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nelliebrookstone · 3 years ago

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( BRIANNE HOWEY, 29, CIS WOMAN, SHE/HER ) * hey, i’m looking for the office of ELEANOR ‘NELL’ BROOKSTONE. they’re the EMPLOYEE who’s known around the office as THE BURN BOOK, if that helps ? not to be a gossip, but i’ve heard that they’re SUPPORTIVE but PETTY, is that true ? i also heard that they’re the one who CRIED IN THE BATHROOM BECAUSE SOMEONE TOOK HER YOGURT. anyways, here’s the coffee they ordered.

Greetings Earthlings, my name is Asha I am simply a fellow human from planet earth looking to hang out with my cool friends at the Build-A-Bear. I’m excited to be here! I have more information on Eleanor (nellie if you know here, nell if you don’t) below the cut! If you give this a lil like I’ll slide into your exclusive tumblr DMs to plot!

So, who is Nell? Well let me tell you. As far as most people know, Nell is a former Masters Model turned Head of Talent Management for models. She’s a mix of sweet Alabama charm and scary dead smile energy, and she always has a compact for you to borrow in her purse. Most people know she always has a perfect french manicure and knows most people by first name. You might also know she recently divorced Parker and is no longer using his last name, please do not call her Mrs. Carson she’ll cry in the bathroom and then leave you a bad yelp review. You’re not even on yelp, you say? She’ll make one for you and then leave a bad review.

But like a curated Insta, this ain’t it folks. So buckle up. (I say this dramatically but tbh she has had a pretty stable life)

Nellie grew up in a smallish town in Alabama. If you ask her, it wasn’t small at all. But it certainly was compared to large city centers, and definitely compared to New York. It was the kind of town where everyone knew your business, and Nellie had a lot of business.

She was a teen queen! Head cheerleader, student president, shining volunteer of the county and Lady Alabama of 2010 (not to be confused with Miss Alabama, but if you ask her it’s basically the same thing). She was very involved in her community and her parents were well known in the area for their construction company. Everyone loved her that she was like the golden child of the town.

It was a great, privileged life! Her parents got married young, had a bunch of kids, and had the means to care for them! Her parents also have a very genuine love story, still passionate about each other years later. She and her sisters (all five of them) have always wanted a life like their parents’.

The one difference between her and her parents remained her desire to roam and see the world. She wanted to travel, or at least live in a place where she could meet new people from new places. Moving to New York seemed like a great place to get some experience, though if you ask her mother she probably got the idea from some dumb TV show. She did. It was a lot of shows. And a lot of movies. There were a ton of romantic comedies that TRULY shaped this desire.

she started sending in applications to various schools in New York. She was an honor list student with a lot of extra-circulars and passion to be at these places that shown through on all her apps. She got many a rejection, the one from Columbia was the hardest. It was the worst thing that ever happened to her at the time, so you can imagine how her life must have been.

She DID get accepted to NYU for Public Relations! CHEERS ALL AROUND! She was so excited. She was gonna see the world and be a big city bitch 10/10. In college, she was quickly involved in everything from various clubs, to sorority, to trying to get involved with the community. It didn’t work out as well. New York was just such a different town...in that it was...big. And she wasn’t used to that.

But she did meet a funky guy named Parker Carson! And they fell in love! And here is a short synopsis of their relationship:

they met at a department store. Parker looked a little lost in the dress shirt area so she helped him pick out an outfit and the rest was, as they say, history.

they had a great relationship at first, full of love and passion and fun times. he had a pokemon tattoo, she used to play pokemon snap. what a team!

but really, they had a great time together...which led them to get married real early. In fact, for Nell, this was even a little late. She thought she’d be married with kids by 23.

a lot of little things led to their downfall, but it can be boiled down to not fully understanding what it takes to live with another person who doesn’t mesh with your lifestyle. A big issue for Nell was kids. She wanted them, right then and there. He didn’t! No one’s fault, but it seemed to be a block they couldn’t get over.

they’re divorced now. it’s fresh. she’s got a lot of conflicts about it. She cannot believe she is divorced before 30. she cannot believe she doesn’t have kids by now. She is under the impression she’s run out of time for everything, which is not true at all but it’s how she feels. She’s none too fond of the man at the moment.

But listen! Nellie is a fun girl! She’s got a lot of ~zest~ for life and likes to do new things and try new places. She’s also just as comfortable spending the day at home on the couch with everything she needs within arms reach. She seems like someone who would be into partying but that’s really not her scene. She’s a brunch girl, a drive-thru movie theater girl, and an all-day 90 day fiance girl. She has an addiction to cherry cokes and always misses her stop on the subway because she gets distracted listening to her music and zoning out. She cries a lot during sad AND happy movies and can’t eat pork because she once knew a pig named Babe (no relation to the famous babe). Her favorite animal is the octopus and she volunteers with the homeless shelter every weekend.

All of this doesn’t really come across in her work persona. She always seems like she’s extremely put together and very good at what she does. She’s quick, snappy, and not afraid to speak her mind. She’s a master at the backhanded compliment and is the master of the delayed burn (you won’t know you’ve been roasted until she’s down the hallway). She has a very charming way of speaking with a thick southern accent and tons of sayings that no one knows the meaning of, but sometimes that Nice Southern Girl smile comes out and you know she would be stabbing you if such an act were socially acceptable. Despite this, Nellie doesn’t think she’s a mean person.

But I’m sure there are MANY people who think she is. Because...sometimes she is! No one is perfect, and she definitely has a reputation of being a major pain in the ass if you’re on her bad side. Nell remembers EVERY slight against her. Oh, she remembers when you commented on the amount of emails she sends. She remembers when you mentioned that you thought her font type was a little too bold. She remembers it all...and stores it in her mental burn book.

This also happens often because she is...pretty sensitive. And because she’s going through a divorce, which is NOT what she had planned for in life, she’s like a stubbed toe away from a full cry every day. She’s started to invest in waterproof mascara but it’s not working out. She really DID cry in the bathroom over her yogurt. She also came back the next day and wrote a VERY angry letter on the fridge titled ‘to the person who likes to take things that don’t belong to them, I hope your mother knows she raised a THIEF.’

As petty as she can be, she’s also a great person to have in your corner. If you’re a friend, she will fight for you to the end. She’s very loyal and will often drop whatever she’s doing if you need her. She can be very generous, no expenses spared to lift up someone she loves. If you’re a friend of hers, she’s a great friend. The kind you can call at 2 am when she’s dead asleep and she’ll still come help you move out of your shitty ex’s apartment.

Basically, Nell is a whole lot of things. Not all of them are great. But she likes to think of herself as a good person that cares about other people. She generally is! She’s also fairly good at having heart to heart conversations, and isn’t afraid to own her mistakes if she’s not still upset about the issue. But she’ll also try to ruin your career if you steal her yogurt. Fun!

I’ll add more as I think of it, but for now I’m here for all the plots. Best friends, enemies, the person who caught her crying in the bathroom, the person who caught her angrily scribbling her name on all her yogurt, you name it!

#masters.intro #oh man this is a mess I'm not cool enough for intros

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dominusfero · 4 years ago

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I see you want to do a self-ship challenge and can't choose between David, Daniel, and Jasper. I dare you to do all three.

Okay.

David: His personality, his long arms perfect for hugging and his gorgeous smile

Daniel: His beautiful eyes, his talent at violin/fiddle, his charisma

Jasper: His humor (no doubt he’s a memer), he’s got the cuddliest bod, his sense of fashion (as horrible as it may be, it’s amazing to me)

David: My baking skills. I love baking and I’m betting David has a serious sweet-tooth. We always have too many cookies, cakes, brownies in the house.

Daniel: I have magic hands (not NSFW, I took massage classes). I always manage to melt the tension out of his back and neck muscles, and he becomes a puddle when I do his thighs and feet. He’s very tense.

Jasper: (Not revealing my gender but--) Jasper likes my body, but not in a creepy way. He likes every little minor thing about my body, from my own scars to the heart shaped birthmark on my inner thigh. Plus, he says I’m soft.

Since we all live together, it’d be a bunch of different pets. Daniel gets his own pet rat called Snowflake, Jasper and I share a little Dasypeltis named Scramble, and David has a German Shepard that we call Kino.

4. Raised ranch with a pool, big veggie garden and a nice patio. Stuck between bordering on a forest for the animals or set in a giant field so Jasper and I can go ATVing.

5. Do I need to? David and Daniel are both adults, their voices won’t change. Jasper’s, however, is definitely deeper than it was as a child. My best guess is: he sounds exactly like Griffin McElroy.

