but aaron is mocked for wanting that white picket fence, married with kids in the suburbs kind of life, and his relationship, which is his primary source of happiness, is built on stability, which is a very si thing to do. in terms of fi, it is aaron that ultimately forces change between himself and andrew. he may have been pushed but he ultimately came down to him knowing what made him happy and what made him miserable and acting on that. also, he’s an ornery asshole who clearly doesn’t care what other people think of him. fi. i dont really have anything to say in terms of ne, probably because he’s so unhealthy but also because he’s not too explored. heyy istj’s make great doctors

wymack: isfj (si fe ti ne)

okay this one was genuinely the hardest to decide on but ultimately i came to the conclusion that wymack, much like renee, is such a developed person that he loses many defining traits of the functions, and can be read in many different ways. so: wymack’s primary goal is the safety and betterment of other people (ie his team). he wants to help people overcome their pasts, which is a very atypical approach to si, but is si nonetheless. on a personal level, too, he’s never able to move on from people, and specifically never moved on from kayleigh, continuing their shared dream of an exy team for abused kids long after her death. as ive said before, fe in a secondary position is about deep understanding of other people, and wymack’s ability to understand what other people are struggling through is legendary. the ti mostly serves as support to the fe, serving as the analytical backup in allowing him to understand others. as for ne: he is most definitely an innovator with unusual ideas, or the foxes wouldn’t exist

riko: estp (se ti fe ni)

riko is basically what happens when an estp goes bad down to the core. he’s obsessed with personal glory and immediate self-fulfillment (se) he has no impulse control or fear of consequences. interestingly, high se is often associated with athleticism, because high se people are intensly focused on their surroundings (exy). his ti is also super unhealthy as he gets obsessed with ideas that dont really work with objective reality, like his obsession with ownership and power dynamics despite them not actually being efficient, even backwards. the tertiary fe he uses to manipulate. he doesn’t empathize with others, but he can tell their emotional state and what’s important to them, and uses it to coerce them and destroy their sense of self, like how he knew he could get neil to the nest by threatening andrew. EDIT: /additionally, fe people especially in the lower half of the function stack tend to derive their sense of self from the perceptions of others around them, which riko very much shows in how he needs to be acknowledged as the best and won’t allow any competition for his title, as well as his desperation for acknowledgement from his family/. finally, that ni allowed him to keep multiple plans in place focused on one ultimate goal: getting kevin back. the sheer amount of schemes he sets up in order to fool and push people the way he wants is honestly kinda impressive, but he’s a toxic shithead and im glad he’s rotting. definitely not representative of all estp’s

this is honestly SO funny to read back a few years later bc HOOOOO boy was i way too into this stuff. and this was written a couple years after my Peak MBTI Obsession, which was honestly scary

#txt #the foxes #dan wilds #kevin day #andrew minyard #matt boyd #aaron minyard #allison reynolds #nicky hemmick #renee walker #neil josten #wymack #riko moriyama #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous

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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago

Text

The Ranch {14}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

The Ranch Masterlist

When Cassian woke up the next morning, Nesta was gone. She was probably off doing one of the many things on her ridiculously long list, and it was probably wise that she left before he woke up because he would’ve tried to guilt her into staying again.

He’d slept well, but the meds had definitely worn off. He popped a pill into his mouth and washed it down with a water bottle before pulling himself out of bed and hauling himself into the bathroom.

He looked in the mirror and groaned. He looked like shit, which wasn’t a surprise cause he felt like shit. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, all one handed, and then came his hair.

After a couple of attempts - way more than he was willing to admit - it was tied at the back of his head, but now came the part he definitely could not do on his own. He tossed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt on the bed, followed by some socks. Getting his sweats off was no problem, but as he tried to step into his jeans, stumbling, he sighed and sat down on the bed.

“Grown ass man and I have to sit down to put my pants on,” he mumbled, doing just that. He went ahead and put the socks on, then stood and glared at the shirt, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to put that one on by himself. He grabbed it, tossing it over his shoulder. He sighed, imagining how hard Nesta was going to laugh when he had to ask her to help him get dressed. At least he’d get to see that look she gets whenever she saw his abs. Cassian whistled, slipping his phone into his pocket and heading into the living room. No sign of Beau.

Stepping into his boots, he muttered, “Damn woman even has my dog wrapped around her finger.”

He stepped out onto the porch, sun on his bare chest, and made his way up to the main house. He’d go down and get some stuff from his cabin that afternoon, and take the truck to check on the herd, but he’d take it easy. Doctor’s orders.

He climbed the back steps and entered the kitchen. Nesta wasn’t there, which he was half hoping, as he was starving, but he could hear her talking in the living room.

He walked towards the front of the house, saying, “Baby, I need you to gimme a hand.”