6. Everyone assumes it’s David, but really, it’s Daniel. He’s only ever known the forced version of love due to the brainwashing, never genuine. The first time I hugged him and he hugged back, I ended up falling asleep because he wouldn’t let me go.

7. Also Daniel. Romantically, I think it’s rooted in potential abandonment issues / possessiveness but it’s never egregious. Any other kind, it’s the same reason why David gets jealous: absurd competitiveness. Can’t ever be the worst at something, otherwise it’s Tantrum Time. Fortunately, kisses make this go away.

David: Counting Stars by One Republic (country-ish vibe fits with his aesthetic)

Daniel: The whole of “Love Like You” by Rebecca Sugar

Jasper: Blackout by Breathe Carolina (Party vibes man)

9. Yes! Okay, so the guys change all the time but I’m usually in the middle (or close to it). Daniel is a clingy s.o.b. If he isn’t latched onto me, it’s either David or Jasper. I always end up in somebody’s arms, though. It’s really nice. Jasper’s chest hair tickles.

10.

David: One jab in the ribs and he squirms and squeals like a child

Daniel: Dude has 0 resistance to the tickles. I do not understand.

Jasper: A fucking rock (pun intended). He feels nothing.

Me: Ehh...kinda? I don’t think so.

11.

David

12.

We’re thinking of somewhere either in southern Italy or, if we had to stay domestic, probably New Orleans, Louisiana for the cuisine and culture.

13.

David: Forest cottagecore wedding

Daniel: Believe it or not, he wants a fairytale theme complete with toadstool cupcakes, pastel colored lights and simple grassy vibes. He likes the fantasy aspect of it because it feels so freeing.

Jasper: He’s stuck between Star Wars and an 80s bowling alley theme.

Me: Beach wedding so I don’t have to wear fancy clothes. Just a white swimsuit so I can go swimming right after.

14. Yeah, but the amount changes depending on who you ask. David wants two: one boy, one girl. Daniel, coming from a rather large family, wants no less than four and prefers boys. Jasper says he’s cool with one, has his fingers crossed for a girl but says if we end up with a boy, that’s just as dope.

15.

Daniel is the poet, Jasper is the cheesy love song writer.

16.

I guess my affection comes out in my cooking, but I also just snuggle/cuddle the fuck outta my boys.

David, for sure, is grand gestures. Flowers sent to work, buying candy/snacks when you’ve had a bad day, etc.

Daniel is more subtle, like meticulously folding the laundry or organizing your messy ass desk so you can actually find shit or tuning the guitar.

Jasper shows his love through bad puns and lots of hugs.

17.

To David: On cheek, forehead, lips

From David: My nose because he thinks it’s funny

To Daniel: On the back of his neck because it makes him weak in the knees

From Daniel: Knuckles because he’s a gentleman

To Jasper: His tum is fun because it makes him laugh but his lips are so much better

From Jasper: Wherever he can get to, he does not discriminate

18.

Since there’s four of us, we cuddle in a big pile on our lovely, humongous bed. Or in a pile split between the couch and floor while watching TV or movies.

19.

David: If he’s near somewhere to sit, I grab him from behind and pull him down and force him either into my lap or on top of me. Then I hold him until he feels less crappy. Kisses are involved.

Daniel: I brew him a cup of his favorite tea, give him a kiss and shoulder rub.

Jasper: He’s easy. Sneak up on him and squish a whoopie cushion with a straight face. Or kick open the door to wherever he is after blasting the Monsters Inc. Opening Meme track.

Me: I don’t have too many bad days but I do, being around my boys is enough to fix my mood on its own. But for those days when it isn’t, my boys usually make me some kind of fix-it meal (that usually isn’t very good but I ain’t gonna say anything).

20.

David: Gardening, well, veggie gardening. We love hoe-ing around together.

Daniel: Drawing and writing together. Daniel writes poetry and I design covers and illustrations to go along with it.

Jasper: Video games and meme sharing / making

21.

David: He took me out to this nice little hidden oasis deep in the mountains of the forest and we gazed at the stars. He started talking about something relating to the area we were in, but I fell asleep on him. Literally, we were laying down and I was on his right side and fell asleep with my face in his chest.

Daniel: We binged a bunch of horror movies and spent the night laughing at the stupid ways people died (or let themselves be killed). It was fun!

Jasper: I whooped his ass in Mario Kart and then we played Minecraft. I accidentally (not really) blew up his house.

22.

Camp (I was working for Camp Corp. and was sent to relay marketing information and a potential budget for the coming year, as well as mockup any infrastructure changes that may need doing)

23.

Daniel, though I will cut a bitch if anyone hurts my boys in any way. Daniel will actively murder, though, so we try not to let that happen.

24.

YES

I miss my boys so much! David cries a lot and it hurts me in every conceivable way.

Ask me a freebie, I’ll answer it!

#camp camp #cc daniel #cc jasper #cc david #f/o ships #dansper #danvid #jaspdanvid #jaspvid #me and my ot3 #that should be a fic name lol

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theincompetentgenius · 5 years ago

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Waves of Glass (Hideyoshi x Reader)

Anon: Can I get a Hideyoshi IkeSen angst followed by fluff with a savage s/o or mc. I’ll leave the storyline to you. Make me suffer, cause me pain.💜💜 I love your writing style, it’s amazing. Your language is really flowy hehehe

I think this fic is 90% angst and 10% fluff? Actually, I don’t even think it’s fluff (or as fluffy as it should be to balance the darkness of the fic), but silly humor? I tried my best but this turned out to be a lot darker than I expected. Anywho, thanks for the wait and enjoy!

Title: Waves of Glass

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Hideyoshi x Reader

Word Count: 2085

TW: Angst, Blood, Guns, Drowning

“This is the bullet I’ve been saving for you,” the man purrs. He presses the barrel of his gun to my forehead.

The moonlight shines on his slick, pale face. I’m trapped between this psychopath and a wall of glass that veils the glimmering ocean, which sits about 50 feet below me. I have no idea what to do. The objective was to indefinitely borrow something and leave, not sitting as a hostage and having my brains blown. I highly doubt that the warlord would get to since I snuck into their caravan of supplies and slipped out while they were asleep. Maybe I should’ve listened to Hideyoshi.

As my thoughts circle around my head, the small amount of moonlight is hidden behind a veil of clouds. In the momentary cover of darkness, I slip my hand into his pocket and take what I needed. What I came here for in the first place. He shifts slightly, the rustling sound of his jacket masking the sound of soft footsteps. The general turns around, distracted by the sudden thump in the chamber in the other room. He lowers the gun.

I don’t think as I push him to the ground. He fires the gun and the bullet whizzes by my cheek. I grab his hand and he shoots the gun in random directions, trying to gain control of his aim. I slam my other fist into his face at the same time as I bring my knee to his groin. The sound of the gun exploding and the bullet ricocheting off the wall fills my ears. Too close. The man takes advantage of my daze and grabs me by the neck. Instant fills my throat. I gasp for air, but my lungs are frozen and my chest doesn’t move. He flips me over. The gun is once again at my head.

Another bang. This time, it’s not from a bullet but an angry Hideyoshi who looms over the man. His sword is at the general’s neck. “Let her go,”

Hideyoshi slashes the general’s hand. The stranger howls in pain and drops the gun. I run towards the warlord, but my man trips me with his feet and pushes me towards the glass wall. It was covered in bullet holes and completely shattered. The man scrambled to his feet and grabs a chair. He eyed Hideyoshi as he lifts the chair, but he swings his arms in my direction. The chair’s leg hits my stomach and my head smashes against the glass with a loud thud. Hideyoshi tries to run over to me, but the man throws another chair in his direction. I try to lift my head, but a shard of glass cuts my jaw. Blood trickles down my neck.

Another piece of furniture flies in my direction. Although I narrowly avoid it, another shard of glass rips my stomach. Pain sears through my body. If the general didn’t kill me, then the blood loss will. I manage to move from the area of sharp glass and rest against a large crack. My body was in no condition to move. Even if I did, the man was closer and would get to me before Hideyoshi. I sigh and watch the battle before me, pushing my body against the glass to lift myself up. My legs unfold themselves and my back is almost straight. I try to push my back against the wall with a little more force. Just a little further.

The glass behind me makes a final crack before the entire wall falls down. I double over from surprise, my weight pushing me backward. Hideyoshi lifts his head and screams. He rushes to me, trying to grab my hand. I try to lift my hand, but a shard of glass comes between us and slices my finger. My hand coils back and my foot fly in mid-air. The glass follows me as we plummet into the sea. It no longer holds its previous glimmer, it has become an abyss. Dark and lightless.