He entered the room and found Nesta sitting on the couch, pen and paper in hand. Her back was to him so she was turned around to stare at him, eyes wide in horror. There was a young woman with red hair sitting on the other end, mouth hanging open.

Nesta quickly got to her feet. “Maggie, this is Cassian. Cassian, this is Maggie, she’s here to talk about helping out with the B&B.”

Cassian’s ears burned. “Nice to meet you. Nesta, can we…” He trailed off and pointed to the kitchen.

She said, “Yes, absolutely. Maggie, I’m so sorry, I’ll be right back.��

He headed into the kitchen and she followed him. Cass kept his voice low as he said, “You never told me you had any inquiries, you just posted the ad yesterday.”

“I know, but Maggie called this morning, and was available to talk right away, so I told her to head on over.” Nesta paused and added, “Wait, I texted you all of this.”

Cassian pulled out his phone and looked down at the screen. Indeed, he did have a slew of notifications, with no less than four text messages from Boss. He winced. “My bad, sweetheart.”

Nesta rolled her eyes at his stupid contact name for her and said, “It’s okay.” She raised up on her toes and kissed him. “How’d you sleep?”

“Hard. I don’t remember waking up all night. Hurting this morning though. I took my meds, I wanted to run down and take a look at the herd. And I’m not gonna do anything, so get that look off of your face,” he added, seeing her eyebrows already raising. “I just won’t be able to take it easy until I see with my own two eyes that they're taken care of. But because I’m such a hero and I took a bullet for my best friend, I’m having trouble putting my shirt on. Think I can get some help?”

She let her forehead fall into her hand. “Oh my god, why do I love you?”

He laughed and said, “I love you, too.”

After he sat in one of the chairs, she helped him get the sling off. She awkwardly pulled the shirt on him, one arm at a time and then over his head. “Rhys said he’d come over after lunch to clean that for you,” Nesta said, helping him refasten the sling around his neck and Cass nodded, grateful he had a friend who was not only able to help out but also willing. “Oh, and the new ranch hand is out feeding the horses, if you want to go introduce yourself.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek and started to walk back to the living room.

He was on his feet instantly. “The new- you hired a ranch hand? Without me? Shouldn’t I have been a part of this?”

She looked at him over her shoulder and said “It’s my ranch, and I think you’ll find I made a great decision.” She winked and he heard her talking with Maggie once again.

Cassian was still sitting dumbfounded in the kitchen. He was tempted to yell WHAT THE FUCK but figured Maggie was a nice, young girl who didn’t need to be corrupted with his shocked curses.

“Damn you woman,” he muttered, pulling himself to a standing position and heading out the back door. The meds were finally starting to kick in as he stumbled down the porch steps and into his truck.

After starting the engine, he headed down to the stables. Sure enough, a tall figure dressed in jeans, an old tee shirt, and a backwards ball cap was leaned up against the fence outside of the stables, watching the horses meander about in the pasture.

Cassian threw open the door and got out, slamming it behind him, but the second the man turned around, all weariness and frustration Cassian had from Nesta hiring a ranch hand without him faded away.

He halted, a few feet away from the fence. After blinking a few times, he asked, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Azriel chuckled and said, “I thought she was kidding when she said she hadn’t told you.”

Cassian was staring at his brother not knowing how to respond to that. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

Az shook his head. “I decided the dealership wasn’t a good fit. I thought I liked the mechanical side of ranching, but I was wrong. Elain was texting with Nesta last night and she mentioned y’all could use a hand around here, so.” He lifted his arms and indicated himself. “Here I am.”

“You’re the new ranch hand,” Cassian said, slowly, as if he still didn’t believe the words.

“Seem to be,” Azriel said.

“Here? At this ranch?”

“Unless I’m at the wrong one,” Azriel said, laughing.

Cassian’s mouth broke into a slow grin. “You know this means that you’re, like, my assistant, right?”

Azriel was shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Fuck yeah,” Cassian grinned. The smile on his face matched the relief he felt inside.

He and Azriel hopped in the truck and went out into the back pasture, making sure nothing looked out of the ordinary.

“So,” Cass began. “Woke up to a visit from the cops yesterday morning.”

Azriel raised his eyebrows. “They came here? They didn’t just call?”

Cassian shook his head. “Nope, damn near gave Nes a heart attack. Asked all the generic questions, tried to make this about one of us instead of about Tamlin being a jealous piece of shit with a grudge.”

“I assume you’ll be testifying, too?” Azriel asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, Monday. Are you?”

“Yeah, since I’m the one who took off after him, they need me to recreate my steps for the jury.” Azriel rolled his eyes. “As if us and everyone at that wedding didn’t hear what he said, as if there’s any defense for him.”

Cassian shrugged, wincing slightly. “If it gets him locked up for longer, I’m on board.”

Az looked at his oldest friend. “How are you?”

“Sore,” Cassian said, and when Azriel snorted, Cassian went on. “Looks worse than it is. Nesta worries too much.”

Azriel blinked. “You got a bullet half an inch from your heart, Cass.”

“That’s what I keep hearing,” he mumbled. “I can’t just sit on my ass all day, though, I’d lose my shit. I’m already losing my shit.” Az just stared at him. “Look, I’m gonna be taking it easy, but I can’t just do nothing. You know how I am. But I’m trying for Nesta and for the baby.”

“God, that’s still…insane.” Azriel took his hat off and ran a hand through it. “You’re gonna be a dad. Good luck.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cassian looked at him from the side.

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember what we were like as children?”

Cass looked around them, at the land, the animals, the buildings on the property. “Oh gods, there’s way too many things for them to destroy.”

Azriel laughed. “You’ll be fine, man.” He gently rested his hand on Cassian’s good shoulder. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks.” Cass smiled. “So when the hell are you going to make an honest woman out of Elain? Or, are you gonna knock her up, too?”

Azriel groaned, covering his face. “Nesta’s not even been pregnant a week and Elain is asking when I want to have babies.”

“Elain would be a great mom,” Cassian countered.

“True,” Azriel agreed, “but I'm okay with waiting. For a while. A long time. Years.”

Cassian chuckled. “Years?”

“I haven’t even asked her to marry me yet,” Azriel said, as if that answered everything.

“But you’re going to,” Cassian said, and before Azriel could respond, he went on, “And if you don’t, I’m asking for you, because she’s a peach.”

Azriel gave him a rare, full-fledged grin. “She’s perfect.”

“So, you’re asking soon, then?” Cassian asked.

Azriel groaned, once more. “Is this what working with you is going to be like? You constantly butting into my personal life?”

Cassian blinked, then slowly looked over at Azriel. “It’s my job to be the center of your personal life.”

“The center?” Azriel asked, brows raised.

“Obviously,” Cassian said. “There’s Elain, and me, and Rhys. We are the center of your world, so I must know what’s going on with the other two involved, obviously.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Azriel said, shaking his head, but he was still smiling, so Cassian figured he was doing his job well.

He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of my pregnant girlfriend, it’s lunchtime, I’m starving and she’s literally a gourmet chef. So let’s go.”

Azriel laughed. “Alright, I’ll drive. You’re not supposed to and you know it.”

Cass didn’t deny it.

When they pulled up in front of the house, Nesta was on the front porch, standing on a ladder and watering a plant hanging from the ceiling. Cassian was instantly out of the cab. “Babe, be careful.”

“I swear to the Cauldron, if you spend the next seven months telling me to be careful, I’m going to lose my shit.”

“And what does that entail?” Cassian asked. “Losing your shit?”

“Kicking you in the ass,” Nesta said, “Obviously.”

Cassian scoffed. “And you would do that? To someone who's just been shot?”

Nesta rolled her eyes then looked to Azriel. “Can you control him?”

“That’s your job now,” Azriel said.

“Can’t argue with that,” she sighed, climbing down the ladder. “You guys hungry? Lunch is going to be ready soon.”

Cass winked at Az and said, “We could eat. Anything we can work on for you while you’re cooking?”

She turned and looked at him. “Are you trying to trick me into letting you work?”

Cassian raised his good hand in defense. “No, of course not, just offering.”

Nesta rolled her eyes again. “Come on.”

The men followed Nesta in and into the kitchen.

Azriel took a deep breath and groaned. “Smells so good, Nes.”

“Five cheese lasagna, salad and garlic bread.” She said it so matter-of-factly and not like it was a dish that used to be sold at a five-star restaurant.

Azriel whistled. “You made all that for lunch?”

“We eat good around here,” Cassian said, sitting in a chair at the table.

Nesta chuckled as she pulled the lasagna out of the oven, where it was keeping warm. She continued to take out a few plates and filled them for the three of them.

“No nausea today?” Cassian asked.

Nesta shrugged, cutting up the lasagna. “I was, but then the baby started craving lasagna, so here we are.”

“The baby has good taste,” Azriel muttered.

Cassian was quick to agree.

They sat down and ate. Nesta explained to the guys what she wanted done before the opening and Cass ran through his daily tasks with Az. The three of them knew there would be no issue, but it was good to go ahead and start fresh.

“So later on, when you get to the weird part of your pregnancy,” Azriel began, while Nesta loaded their plates into the dishwasher. “When you have random cravings, are you going to make crazy concoctions or just go straight for the pickles and ice cream?”

She laughed. “I don’t know, but I hope it’s easy. So far, I’ve been craving food from other regions that aren’t so easy to make. I don’t exactly want to have to ask Cassian to make me tarte tatin at three in the morning.”

Cassian was eating his second helping and with his mouth full said, “Me either, cause I have no idea what the hell that is.”

Nesta laughed, looking at him over her shoulder. “How did I end up with you?”