My head collides with the waves. I try not to scream to prevent the water from clogging my lungs. I dive down, squinting in the dark an opening in the violent waves. A loud clunk has me looking up. Something large comes rushing at me and I barely move aside in time as another piece of glass hits me. It cuts my right shoulder and I scream from the pain. Crimson colors the waters. for a moment, my body floating. His dark hair fans out around him. I paddle closer towards him, this time slower, my energy and air rapidly draining. He rushes toward me, his eyes filled with worry. I realize his armor is weighing him down. He holds one hand out, while the other struggles to unsheathe the sword at his side. It doesn’t budge. He is wasting the remnants of his strength and the surface is still at least fifty feet away.

I reach my hand out to him. My fingertips touch his. My vision grows dark as the last of my energy drains, but the fear is widespread in my chest. His sword finally comes out. He thrusts the hilt in my direction while clutching the blade. Hideyoshi winces and blood floats around his sword. I grab onto it with a shaky arm, my knuckles white against the handle. Lightning flashes and he let go of the sword, causing me to fall. He shoots towards me but stumbles backward from the current’s force. I swim against it, but my injured shoulder strains against the pain. With a force of determination, Hideyoshi grabs my arm. I try to pull myself forward. He seems heavier than he did before, or is my strength fading? I shake my head to clear it and only succeed in making myself dizzy. My throat is closing up. He grabs me with his other arm and pulls me close.

We crash through to the surface, the storm still raging. The rain makes it hard to see, but there is a ship nearby. Hideyoshi calls out to the sailors on the ship. They don’t hear him. He takes the sword in my hands and waves around, hoping to grab their attention. One sailor points in our direction and the ship steers towards us. Minutes later, he throws us a line. He loops the rope around us and yanks it to signal the sailors. He holds me as we are hoisted up. I cough and sputter as large amounts of water exit my mouth. My chest heaves.

I turn around to face Hideyoshi. “You’re late.”

“Please tell me you’re alright,” He rushes over and hugs me.

“Yes. Three broken ribs, a split spleen, a dislocated foot, and a dismembered limb. They might’ve cut out my kidneys too.”

He scolds me, “Are you really going to joke around after nearly drowning?”

I bring myself nose to nose with him with a wink. “Don’t act like you aren’t enjoying this whole rescue mission.”

His scowl deepens. “Do you understand how worried I was when I found out you weren’t in your room? And the horror when you left a note saying you were breaking into the general’s home? What were you trying to do?”

I pull the object from my pocket and hold it up into the light. A small leather bag. Inside were important documents. Our key to stopping the uprising next month. “The plans for the Southern Uprising. He kept it in his coat pocket. That is the worst place to keep something you don’t want to be stolen. He was practically begging me to take it.” I click my tongue in disappointment.

His jaw drops and his scowl only deepens. “No one asked you to steal war documents! Mitushide was supposed to retrieve that information. You nearly died.”

“Wow thanks for the gratitude,” I roll my eyes.

Hideyoshi shakes his head. He buries his head in his hands and takes a moment to compose himself before looking at me once more. His mouth opens to tell me something, but his eyes water with tears. He rests his head on my shoulder and tears of my own begin to sprout.

“Stop crying. Aren’t you supposed to be Nobunaga’s second-in-command? You face life-threatening situations all the time. You’re practically a superhero. Why are you crying?” My voice is shaking as I try to keep myself together.

His arms grow tighter around me. “When I’m on the front lines, I have to worry about my own life. I’ve already accepted that I’ll die giving my life for someone, whether it be for you, Nobunaga, or the people. As long as you’re safe, I don’t mind.” Hearing him brings tears of my own. He clears his throat and continues. “Even if you’re away from me, you’re always kept safe at the palace or in the medical tents. But tonight was the first time I had seen you so close to death. Never in my life had I imagined that you would die before me. You can’t die before me or I’ll have nothing left.”

I bring his head to my chest and ruffle his hair. “Well I’m alive and breathing, aren’t I. You call it a careless risk, but I call it a successful mission. Besides, you can’t kill me because I’m a bad bitch.” I give a weak laugh and flash him a stupid grin.

He lifts his head and chuckles. “I’ve never heard anyone use profanity to address themselves positively. What does that even mean?”

I flex my non-existent muscles and make finger-guns. “It means that a slimy, konpeito-looking idiot can’t harm me because I’m a strong and independent woman who can defend myself. The only thing that could send me six feet under is the fact that he smells like the showers with a bar of dung. Also, did you get a look of his eyes? They look more like the nasty wart on his foot than actually human eyes.”

Hideyoshi pushed me away and wrinkles his nose. “Alright, I didn’t need that image in my head.”

Despite the throbbing pain in my stomach, I laugh and inch closer to him.“I’m pretty sure his pants had stains of urine and fec-”

“Alright, that’s enough. Now let’s go get you cleaned up and bandaged. The pieces of glass wedged into your skin could cause some real problems, so we need to get them removed. You don’t want to lose any blood, even if you’re a ‘bad bitch’.” He shakes his head, but the corners of his mouth curled upward.

Hearing him say the words “bad bitch” made me erupt with laughter. He sounded so silly that I rolled over, crying tears of laughter. Hideyoshi insists that it wasn’t that funny, but if he had heard himself, he’d probably pee his pants. I roll across the shipboard.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the tiny figure swimming upwards, his arms slowing down with the effort. I stop moving, laughter echoing around me. Hideyoshi follows me and grabs my arm to stop me from rolling. When I look at his face, I notice that he’s laughing as well.

“Are you finished?” He sits on the floor and places my head on his lap.

“If you heard how stupid you sounded, you’d understand why I’m laughing so hard.” The last of my laughter fizzles out.

“Then imagine how silly it sounds when you say it,” He chuckles.

For a moment, we sat together, watching the moon illuminate the waves. Something that seemed cold and dark not too long ago is now our source of peace and comfort. That and the fact that we somehow survived this whole debacle. I rock against his lap and bring his hands under my chin. He plants a small kiss on my head.

“Please don’t ever do that again.”

#ikemen sengoku #hideyoshi toyotomi #ikesen hideyoshi #toyotomi hideyoshi #hideyoshi x reader #ikemen hideyoshi #ikesen fanfic

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leowenila · 5 years ago

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Shepherd’s Superheroes

Hello! During last season’s hiatus and before posting stories publicly; I wrote this and it might be one of my most favorite (out of my own writings) stories ever! A few days ago I sat down to reread it and make a few changes with more information we have gotten this season. This story is mostly an alternative-universe but mostly it’s a lot of fluffy-comfort with a small portion of angst. This is a long one!! I hope you all enjoy this one as much as I do! PS; if anyone is interested, there is a part two still in my drafts 💗😊

Traveling with an eleven month old proved to be tremendously different to Owen and Amelia than they initially it would be like, once landing, they realized it was totally worth it. The couple did not travel much due to their busy career lives but shortly after Miranda Bailey discussed with the neurosurgeon about having too many vacation days built up; both her and her fiance thought it was the perfect time to go visit and introduce the family she built with Owen, to her family. No matter how many years had passed; she has always missed them in a way that is impossible for her to describe to the average person. Half of Amelia missing her family was due to curiosity over the question of if they would be proud of her new life or not.

Eventually after their plane safely landed and the purchase of their rent-a-car was confirmed; Owen and Amelia along with Leo reached their destination and began walking towards the same red brick building that held countless amount of memories for the neurosurgeon. Once in the building the family stepped into the elevator and rested their backs on the wall, Amelia sighed causing the small boy to giggle at his mom and later causing all three of them to laugh. Watching Owen bounce Leo on his hip bone made the brunette realize that what she found attractive in Owen was drastically different than what she found attractive many years ago; as she was in the same exact elevator.

“Shut up; bitches. I need to get laid. I need to get laid, really bad.” The young brunette shared with the other two women on the elevator- in her true, non-existent filter self. Both Addison and Violet brought their conversation to a pause once hearing Amelia’s declaration. The psychologist grew concerned due to the fact of not knowing the neurosurgeon well.

“So bad that I’m going to run naked through the street and grind a cop, if something doesn’t happen soon. Wouldn’t one of you just lie on top of me and rub around, for like ten minutes.”

Her laughter amplified once the particular memory of her, Violet and Addison after Amelia returned from her Seattle trip. Owen stared at the same beautiful smile he could watch all week long and noticed how truly happy she seemed once breathing in the California air. Choosing not to question her about why her laughter changed, the two walked off the elevator with Leo beside them, towards a blonde receptionist at the desk and allowed the brunette to take charge with the plan she had in mind since sitting on the plane.

“Hello, our son; Leo, has an appointment with Dr. Cooper Freedman for his yearly checkup.” Amelia informed the blonde receptionist that appeared to be new from since her sudden departure from the group nearly six years ago.

With a confused expression upon her face, the receptionist looked up and down her computer screen to find the brunette’s name.

“I’m sorry, but are you positive his name isn’t under a different name? Maybe you are scheduled for a different day or-?” The not-so-friendly but unamused receptionist asked Amelia. Owen watched Amelia for a second before he noticed a small invisible light bulb, lit up inside of her beautiful brain. Knowing his fiancé well, the trauma surgeon took it as a cue before speaking to the blonde in front of him.

“Excuse me; ma’am? Could you please point me in the direction of the restrooms. We had a very long drive and did not think to find a place before arriving.”

The receptionist removed herself from the back of the desk; where she had been sitting and started walking with Owen and Leo, and made their way to the restrooms. Once the woman was gone and Owen’s back was turned, Amelia began to walk back to the familiar area. The area that hasn’t changed a bit. The area that so many memories were made. And that’s when she saw her family.

Deciding to have her identity remain anonymous the brunette kept her dark-shaded sunglasses on her cerulean eyes and slowly walked into the legendary kitchen of Seaside Wellness Group. Every doctor from the practice was enjoying sandwiches that appeared to be catered by a local sandwich shop.

“I was wondering where I could maybe find a doctor?”

“Oh hello; I’m sorry ma’am, but this area is for employees only. The receptionist should be able to point you in the direction of the waiting room.” The familiar and ever-so-kind male psychologist suggested to who he thought was a stranger.

Amelia continued to stand she removed her sunglasses and before she had time to fix her short hair, every person in the room gasped at who was standing in the kitchen across from them. As if on an impulse all of them stopped what they were doing and practically ran over to Amelia.

“Amelia? Amelia Shepherd? What the hell are you doin’ here?” Charlotte asked with her thick southern accent still very present, after hugging her “junkie best friend” tightly and they smiled at one another.

“Vacation! I need a vacation and I thought what better people to visit my favorite people.”

From afar stood her former sister-in-law, grinning ear to ear with tears shining in her electric blue eyes. Addison shook her head once Amelia removed herself from the blonde’s hug, neither one of them moved for a few moments until they couldn’t take a second more apart. Addison wrapped her longer arms around Amelia and held on for longer than she thought she would, the brunette buried her head into Addison’s shoulder and silently started to allow happy tears to pour out of her eyes. After reconnecting with the people Amelia loved the most, she wiped her tears away as Addison escorted her sister towards the sandwiches where she began to enjoy lunch with them just like old times.

“I have to catch up on some charts; but it is so wonderful to see you again, Amelia.” Jake told Amelia as he held several patient charts in one arm and hugged her from the side. Once done hugging him, Amelia returned to the crafting of her sandwich.

Moments later after returning from the restroom with Leo; the trauma surgeon began to wander the hallways of the welcoming practice and noticed a quiet yet beautifully lit, to his left; with the door slightly open already, he made his way inside. Unaware of a unique calmness that coursed through his body, Owen felt guided to walk towards the wall with multiple framed photographs.

“Bradley S. Kramer. Detroit, Michigan

Lucile “Lulu” E. Allen. Los Angeles, California

Sarah G. Tanner. Chicago, Illinois

Gideon T. Yang. Los Angeles, California”

The trauma surgeon read the four names to himself and saw their photographs. Confused as to what and why the four children were standing beside his fiance; Owen slightly jumped upon hearing one of the doctors at the practice he assumed was Addison’s husband based on photos Amelia has shown him in the past.

“That was an incredible day for all of us; but definitely for Amelia.” Jake told Owen as he also focused on the wall in front of the two men, a smile washed over his face as he remembered that day clearly.

“What is this exactly? Why was it such an incredible day?” The dumbfounded trauma surgeon asked the dark haired man with several patient files in between his arm muscle and his side.

“You see this little guy; right here?” Jake pointed to the photograph in the center of the wall; a small baby boy wrapped in a sky blue blanket, held by his mother. His eyes were closed and his body was small and fragile like. Some moments after fixing his eyes on the small baby; Owen noticed the woman holding the baby, none other than Amelia with a giant smile on her face holding her perfect son. The same son she had told Owen that only lived for forty three minutes, several years ago.

“This is Christopher. Amelia’s son. And children like Gideon and Lulu and Bradley are just some of the children he saved because Amelia decided to donate all of his organs so other kids could leave the hospital. He was, or should I say still is her little superhero.”

No words came to the trauma surgeon’s mouth as he remained speechless, a few months ago was one of the first times that Amelia spoke about her son and told Owen his name but she never talked about what had happened after forty three minutes had passed. She told him that she will tell him the rest of the story one day. Jake left Owen with the bright smile on his face after his visit. Removing Owen from his thoughts; the trauma surgeon heard a knock on the glass door, he looked up and saw the brunette.

“That was a spectacular day.” She said as she walked into the office in which used to be Pete’s office, the brunette watched her fiance continuing to look in shock.

��Remember when I ran away because I was afraid to have your baby?” The brunette asked him; without saying a word, Owen shook his head and turned his attention on her to agree with her.

“Well I didn’t only run away to Stephanie’s.. I flew to Los Angeles to be apart of the grand opening of this office, in my happy place. This little boy is my superhero. Each one of these kids are my superheroes.” Amelia told Owen after she hugged him tightly in a place she never imagined she would be with the love of her life. A place from her past but also a place of her present. A state that she considered home. From afar on the couch in the same somewhat large room; Leo watched on has his parents embraced and giggled. Causing all three of them to laugh.

Hope you all enjoyed!

#seasidescorsone #amelia shepherd #owen hunt #omelia fanfiction

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carmenlire · 6 years ago

Text

White Blank Page Final Chapter

This amazing edit is courtesy of the lovely, amazing @kindaresilient!!!

read chapter one

read chapter two

read chapter three

read chapter four

read chapter five

read on ao3

Magnus strides down the street, warm even as a cool breeze blows gently across his face. It’s the beginning of March and it’s a nice, sunny day-- a taste of spring to come.

Unfortunately, Magnus barely pays it any mind. He’s far more focused on his destination. He’s been out of town for two weeks and he told Alec that it would be a measly two days away.

London had been a nightmare and he’d ended up spending almost a week in the city before he’d taken a train to Birmingham to another press. It’d been a nation-wide issue with his distributors and he’d visited every set of offices he had in the UK. Taking the opportunity to do a tour and make sure his other business was running smoothly, Magnus had barely stopped the entire trip.

He made a point to visit his offices every six months-- he didn’t want anyone getting too comfortable, didn’t want any accusations that he was an out-of-touch boss. Still, it seemed like in the four months since he’d last visited, everything had gone to shit and everyone wanted to take a minute to complain or run something by him.

Magnus loves his company-- he does-- but the past two weeks have been exhausting. He’d felt like a chicken running around with his head cut off and while he’d thought of Alexander more than was wise, considering the crisis he was dealing with, he’d been helpless to do anything about it.

Time differences were a bitch and the only free moments he’d had were in the early mornings or late nights at the office after everyone had gone home. He hadn’t wanted to press Alec, in any case.

There was a piece of Magnus that couldn’t help but wonder if that night at the Lightwood Gala hadn’t been a fluke. What if the tension that’s crackled and simmered since the fall had been abated in the orangery-- what if it was a good thing that Magnus had been called away to business.

He wasn’t ordinarily plagued with doubt, but then again, Magnus has never felt like this before. It’s been long months of him getting to know Alec, the quiet bookstore owner who’d unceremoniously burrowed his way into Magnus’s heart.

That quiet confidence spoke to Magnus. Alec might be a handsome man but it was his keen intellect and dry wit and overwhelming kindness what had wrapped around Magnus and refused to let go.

Landing in New York that morning, Magnus had suffered through a meeting with his marketing department that couldn’t be rescheduled before grabbing his phone and all but running out the door.

Raphael, the absolute bugger, had stared at him with his trademark smirk trailing his mouth at Magnus’s enthusiasm to abandon his post. There was a time, not all that long ago, when Magnus would have pulled eighteen hour days to get caught up on what he’d missed in headquarters.

Magnus had barely paid Raphael any mind besides hissing, “What the hell do I pay you for because I know it’s not to rest on your laurels and watch me leave,” as he’d strode past his right hand man.

Busier than usual, Magnus blames the warm sunshine for the crowds of people swarming the sidewalks of New York. He has to dodge and weave like the expert New Yorker he is and as he walks past the chocolatier that resided a block from Lightwood Books, Magnus marvels at how so much can change in such a short time.