He shrugged, stuffing his mouth full with another bite. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Nesta just shook her head as she explained, “It’s a pastry.”

Cassian blinked, swallowing his food. “I like pastries. I could learn to make a pastry.”

Nesta closed the dishwasher and leaned back against the counter as she looked at Cassian. “The day I see you working in a kitchen is the day that the world ends.”

“Challenge accepted,” he muttered, mouth full of food, once more.

Azriel blinked, shaking his head as he watched Cassian stuff his face. “You really are a slob.”

“Fuck you,” he said, after a drink of water.

Azriel stood, ruffling his hair, and said, “No, thanks, bud. I’m gonna run into town and go pick up my pressure washer. I’m gonna take care of the stables.”

Nesta turned. “Az, no, you don’t have to do-.”

He stopped by her at the counter. “I do. You two have been through enough. Consider it my hazing so this asshole doesn’t do something worse when he’s back in action.” He hooked a thumb back at Cassian.

“Fuck you,” Cass repeated, though this time he was laughing, as he carried his plate to the sink. “I had something planned too.”

Ignoring him, Nesta said, “Thank you, Az. That means so much.”

She hugged him and he said, “That’s what family does, they help each other out. My brother and sister need me. That’s what I’m here to do.” He stepped back and looked at Cass. “I would hug you, but I genuinely don’t know how to do that without hurting you, so…” He shot him finger guns and then he was out the door.

Cass chuckled, shaking his head. “For someone so smart, he’s such a dumbass.”

Nesta laughed. Azriel was the only one of the three of them that she’d remotely remembered. He was an honors student, like she’d been, and they’d shared classes, but likewise to Nesta, Az kept to himself as well. It wasn’t until a drunken night at Rita’s, when Azriel was telling the story of the one time he’d been caught cheating, and Nesta realized it was her test he’d been cheating off of.

An almost sibling like bond was born between them that night and Nesta was glad she was getting to know him better. It let her know that Elain was in good hands.

“Alright,” Cassian sighed, looking at Nesta. “What can I do?”

“Relax,” Nesta ordered.

“I don’t want to relax,” he shot back. “I want to feel useful. Make me feel useful.”

“Be useful while relaxing,” she said, leaving the kitchen.

He followed close behind. “Babe, I need a job. Okay? Any job will do.”

“You’ve only been resting for a day,” Nesta said, laughing, making her way back out to the front porch.

“My pain meds work great,” he argued. “Let me help. Please.”

“You’re not going to give up, are you?” she asked, looking at her line up of hanging plants.

“No. I’m going to annoy the shit out of you, so you may as well let me help,” he said, staring her down.

She turned to meet his gaze, then rolled her eyes. “Fine. Hand me plants.”

Cassian blinked. “That’s my job? Handing you plants?”

“I’m going up on the ladder and it will help if you hand them to me,” Nesta shot back, arms crossed. “Or, you can go back to relaxing.”

Cassian took a deep breath. “Handing you plants, it is.”

One after one, Cassian picked the plants up and handed them to her, and she packed each into soil.

“So,” he began, doing his best not to stare at her ass. “I know you never thought you’d be in this situation, but are there any names you like?”

“Any names?” she repeated, making sure the plant was perfect before climbing back down the ladder and moving it to the next spot.

Cassian snorted. “For the baby.”

Nesta thought about it for a moment as she climbed up the ladder, once more. “I have a list.”

“A long list?” Cassian asked, handing her another hanging plant pot.

“A decent list,” she said, chuckling, taking the plant from him and hanging it up from the hook. She asked for the watering can.

“What’s your number one name?” he asked. “If it’s a boy.”

“I’ve always loved the name Jameson,” she said, watering the plant and climbing back down.

“Jameson,” Cassian mused. “I like Jameson.”

Nesta wrapped her arms around Cassian’s waist. “What about you? Any family names?”

His eyes dimmed slightly. “I don’t have anyone I would name him after.”

Nesta breathed, “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I- shit, I’m sorry.”

He smiled and kissed her. “I promise it’s fine. I actually do have one name I like though.”

“Yeah?” She asked. “What’s that?”

He brushed her hair back and said, “Isaac.” Nesta’s eyes welled up with tears. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, closing her eyes and carefully resting her head on his chest. “Isaac Jameson Nazari.”

Cassian blinked. “You… You want to give him my last name?”

“Of course,” Nesta said, “You’re his father.”

“I just…” Cassian began, but his words fell short. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

Nesta smiled, her hand resting softly against his cheek as she said, “We’re going to be a family, right?”

“Yes,” Cassian breathed.

“Then this baby, no matter it’s gender, or it’s name, will be a Nazari,” she whispered.

Cassian took a deep breath. “If you make me cry, I won’t feel bad about kicking your ass.”

She laughed and leaned up on her toes and kissed him softly. “I love you, more than I can explain.”