Well, he concedes. Hopefully not too much.

Desperately, he hopes that Alec hasn’t changed his mind. In horror, a thought flies through his brain that makes him want to wash it out with bleach as he picks up his pace.

He doesn’t want Alec to think he’s lost interest, which he can now see could be a perfectly reasonable assumption from his darling.

Oh hell and blast, Magnus thinks. He takes a deliberate breath as he rounds the corner. Alec’s bookshop is the first door on the right and he doesn’t want to look like a madman who’s been hurrying through the city-- even though Magnus very much fears that’s exactly what he is.

Swinging the door open, Magnus takes in the cheerful decor that’s changed since he was last there. In celebration of spring, the bookstore was the most cheerful Magnus had ever seen-- there was a colorful cookbook display and the window display had all sorts of Easter cheer with rabbits and faux grass and large, painted eggs decorating the area.

Alec’s tall frame isn’t immediately visible, so Magnus wanders through the store. It gives him a chance to calm the fuck down.

Going upstairs, he can’t help the way his shoulders slump in disappointment when he doesn’t see his-- well, he doesn’t even know what Alec is.

That’s the problem. Magnus knows what he wants Alec to be-- what he wants them to be-- but everything is so up in the air right now that he feels like tearing his goddamn hair out.

Thankfully, he sees Clary in the children’s section and quickly gets out of the way as a few children run past him. Story hour’s just concluded and Clary is just tidying up as the last mother ushers her children over to the cafe area.

“Biscuit,” he greets warmly. He subtly scans the rest of the second floor as he continues, “How’s your morning been?”

“It’s been fun as always,” Clary answers brightly. “We had over a dozen kids show up to story hour and for the most part, they all paid attention this time.”

There’s a pause that Magnus distantly notes even as he’s still too preoccupied looking for any sign of Alec.

When Clary doesn’t say anything after another moment, though, he pulls himself away from his search to glance at her, doing a double take as he sees her expression.

She’s studying him with a faint grin even as he sees a hint of warning in her eyes.

“Biscuit,” he asks warily.

“What brings you here, Magnus?”

Raising a brow, he replies, “What always brings me here, dear. I’m looking for Alexander.”

That must not have been the right answer, because Clary’s arms cross as she stares at him, unimpressed. “And where have you been?”

Magnus blinks, then blinks again. “Sorry?”

Sighing loudly, Clary relaxes before slapping his shoulder. “You come in here, every day for months, and it finally looks like you and Alec might figure your shit out before the next ice age and then you leave? And don’t say a word? For two weeks?”

Wincing, Magnus says, “Business held me up.”

Clary grants no quarter, though. “Then, why didn’t you call him Magnus?”

“Alexander and I have never exchanged numbers,” he admits weakly. A thought occurs to him, though, and he narrows his eyes. “Did Alec say something?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” Clary replies primly.

“Shit.”

Clary sends him a commiserating look. “Yeah,” she says. She seems to debate for a minute before elaborating, "Alec didn't say anything but he was grumpier than usual this week."

“Where is he now? In the back?”

Now it’s Clary’s turn to wince. “He’s actually not here?”

Waving that away, Magnus stares at nothing as he plots. “No worries, dear. He’ll be back from lunch soon. I probably have another fifteen minutes? Twenty?”

“Actually,” Clary starts, trailing off so long that Magnus’s attention focuses back on her. “He’s not in the city?”

Magnus can’t help it. He stares at Clary uncomprehending. “What?”

Blowing out a breath, Clary explains, “Every year, Jace takes Alec and Izzy on a trip. It’s two weeks of the three of them turning off their phones and recharging. Jace plans the whole thing and surprises Alec and Isabelle with it the night before. The Lightwoods own a cabin in the Adirondacks that they’ve used before but it’s just as likely that they’re in a Villa in Southern France or at a resort in Cozumel. The only rule is that it’s just the three of them and that they aren’t allowed to contact anyone back home.”

“What if there’s an emergency?”

Clary shrugs. “They leave instructions wherever they go in case they need to be contacted but really, everyone knows to leave them alone during their vacation.”

Stepping closer, Clary says, “Alec always returns from their trip looking happy, even if he complains about it for a week afterwards. It’s a thing.”

“A thing, huh?”

Mulling over that information, Magnus glares at the espresso machine across the room with little heat. Now that he takes a good look over there, he can see Simon in Jace’s usual place, dealing with a can of whipped cream that had exploded all over the cash register.

His gaze snaps back to Clary’s as she clears her throat. “So, you’re telling me there’s no way to contact Alec until he returns from his vacation?”

“Yeah.” Clary’s voice is apologetic even if she’s patently unconcerned.

With a sigh, Magnus pats her shoulder and wanders back downstairs.

It looks like it will be a lonely two weeks before he sees Alec again.

“Goddamnit.”

Magnus swears as he gets a paper cut. Popping his thumb into his mouth, he glowers at Raphael who looks unforgivably apathetic at Magnus’s wound.

Instead, his friend raises an unimpressed brow. “Why don’t you just take a break? It’s not like you’re going to get any work done today.”

Glaring, Magnus takes his throbbing finger-- that’s still bleeding-- out of his mouth. “I’m the founder and CEO of Bane Media, Raphael, and I don’t take breaks. I’m a machine, capable of a work pace that would make you cry. I’m the--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Raphael cuts in dryly. “You can do the work of ten men and not break a sweat. You’re no mere mortal, forced to bend to the will of a clock. You’re also preoccupied and in a shitty mood, so I’d thank you to take your attitude away from my goddamn news room.”

Magnus huffs out a breath before he leans against the chair in Raphael’s office. Raphael is sitting in front of him, looking at him with a dead expression.

“It’s my newsroom,” is all Magnus can think to say and he sees the imperceptible way that his second in command’s lips turn up before he’s jerking his head towards his door.

“Alec should be back by now, shouldn’t he? Why don’t you get out of my hair and go talk to him, Bane?”

Magnus’s mouth is a sullen line. “Clary said he won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.”

Raphael stares at him for a minute before he’s suddenly pushing his chair back and reaching for his jacket.

He throws it on and comes around the desk, not stopping until he reaches Magnus’s side. Magnus looks up at him, unmoving.

“Well, come on then,” Raphael says grumpily.

Magnus stands, asking, “Where are you taking me?”

Raphael rolls his eyes. “I’m taking you to get some coffee. I’m hoping the fresh air will do you good.”

He can’t really think of anything to say to that, so Magnus shrugs and buttons his jacket, stepping through the door Raphael holds open with a murmured thanks.

It’s been cloudy and overcast all day-- fitting for his mood, Magnus thinks glumly-- and as they walk through the throngs of people, there’s no conversation. Magnus opens the door to a local coffee shop that was less than a block from their offices and thankfully, it’s rather empty. It’s the awkward time between breakfast and lunch and there’s only a few students milling about on laptops.

The two of them order their coffee and are waiting at the pick-up station when Raphael suddenly speaks.

“You need to stop moping around.”

Magnus looks at him askance. “I wasn’t aware that I was.”

Rolling his eyes, Raphael reaches for his americano when it’s called out. “I’m the one who’s had to listen to you talk about Lightwood’s eyes and his damned smile and ‘oh my god, Raph, did you know Alec held poetry readings at the store on Thursday evenings.’”

Raphael cuts him a long-suffering look. “You need to talk to him or stop harassing me about him, at least. Since I called you from the Valentine’s Day party, you’ve been a mess.” Raphael grimaces in distaste. “You’re usually much more bubbly and I don’t like seeing you like this.”

Stepping forward to reach for his own chai tea latte, Magnus frowns. “Things just happened at that party and we haven’t spoken since. It’s been almost a month and I might be in a bit of a tizzy over whether Alec thinks I’ve lost interest. I know that I haven’t but a picture says a thousand words and I don’t want Alexander to get the wrong message--”

Magnus is well aware that he’s rambling and that it’s beneath him-- he just can’t seem to stop. He’s just taken the first sip of his drink when he takes a step back and runs into someone.

Looking over his shoulder, there’s an apology already on his tongue when he freezes.

“Alexander,” he breathes, trying frantically to be calm yet attentive yet process the fact that the man he can’t stop thinking about has popped up like he was summoned from his damned imagination.

“Magnus.” Alec’s voice sounds a little strangled and Magnus catches Jace elbowing Isabelle who looks gleeful as a kid on Christmas as she takes in the unfolding scene.

Smiling softly, Magnus says, “Long time, no see, darling.”

“Yeah,” Alec replies in a voice just as low. The two of them stare at each other for a few minutes, silent, before Alec seems to jolt out of his daze. Magnus, for his part, was quite content to study Alec’s features, relieved as he didn’t see any sign of animosity.