“I love you, too.” Cass wrapped his good arm around her waist and tried to lift her to set her on the porch railing. It was way more convenient to kiss her when her lips were at his level.

“No, no, no.” Nesta pushed against him. “Don’t you dare.”

“It’s fine, you’re light, babe.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can lift you with one arm or two.”

A car door slammed and Rhys said, “Didn’t the doctor tell you two no exciting activities yet?”

Cassian smirked and said, “Sorry, man, she just can’t keep her hands off of me.”

“Oh, shut up,” she laughed, shoving him lightly and moving the ladder down. This time, she carried the carton of small plants up with her.

Rhys made his way up the steps, still in his scrubs. “Cass, really, dude, what the hell are you doing out of bed?”

He shrugged. “I’m taking it easy.”

“Taking it easy means playing Call of Duty from your bed until I say so.” Rhys was using his doctor voice, which meant he was serious. “Seriously, this is your heart we’re talking about here. You’re lucky to be alive. Do you know how easy it is to tweak something just wrong and pop a stitch, especially this early in the healing process?”

Cassian looked to Nesta for support, but she was positioning the flowers in her pot, ignoring them. He was on his own. “Uh, no?”

Rhys called over his shoulder. “I’m taking him home.”

“Then take him upstairs.” Nesta didn’t look away as she sprinkled potting soil in. “We’ll be staying here for the foreseeable future.”

Rhys and Cass spoke at the same time. “What?”

“I have a lot of work to do for the opening,” Nesta said, simply. “Which means I’ll be here all the time, anyway. The master bedroom isn’t open for guests, so we’re going to stay in there. That way, I’ll be close all day if you need me.”

“I won’t-.” Cassian began, but he was soon cut off.

“That’s a good idea,” Rhysand said, voice firm. “Seriously, Cass, you have to rest-.”

“Okay, okay, alright,” Cassian said, hating every second of this.

“Shall I carry you upstairs?” Rhysand asked.

Nesta snorted from where she was on the ladder.

“I’ll go lie on the couch,” Cassian muttered, opening the front door and slumping inside.

It was his worst nightmare: staying still for extended periods of time.

“Get a towel,” Rhys called. “This is going to be gross.”

Nesta was shaking her head. “Please don’t get blood on my brand new furniture.”

Rhys was chuckling as he went inside. “That all depends on how much of a baby he’s about to be.”

It turns out, Cassian was the biggest baby of all.

“That fucking burns, don’t touch me with with it.”

Rhys sighed again. “It’s going to burn, its peroxide. See how this is bubbling? I have to clean it.

“No, I can’t see it,” Cassian bit back. “It’s in my chest and I’m laying on the damn couch.”

Rhysand stopped what he was doing to glare at Cassian. “I’m so fucking close to sedating you, Cass. Be still.”

“I don’t wanna be still.”

“You’re acting like a child,” Rhysand muttered, continuing to clean the wound.

“Does that mean I get a sucker when we’re done?” Cassian asked. Rhysand couldn’t help but laugh. “I’d also accept a glass of whiskey. Which I should’ve had before we started this shit.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be sure to put a nipple on it so you can have your bottle before bed.”

Cassian smirked. “The only nipples I want before bed are-.”

Nesta’s feet could be heard on the porch before she rushed in through the front door, heading for the bathroom, hand clamped over her mouth. The door slammed shut and the sound of violent retching filled the living room.

“And that’s what got you in this situation,” Rhys said, indicating the bathroom. “Don’t move, I need to cover this before you sit up.”

Cassian grumbled and Rhys moved to the door, softly knocking. “You okay, Nes?”

He heard sniffling and she said, “I’m fine. Just need a minute.”

“Want a bottled water?” He asked.

There was a short pause. “Please.”

He passed into the kitchen and returned a second later, water bottle in hand. He jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. When it opened a few seconds later, Nesta’s hand snuck out, took the bottle from him, then the door was closed, once more.

Rhysand returned to Cassian to cover the newly cleaned wound.

“Is this a daily occurrence?” Rhysand asked, and he knew he was talking about Nesta, not Cassian’s need for whiskey and hatred of peroxide.

“Yeah, changes by the hour,” Cassian said. “She was feeling great at lunch.”

Rhysand hummed before stepping back. “There. Done. Now, I’m coming back tomorrow at this time, and if you’re not relaxing, I’m going to kick your ass. Got it?”

Cassian rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. Nesta opened the bathroom door, then, her eyes red and misty. Rhysand excused himself to the kitchen to wash his hands.

Nesta groaned, sitting on the edge of the couch next to where Cassian was lying. He rubbed her back, gently. “Feel better?”

“No,” she moaned, lying her head on the arm of the couch. “And I don’t think I’ll be eating lasagna for a while.”

Cass sat up. Without his arm in the sling, he definitely felt the pressure in his chest and shoulder, but he could actually do things for himself. He crouched in front of her and took both of her hands in his face. “Can I do anything?”

She shook her head, and her face scrunched up. He could tell she was trying her hardest not to start crying again.

“Why don’t you go lay down for a few minutes, sweetheart?” He asked, brushing her hair behind her ear.

She protested. “I can’t, I have so much to do-.”

“And a thirty minute nap won’t be the make or break on whether or not it all gets done,” Cassian said, wiping away the tear that slipped down her cheek. “You’re just going to burn yourself out and that’s no good for you or the baby.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Just for a little bit.”

He kissed her forehead and stood, helping her to her feet. She headed up the stairs and Cass sat back on the couch.

Rhys came back in the room. “Make sure you wear that sling.”

Cassian chuckled. “No promises, but I’ll try my absolute hardest.”

Rhysand stared at him for a minute before saying, “Liar.”

Then he was gone, after bringing Cassian his promised glass of whiskey.

He debated on hauling himself up the stairs after Nesta, but he figured that would only earn him a scolding, so he remained where he was, sipping on his glass of whiskey.

Two minutes went by before he was about ready to lose his shit.

He begrudgingly put the sling back on and got up, making a lap or two around the house. He needed something to do, anything, or he was going to do something that would get him trouble. Granted everything got him in trouble these days.

His phone began to buzz in his pocket and he pulled it out, seeing a repeating alarm going off.

Take your meds!

It was punctuated by a kiss emoji and Cassian sighed. That woman was too good to him.

He lumbered down to the house, finding Beau snoozing on the couch. “You seem to be enjoying our time off, huh?” He gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and made his way back to the bedroom.

He retrieved the black duffle he’d stashed under the bed and began stuffing clothes and everything else he’d need up at the main house in it. He popped one of the pills in his mouth, chasing it with a swig from the bottled water on the nightstand and tossed the pills into his bag.

He debated on packing some of Nesta’s things, but knew he’d likely grab the wrong things and decided to let her pack on her own.own.

With the bag slung over his shoulder, Cassian, Beau at his side, trailed back up to the main house.

He wanted to do something special for Nesta. She had to be overly stressed, newly pregnant, opening a B&B, her boyfriend getting shot.

With a sigh, he pulled open the back door of the main house and dropped his bag before pulling out his phone and dialing Azriel’s number.

He answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Whatcha doing?” Cassian asked.

Azriel huffed a laugh. “Bored?”

“I need to go into town and was hoping you could drive me,” he said. “Or, I could drive myself-“

“Let me finish shoveling this shit and I’ll be there,” Azriel promised. “If you get behind the wheel Nesta would never forgive me.”

Az hung up and Cassian sighed. “Sick of being treated like a misbehaving teenager.”

Thirty minutes later, Azriel’s truck pulled up behind the house. When he came inside, he found Cassian balancing dishes, condiments, silverware, cups and other things from the kitchen cabinets and drawers in a tower. Cassian glanced up. “Thank the Cauldron, lets go.”

He stood and headed for the door. Azriel hesitated. “Shouldn’t you put all that away?”

He glanced back at his creation and waved it off. “Nah, Nesta’s reaction will be funnier.”

Azriel just shook his head. “You knock her up, get shot, and now you want to give the woman a heart attack?”

“She’ll laugh,” Cassian protested, stepping out of the back door. “Eventually.”

Azriel hesitated for another second before following his friend.

They hauled themselves into the truck and pulled out onto the street, toward town.

“Where am I driving you?” Azriel asked, one arm hanging out the window.

“Flower shop,” Cassian said. “Jewelry shop.”

Azriel looked at him with a lifted brow.

“For a necklace or something,” Cassian clarified. “Something to wear to the opening celebration.”

“You sure you’re not making an honest woman out of her?” He asked, keeping an eye on the road.

He’d thought about it, but he knew what her answer would be. He also knew that he didn’t want to ask her just because she was having his baby. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, but he wanted to make sure she knew he was asking her for the right reason, not the obvious one.

“Not yet.” He could have left it at that, but he knew Az would have continued to ask questions. “You know I like to do things out of order.”

Azriel chuckled and said, “Well, you’re not wrong.”

“Sex, then first date, then knocked her up….but, marriage? That’s a bit down the road,” Cassian said.

Azriel grinned. “Fair enough.”

He pulled up on the curb in the little downtown strip and Cassian got out, heading straight to the florist shop. He picked out a giant bouquet of yellow roses and a vase that Cassian thought was fancy enough before putting it in the truck, and walking across the street, into the jewelry store.

A little old lady stood behind the counter and smiled brightly as Cassian entered. “Well, hello young man, how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for a necklace,” Cassian said, then added, “A nice one.”

The sweet little old lady chuckled and nodded, slowly walking to the opposite side of the counter she was standing behind. “Well, let’s take a look, then.”