“Do you wanna go on a date sometime? With me? Soon?”

Magnus blinks rapidly at the questions, though a smile grows as he takes in the words. Alec looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up and Magnus makes a little sound of sympathy, though he laughs, just a little, and takes a small step closer.

He watches as Alec closes his eyes in defeat before taking a breath. When he opens his eyes a second later, Magnus’s breath catches at the emotions swimming in those beautiful, hazel depths.

Looking determined, Alec reaches for Magnus’s hand, tangling their fingers. “Long time, no see,” he repeats and Magnus’s smile widens.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”

“We came back early,” Alec admits sheepishly. He doesn’t look behind him but Magnus does and he sees Isabelle and Jace rolling their eyes in their brother’s direction. “I-- ah, I was a pain in their ass so we drove back into the city this morning. I wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

Alec makes the little confession with a sigh, running his free hand through his hair.

“You were away on business and then I was away on Jace’s stupid annual Lightwood sibling retreat--”

“Hey! You love our getaways, when you’re not too busy thinking about Magnus--”

“Anyway,” Alec says loudly-- too loudly for the empty coffee shop for the barista who was shamelessly listening in, jumps in surprise and drops her cup of ice.

With a harried look at Magnus, Alec resolutely continues, “I decided on the trip that I was going to ask you out the first chance I had. We were interrupted at the gala and I don’t want to wait any longer to see you again-- outside of the bookstore, even though I love when you visit,” Alec ends with a soft smile that warms Magnus’s whole damn body.

Magnus stares at Alec for a second, grinning at him, at this adorable man he’d run into by chance, that makes him want to slow down and smell the roses, as long as he’s by his side.

For the first time in his life, Magnus decides words aren’t enough and lets go of Alec’s hand just to grab him by the front of his sweater and bring their mouths crashing together.

The kiss gentles almost immediately, becoming something slow and lingering. Alec’s lips are slightly chapped from the wind outside and he tastes like peppermint-- a lovely discovery to make, Magnus thinks as he crowds against Alec.

Alec brings his hands up to cup Magnus’s face and Magnus shivers at the feel of those hands finally on him.

He doesn’t know how long they spend kissing in the middle of a perfectly nondescript coffee shop before someone coughs obnoxiously loud and the two of them break apart, out of breath but grinning.

“In case it wasn’t clear,” Magnus whispers in the space between their lips, “I’d love to go out with you.”

Alec laughs, something bright that fills Magnus with indescribably warmth.

“Good,” he says simply. “I’ve been wanting to move on to the next chapter since that damned orangery.”

Magnus grins and has the distant thought that he’ll have to get Raphael a fruit basket or something just as extravagant for making him come to the coffee shop.

Pulling Alec even closer, Magnus smiles into Alec’s mouth as he whispers, “Our story’s just getting started, darling.”

The next time they break apart it’s because Jace throws a napkin at their heads, yelling loudly about coffee shop decorum. Alec rolls his eyes but keeps Magnus close and Magnus leans into the sensation and knows that this is just the beginning.

#wbp #white blank page #malec fic #my writing #thank god this is finally done

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inadequeer · 8 years ago

Text

title: Hang Me Up to Dry

relationships: jayroy

summary: When Jason happens to be state side training with another teacher Talia set up, he runs into someone from a past life.

a/n: Set during lost days. I wanted to write Jason helping Roy get clean instead of Dinah and Hal

[on ao3]

Star City was a shithole, but in a different way than Gotham was a shithole. Star City was where you went to make it big, and where you died of an overdose in swimming pool fifteen years later. A sprawling southern California city and the center of the nation’s film and television industry. Where Gotham had endless families of organized crime and psychopaths in masks, Star City just had crime, plain and simple. Gang bangers and Pushes ruled the city while the rich movie stars snorted cocaine in their beach homes and pretended the world didn’t exist outside of Star Hills.

The air reeked of pollution and sweat, and something left sitting out in the sun for too long. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a homeless person or an aspiring actor. Jason didn’t know if he would burn Gotham or Star City down first if he had the chance, at least Star City had beaches so you could at least pretend it was pretty Gotham didn't even have that. He was only here on business, he never would have set foot in the hole otherwise, learning how to make poisons and toxins from a cruel Chinese woman who doubled as a heroin supplier. (Another pointless errand from Talia.)

He was sprawling out on the couch watching some Spanish soap opera that he had gotten invested into while he waited for Soo to return, when he caught the tail-end of a conversation between two thugs who ran the streets for Soo, selling her product. In other words— scumbag drug dealers. They were both Mexican like him, one with a close shaved head and a tacky goatee, and the other was decked out in gang tattoos, including a tasteful teardrop inked onto his cheekbone.

“If we're short again this month, she’s going to kill us.”

“Relax. We just need to find Harper. He’s gotta be itching for his fix by now.”

“Haven’t seen him in a while. Maybe he finally ate it.”

“I hope not. He's a piece of shit, but he’s a regular.”

They whispered to each other in hushed Spanish— as if they thought because he was from Gotham he couldn’t understand them. The chatter was nothing interesting, but the name caught Jason’s attention. It was a name from a past life, a lazy grin, messy red hair, memories fleeting behind his eyes like a forgotten song. A person, he’d actually remembered a person, that almost never happened.

“Hola,” He greeted, stormy eyes bright and intense as he stood up and gave the two gangsters a casual grin. “Who’s Harper?” He asked in Spanish. They gave each other uneasy looks, unsure of what to do when cornered by an eighteen-year-old who looked ready to snap either of their necks.

“He’s just some white trash junkie. He’s a regular, but he hasn’t been seen for a while.” Jason cracked his knuckles and tried not to think about it, a mysterious someone slumped over a table, blood running down their nose with the needle still in the other hand.

“Can’t be a good business practice to off your regulars, but I guess that can’t be helped when you’re dealing drugs.” He mused to himself. After a month of working with Soo, it was clear that heroin was the deadliest thing she created. “What’s he look like? This Harper guy.”

“Like every other junkie living on the street. Why do you care kid?”

Jason whipped out his gun from the waistband of his pants and pointed it evenly at the first man’s chest without ever looking away. “Just answer the fucking question before I get mad.” He growled, finger tapping the trigger lightly. The one with the goatee responded by pulling out his gun, and snarling something at Jason. But the tattooed one just gave Jay a funny look.

“Hey hey— Whoa. Easy ese.” The tattooed guy said, raising both hands in the universal sign of ‘Don’t Shoot.’ “His name is Roy Harper I think, pasty, gangly sonovabitch with long red hair and usually wearing some stupid trucker hat.”

“I hear he’s a mutant.”

“Used to be one of those fucking superhero types, I heard, but now look at him. No better than the rest of us.” He scoffed, but Jason had stopped listening. Words weren’t his strong suit but Roy, that sounded right. So he had known… one of those hero types? How the hell? Had he really been in deep enough shit as a kid to get mixed up with capes?

Talia had told him not to go looking for his past. And she was right, it didn’t matter anymore, his past was just a distraction. But the opportunity was right there. What if this Roy had been his friend? And now he was hooked on some bad stuff. These guys said he was a regular, and if anyone knew what that looked like it was the sellers. Jason mulled this information over, chewing on the inside of his cheek thoughtfully before he finally made a decision. He slid his gun back into his waistband and gave the two of them a cheeky salute, tapping two fingers to his temple and then extending the hand towards them.

“Well, that’s all I need to know. Thanks a million you guys.”

Jason had learned (remembered?) a long time ago that if you wanted to find a junkie the best place to look was Chinatown, so that was his first stop. He wasn’t sure what was really driving him to find Roy, god knows he had more important things on his plate than some barely remembered junkie, but Jason had so few shreds of his old life left to him. No matter who he is, this Roy deserved better than dying alone in the gutter.

Anger boiled inside of him, as he swerved through lanes of Star City traffic in his motorcycle.

Just like home he thought bitterly pulling the hood of his sweatshirt up. Every big city in the world had their ‘bad parts of town’ and they were all pretty much the same, and no matter how hard he had tried he had never escaped — not really. He had made sure to park in the more touristy area because he wasn’t a complete dumbass and he didn’t want his bike stolen. From there he looked for the shadier areas, back alleys and rundown shops and the like. If you knew what to look for picking a drug dealer in a crowded street no problem. He watched a hooded man make a sale, palming off cash for a packet of white powder before he approached.

“You sellin’ smack?” He asked in a hushed voice, making a show of looking paranoid, and glancing around.

“Aren’t you a little young for H kid?” Great, a drug dealer with a conscience. Not where he expected a morality lecture.