She brought him over to a case that was filled with the most gorgeous necklaces imaginable. There were shining stones of every color glinting in the light, some with long, heavy chains, some that were fitted closer to the neck.

They were beautiful, yes, but they were so...ostentatious. He laughed at himself for even thinking of the word, knowing he’d picked it up from one of the SAT word search books Nesta had left at his cabin. And these necklaces were exactly that. They were too much.

He spied a price tag that had come out from behind the fabric covered stand it hung on and Cassian used another one of Nesta’s SAT words.

That was an egregious number of zeros.

“I think, uh…” Cassian scratched at the back of his neck and sighed. “Look, ma’am-.”

“My name is Miriam,” she said, interrupting him. “None of that, ma’am business. Makes me feel old.”

He chuckled, but smiled, warmly. “Look, Miss Miriam, I’ll be completely honest with you. I’m wanting to get a present for my girlfriend. It’s been a rough couple weeks and I’d like to cheer her up. But I don’t exactly have a lot of money, I’m a ranch hand and I’m technically out of work, thanks to my injury.”

Her kind eyes were worried as she said, “Oh no, what happened?”

He laughed and said, “To my shoulder or why has it been a rough few weeks?”

“Well, both.” Her answer was blunt, but her tone caught Cass off guard.

Her concern seemed genuine, but he chuckled and said, “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.” She smiled, warmly.

Cassian sighed. “She’s opening up a bed and breakfast she inherited from her father in a few weeks. If that wasn’t stressful enough, I just got shot by her sister’s psychotic ex at her wedding to my best friend and then we found out she’s pregnant when she passed out while I was in surgery. Now, one of my other best friends has had to quit his job to come be the ranch hand on said B&B, where I work, so yes, technically, she is my boss, to run the ranch in my place. All the while, she’s having the worst morning sickness and we were told she would never conceive, so we’re a little overwhelmed by all of this.”

Miriam blinked, speechless. “Oh, my… That was quite a long story.”

Cassian sucked on his teeth and rocked back on his heels. “Yep.”

Miriam asked, “What’s her name?”

“Nesta.” He even loves the way her name sounded from his own mouth.

She turned and was heading back behind the counter she’d first been behind when he arrived. “And your Nesta, is she more of a sweet, kind spirit or a firey lady in charge?”

He followed, and thought on the question, deciding to answer honestly. “She’s both.”

She lifted a small, locked case onto the glass top. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

She unlocked the box and opened the top.

A simple, elegant strand of pearls sat inside the velvet lining, and a lone pear-shaped diamond hung from the center. It was the single most beautiful piece of jewelry he’d ever seen.

He said, “Miriam, it’s beautiful, but I can’t afford-.”

“You’ll take it, and you won’t pay me a dime. It’s my gift to you, to give to her.”

Cassian forgot how to speak.

He forgot what the English language was.

He was actually in a coma from the gunshot and was having some sort of fever dream.

Those were the only reasons he could think of that a complete stranger would have just said that to him.

“I- Excuse me?”

She gently closed the lid and locked it again, placing the key on top and slid it across to him. “Before you try to tell me no, I need to tell you something.” She pauses and Cassian said nothing, giving her the chance. She smiled softly. “This jewelry store is all that I have left. My husband died just a few years ago. Our friends have all passed and it’s just me now. My husband and I never had the opportunity to have children, so our legacy will not live on. And I have no one to pass the things I love down to.”

Cassian could see her eyes getting misty, but he wouldn’t dare interrupt her.

“This necklace was a gift from Drakon when he returned from the war. I’ve held onto it for years, even as I’ve begun to give things away to strangers and to the missions. But I could never bring myself to sell my necklace. What price could I put on something that meant so much to me? So I want you to take this. Not only as a gift to Nesta, but as a gift to me. Pass this on to your baby, please.”

Cassian cleared his throat as his vision blurred. “I, uh, thank you.” A small laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “Truly. Thank you. I wish there was a word greater than thank you, but that’s all I can think of.”

Miriam laughed, quietly, and reached across the counter to pat his hand. “You’re so very welcome. Now, take that home to your girlfriend and have a damn happy life.”

Cassian grinned as he nodded, slowly. “Yes, ma’am.”

After telling her thank you, once more, and saying goodbye at least a dozen times, Cassian took the necklace back across the street and into the truck, where Azriel was waiting, sipping on lemonade.

He looked over at Cassian and blinked. “Are you crying?”

“No,” Cassian said, although he was pretty sure he was.

“Lair,” Azriel said. “You gonna let me see what you picked.”

Cassian looked down at the box, then unlocked it, and opened it up.

Azriel blinked, eyes going wide in surprise. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, slowly.

Azriel opened his mouth, then shut it, then said, again, “Holy shit.”

“She just gave it to me,” Cassian said.

Azriel looked up at him as if he had lost his mind.

“I’m serious,” Cassian said, laughing quietly. “I still can’t believe it. It’s a long story.”

“Well,” Azriel said, starting up the truck. “You’re going to make us all look bad, Rhys and I.”

“That’s the plan,” Cassian grinned, then looked back down at the necklace with a soft smile, reeling in how lucky and blessed he was.

But then he got a text. What the fuck have you done in my kitchen and where the hell are you?

He cleared his throat. “Okay, time to get home, Nesta didn’t think my kitchen installation was funny.”

Azriel started laughing and said, “Oh, no, I’m gonna take the back roads.”

Cassian looked over at his friend. “Uh, no, you’re gonna haul ass home.”

“Uh, no, I’m going to slowly drive you home, then go home to Elain,” Azriel said, grinning uncontrollably.

“I hate you,” Cassian said, quietly.

Azriel shrugged. “I suggested you take it all down before we left.”

“I still think it’s pretty funny,” Cassian said, trying to keep his voice light.

“Apparently you’re the only one,” Azriel said, but he was still grinning.

~~~~~

On my way home. Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

Nesta read the text with a scowl.

A second one came in. I’m with Az. Don’t worry.

It didn’t ease her anxiety. She once again stared at the “masterpiece” he left in the kitchen.

She was in love with an overgrown child.

With no hesitation, she began unstacking her dishes, spices, and other kitchen utensils. She was bumping the silverware drawer closed with a hip when Cassian’s boots began thumping up the front steps. She leaned against the island and waited for him to make his appearance.

When he did, carrying the biggest bouquet of yellow roses she’d ever seen, she melted. “What did you- Where did- Cassian…”

He set the vase on the counter, the heavy thus indicating it was as heavy as it seemed. “I wanted to do something to make you smile.”

And he’d succeeded, the grin on her face bright enough to blind him. Though the smile faltered when she saw the velvety box still in his hand.

“And…” he continued, holding out the box.

Nesta just stared at it. “Cass..”

“Just take it,” he said, eyes bright.

“It’s too much,” she whispered.

Cassian chuckled. “You haven’t even opened it yet.”

She knew his budget, knew what he typically spent on things, and anything that came in a large, beautiful velvet box had to be highly out of his price range.

“Please,” he asked, when she had yet to take it.

Her fingers closed around the box and when she tried to open it, she found that it wouldn’t budge. “This better not be an elaborate plan to make me feel weak so I’ll ask you to do things for me.”

Cassian began to laugh and he took the box from her setting it down on the counter. He wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her against him, softly kissing her. “No, but that does sound like something I’d do.”

He pressed another kiss to her forehead and fished a small silver key from his pocket.

Nesta’s eyes widened as she saw that whatever was inside needed to be locked up and she decided then and there that whatever was in the box was extravagantly too much.

He unlocked the box and lifted the lid.

Nesta gasped, her body going still as she eyed the elaborate pearl necklace.

“Cassian,” she breathed, at least she thought she did, if words hadn’t completely escaped her.

“Do you like it?” He asked.

If he wasn’t injured she would slap him. Yes, she loved it, but it was way too much.

Way too much.

“I love it, Cass, but-.”

“No,” he interrupted. “Don’t protest. It’s taken care of. It’s done, and you’re keeping it.”

She opened her mouth to do just that, but he said, “I’ll explain later, I promise. It’s a gift, Nes, for you, for our daughter one day, or for our son to give to his wife. That was the condition given to me, and I intend to uphold it, but that can only happen if you agree to take it.” He kissed her again and breathed, “Please.”

She wasn’t sure if it was the hormones or the beauty of the situation, maybe it was a little bit of both, but she started to sob. Cassian tensed, surely thinking he had done something wrong, but it was quite the opposite. She had fully intended to yell at him for making such a mess in her kitchen, but instead, he had shown up with the most beautiful gift she had ever gotten.

“Thank you,” she managed to get out.

Cassian laughed, breathlessly, as he took Nesta into his arms, his good arm wrapping around her shoulder. “I assume these are happy tears, then? Because if not, I feel like a real jackass.”

She nodded, unable to speak as she cried into his chest.

He tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I was hoping your nap helped, but now that you’re crying, I’m not so sure.”

She sniffled, taking a second to compose herself. “No, it helped. I needed it. I’m just… overwhelmed. Cass, this is amazing. I love you so much.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She looked up into his eyes, completely amazed by the complex man before her. She would never understand him, the same man that built a tower out of utensils in her kitchen while also being the same man that brought her flowers and the most beautiful necklace she had ever seen.

He was incredible.

Indescribable.

All consuming.

And she was so madly, completely in love with him.

Cassian Nazari.

Her child’s father.

Her one true love.

She prayed, hoped, begged that there would never be a day of her life that went by that didn’t have him in it.

#sharacollab #theranchnessian #fanfic #au

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