“Who cares?” He snapped, crossing his arms. “If you’re too high and mighty to sell to a “kid” like me I’ll just go find someone else.”

“Hey, slow down it’s not like that. You have the money?” Jason reached into his pocket, then to his other and winced.

“Shit.”

“Sorry kid, you don’t have the cash you’re shit out of luck.”

“Please man! I just gotta find a buddy of mine, you know a guy named Roy Harper? He owes me big time, once I find him I’ll be able to pay the rest. Maybe you could float me until then?”

“No way in hell mijo, but if you want to get that money you’re owed be my guest. I know Harper and there’s a loft just south of here— old brick building where he and a couple’a other junkies go to shoot up. You go get your money and I’ll be right here.” Jason looked pained, ran a hand across his brow, where he didn’t even have to pretend to be sweating since it was hot as hell outside.

“Fine. Fuck you man.” He snapped, stalking off in the direction he had been pointed. The act dropped but his scowl didn’t. Shit. What the hell was he getting into. He shouldn’t care about some random ass junkie he didn’t even know anymore. So why did he anyway? Maybe he wanted to be the good guy for once. Maybe because he knew what it was like to die alone.

Either way he didn’t stop, not until he was in front of the boarded-up brick building and forcing the door open. There was probably a secret entrance people used, but when you had super strength you don’t need a secret entrance. The smell of garbage, mold, and piss hit him and he groaned out loud. Yep, just like home, he thought as he pulled his shirt up over his nose, and flicked on the flashlight on his phone. He had stayed in places like this, he remembered that now. Jason had suspected he was from the street for a while now and this was only confirming it. Honestly he wasn’t surprised; how could anyone forget a smell like that, how it clung to you wherever you went, filling your senses and suffocating you.

Jason picked his way through the building carefully. From what he could tell it was an old department store, leaking pipes drooping from the ceiling and half assembled mannequins watching him with their painted on eyes and Jason didn’t care for that shit at all. The dealer had said they shot up in the loft, so finding the first floor empty wasn’t surprising. He moved towards the stairs, his gaze sweeping across the empty room with what some might call paranoia. He just wasn’t a fan of dolls, mannequins, or bugs and could you blame him? No.

He was staring at a large black blob on one of the mannequins naked bodies trying to determine if it was a gargantuan cockroach or not when he stumbled on a disembodied mannequin head with a loud crash as he swore and grabbed the closest thing next to him. Which was a portion of the rotted wooden staircase, which he easily tore off as he fell.

“Fuck! Fuck shit son of a piss fucking bitch—“ He seethed, throwing the ruined wood to ground and jumping to his feet. Well if anyone thought they were alone in this building they sure as hell didn’t anymore. He was immensely grateful that no one had been there to see that as he brushed himself off and tried to calm down. “Okay, there was my heart attack of the day. Let’s not do this again.” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. He climbed the stairs, scanned the second floor before continuing upward. The building had five stories, and when he did finally get to the top floor he knew this was the right place. Tables were set up set up and littered with old Chinese food boxes and other garbage, with a couple of lamps scattered about, connected to long orange power strips that ran around the whole room. There was a shitty couch pushed up against the wall. It was clearly the place the dealer had been talking about, but it was empty, and judging by the smell of that take out, no one had been back here in days

“Damnit.” He hissed, climbing out onto the fire escape, unable to bear the smell any longer. The sun had set by now but it was still hot, street lights lighting up the city just as well as the sun. He took a moment to clear his head and think about where else he could look, probably the shelters, ask some other junkies if they knew Roy. When he stepped off the metal and landed in the road below he heard a low groan from behind a pile of trash and a couple of garbage cans.

“Unnnn…” Jason kicked the cans out of the way and the person who had been hiding behind it flinched backwards. Jason got a look at him from the light thrown down the alley by a passing car. He was scrawny, and dressed in a shitty tank top and tucker hat, with long red hair and green tattoos decorating his biceps.

“Roy.” He breathed out. Holy shit. Just seeing the guy’s face was bringing a burst of memories, if only scraps. Roy’s grin, his jawline when it was shaved, his laugh, Jason’s pulse racing at the sight of his arms…

Oh, god, oh god. Roy had been. His crush. Well, that answered the question of if dying had made him gay.

"Please tell me you're here to kill me,” present Roy moaned. This Roy was hardly recognizable from the snapshots remembered. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who had been to hell in these last few years.

“Nope. Sorry.” He reached out a hand to help Roy up, but he smacked it away.

“Fuck.” Roy swore vehemently, “If you’re not going to kill me then get me some goddamn drugs.” He whispered, his voice hoarse, his chapped lips cracking and bleeding. “Please, please please please. Common man, I’m dying here. I’ll do anything.” Jason grit his teeth and this time just fucking grabbed Roy.

“Not gonna do that either. Come on.”

“Get off me man! Let me go!” Roy snarled.

“I’m trying to save your life asshole!” Jason yelled back, shaking Roy violently, and sending him cross eyed.

“Fuck, oh fuck. Ouch it hurts, it hurts it hurts!” He sobbed, gripping his stomach and falling to his knees in pain. As he pulled Roy up once more another car drove past, once again casting it’s headlights down the alley and illuminating the them. Roy went pale and stumbled backwards.

“You’re—!!” He choked out, staring up at Jason in shock. “You’re supposed to be dead. No this isn't real, you’re dead.” He insisted to himself. Jason didn’t argue with him on that front, he was clearly going through withdrawal and right now Jason’s priority was to get him off the street. He picked Roy up easily, the guy was thin as a rail and even without super strength Jason probably still would have been able to lift him like he weighed nothing.

“Jason…? Jason I’m sorry.” Roy was babbling, clinging to the fabric of Jason’s sweatshirt desperately and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. This was a bad idea. If Roy ended up telling everyone he was alive that would really throw a wrench in things. Roy probably knew other mask types and that was a group he did not want up in his business.

“I don’t know who Jason is man, my name is Peter Reyes.” The lie felt wrong on his lips but it’s what he had to do. Better to let the world think he was still dead.

“Oh…”

“I think you’re going through withdrawal. How do you feel?”

“Cold, Shit— Ahn my gut is on fire.” He grimaced, and Jason nodded. All symptoms of heroin withdrawal.

“Alright, I’m gonna get you some place safe. Hold tight buddy.” He adjusted Roy on his shoulder, hoping the man wouldn’t throw up on his hoodie and walked south until he found a shitty motel. He helped Roy lean against the outside of the front desk and gave him a stern look.

“Wait here okay. I’m gonna get us a room.” Roy didn’t answer, instead he doubled over in pain his shoulders shuddering as tremors ran through his body.

The woman at the front desk didn’t even blink as she handed Jason the room key, and Jason figured she had seen a hell of lot weirder things. He dragged Roy up to room and to the bathroom, helping him kneel over to toilet as he began to wretch, holding his greasy hair out of his face.

Deja-vu made his head spin, the feeling like he’d been in this exact same situation before and when he looked down it wasn’t Roy puking into the shitty hotel toilet it was… some woman, with messy hair dyed bright red and smeared makeup. She looked like she had been crying, and looking at her made Jason feel angry and sad at the same time. She had the same track marks up her arms that Roy did, and the look she gave Jason was a complicated mix of pity and disgust.

“Drink some water.” Jason grunted, his brain snapping back to the present, to the man before him. “You need to stay hydrated.”

“Thanks…” Roy said wearily, taking the water bottle Jason pushed into his hands. He took a few slow sips, his hands still shaking before he asked “Do I know you? You said you’re not Ja— who I thought you were so who are you? I don’t know any Peter Reyes. Did Angel send you? Because you can tell him to go fuck himself.”

“Don’t know any angel. I’m just a guy who wants to help.”

“Yeah sure, and I'm Superman. What were you doing snooping around in that place anyway?” Even going through withdrawal he was still observant as hell. Jason had a feeling that Roy was a hell of a lot smarter than he let on.

“None of your business."

“Right, whatever guess I’m in no position to argue. So why are you doing this? I assume you’re trying to help me and you’re not actually a deranged psycho killer who brought me here to rape and murder me and then leave my disfigured body in the bathtub, because right now this whole situation kind of reads like a Criminal Minds episode.” Jason snorted at that and shook his head.

“Nah, you’re not worth the trouble.”

“Wow, fuckin’ rude.” Roy’s laugh was thin but genuine and he pushed himself up a little so he was leaning against the sink. “But seriously, what do you want?”

“Nothing.”

“I saw, fuh-fuck shit… I saw you jump out of that building. You a mutant?” He grunted gratefully when Jason brought over the comforter from off the bed and let him wrap himself in it. “You know about me? You gotta… That’s- that’s why you came. You want me to build you somethin’.” So he had a tech mutation or something? Jason was lucky that he had recognized Roy’s name, the fact that he couldn’t remember the details of his mutation— or if he was a mutant wasn’t surprising.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what is it. Why the fuck are you doing this?”

“Maybe I was hoping that you’d, y’know… Fall in love with me.” Jason wasn’t sure why he said it, and the second he did he felt like a fucking idiot, but he smiled boyishly and owned it. Roy laughed out loud when he said it and Jason liked that laugh.

“Oh yeah, that is such bullshit.” He said, grinning as he wiped his runny nose and scratched his face. “Trust me kid you don’t want me to fall in love with you. My ex-wife can tell you that much.”

Jason just shrugged in response, sitting down in front of Roy on the hard tile floor with a sigh.

“Can I ask you something?”

Roy raised a curious eyebrow but shrugged. “Sure.”

“Who’s— Who was Jason? The person you thought I was…” There was something in Roy’s eyes that he couldn’t place— grief maybe. Over some street rat kid like him?

“He was a kid I knew…” Roy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, shifting restlessly. “He was a good kid, he was smart, god he was so smart, and he was funny and brave, like crazy brave, like run into a burning house and save the puppy brave… and he died when he was fifteen.” Jason swallowed hard and looked down at his hands. “I used to be one of those superheroes you know, running around in a mask and shit— I know right, funny huh. I knew it was dangerous but none of that had ever seemed real until he… He saved my ass when we were kids, this one time in Pasadena he pushed me out of the way of some gunfire and ended up getting his dumb ass shot.”

Jason’s side tingled, his body remembering the sensation of a bullet passing through it. “He never let me hear the end of it, always making jabs at me reminding me how I owed him my life and how he got shot for me and shit but I never got to thank him, not genuinely you know? That eats at me every day. I think if he ever saw me now, and how I ended up he would kick my ass. ‘I saved your life for this? So you could become some piece of shit junkie?!’ but he showed us all what it really meant to be a hero. To wear the mask.” Roy shook his head to himself and Jason was shocked into silence. Was that really how he was remembered? As a hero? The thought left him shook to his very core and suddenly he couldn’t stand to hear about it anymore. He had to get away. He pushed himself up so violently it startled Roy.

“You don’t know that… Maybe he wasn’t as great as you think.” He said through his clenched jaw, his fists curled into a tight ball before he crossed the small distance to the hotel room door and slammed it behind him. He scrubbed angrily at his face, rubbing his eyes until he saw stars behind his eyelids. Then he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up, taking a long drag and letting it burn to the filter before he even considered going back inside that room. He smoked a second cigarette before he did, slower this time his hands no longer shaking.

This was a mistake. Coming to this city was a mistake, looking for Roy was a mistake. Fuck even just leaving Talia’s protection was a mistake. He would take being a blood bag for fucking Ra’s over this feeling. It felt like it was eating him inside out, hollowing him and filling the hole with molten rock. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to start a fight, he wanted to run. He smoked another cigarette instead.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!! He ground the cigarette out on the wall of the motel with venom (the stucco was already disgusting, another black mark wouldn’t make a difference) before he came back inside. The smell of cigarette smoke drifting in with him, clinging to his clothes and making Roy sit up straighter, his fingers itching at his arms idly.

“You good?”

“Yeah. Just needed a smoke.”

“Got one for me?”

“My last one, sorry.” It was a deadass lie and Roy knew it, but he didn’t push the issue. “I’m gonna order pizza. What do you want?”

“Pineapple, anchovies with mushroom.”

“You’re disgusting. No, fuck you we’re getting meat lovers.” The ghost of a smile played on Roy’s lips and he shrugged.

“Whatever you say bossman.”

#jayroy #mutant batfam au #hang me up to dry #mine #mine: writing #jason todd #roy harper #side note star city = LA

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nyxysabyss · 8 years ago

Text

LEVEL HORIZON; YEAR THREE 5/9; Reciprocity & Ensurient Amity

Chapter 22!

If I could make this go away, I would. If I could stand in your place, I wouldn’t hesitate. But I’m left with only one choice, and that’s to stand by your side through the end. I won’t waver, I can promise you that. ~Patch; Becca Fitzpatrick

Kuroo’s expression is flat as they approach the tavern and Koushi Sugawara wonders about the contact they are supposed to meet. He’s never seen the cat so stiff-backed and visibly on edge.

But then… they’ve all been on edge.

The last few hours since the snake came for Natsu have passed like sap in winter, and everyone has been wrapped in the same circling thoughts after Kuroo’d lectured Hinata about their scaly opponents. The little girl was caught in the grasp of a bunch of these awful monsters; how were they going to get her out?

Hinata hadn’t been able to stay still and had finally given up an hour in and begun a pacing loop around the village, his leveler shadowing him silently with his own wings pulled a little more taught with unease. Daichi had sat down with the larger cat and asked him everything he could possibly think of about snakes, determined to be as prepared as possible. Tanaka had settled at the table as well, his gaze fixed vacantly at a wall as he listened to Daichi and Kuroo, but his projected tranquility didn’t fool the thrush. The bald crow’s muscles running into his limbs were outlined in chiseled definition, betraying his tension, and Koushi’d known that the only reason he remained at that table instead of outside making village rounds with Feathers and Hinata was by sheer force of will.

The only one who’d seemed mostly unfazed was Kenma, so it was him that Koushi had gravitated toward to help keep himself more calm. When the thrush had asked him about it, the small cat had shrugged.

“This is how it always was back when Kuroo still actively hunted snakes. He was always gathering information and planning out the next move. This might not actually be the toughest rescue he’s attempted.” He’d murmured. Koushi had turned to stare at Kenma with surprise.

“Not the toughest? If this isn’t, then what was?” The golden cat had glanced at him briefly.

“Mine. For this to be as ugly as that was, he’d have to lose the other eye.”

“That’s how he got that?” Kenma’d nodded.

“He was lucky, that was all. The snake had two blades; it was sheer chance that he got him with the one not tipped with venom or things would have been drastically worse. Kuroo’s speaking from experience when he says not to bull rush these guys. He might be fine now, but it took him a few years to adjust.”

Suga’d promptly jumped when a knife had embedded itself in the floorboard beside them, and the only reason he didn’t leap defensively to his feet was because Kenma hadn’t batted an eye. He’d looked straight up unimpressed, actually, and Koushi’d glanced around in surprise. Nothing else in the room seemed to have changed; Daichi’d still been speaking with Kuroo and Tanaka’d still been resolutely studying the wall.

“Eh?” He’d asked with confusion and Kenma had simply stared blandly at the black cat.

“He gets cranky when I bring up his poor decisions.” The golden cat had said with a bored expression, and when Koushi’d looked back at the larger feline, sure enough, an ear had been fixedly swiveled in their direction. The black cat hadn’t been joking when he’d said he heard everything. Koushi’s face heats slightly at the memory of how the cat had pointed that out the other day.

When the sunlight had begun to angle and the restless younger level pair was just coming by on about their eighth lap around the little town, Kuroo had finally stood. Kageyama, Hinata, and Tanaka had been right there at his elbow in an instant, but the cat had huffed at them with amusement.

“You guys are awfully jacked when we’re just going to find something to eat.” He’d said and Hinata had balked immediately.

“What about the tavern and your contact?” Kuroo had fixed him with something of a very ‘Tsukishima’ smirk.

“Does it look like nightfall?” The redhead had scowled up at him, his nerves clearly fraying by the moment.

“It will be alright Hinata. We wouldn’t want to go into some fight on an empty stomach, anyway.” Koushi had said and Hinata had caved with a sullen scowl.

Thankfully, the meal had been brief and little more than pausing at street vendor stalls; the thrush didn’t think the redhead would have been able to sit through a full meal. Now as the last light is falling, they follow Kuroo to the tavern, everyone alert and on edge.

Koushi doesn’t think he’s ever seen the black cat quite so tense, what with the way his shoulders are pulled rigidly into line instead of their normal half-slouch, and his hands curl into loose fists instead of relaxed against his sides. Koushi wonders if he realizes that his unease is gearing up at least the youngest three avians; Daichi appears as controlled as ever.

But Kuroo pauses just outside, an ear cocking askance. Then the black cat fluidly kneels to the gravel outside the entrance, appearing to study the pebbles and grit, the ear still twitching off to the side. Koushi wonders if anyone else feels as awkward as he does, watching the large feline run a hand through the dust as if he were contemplating the meaning of life.

And then, quick as a viper, he spins and whips a small stone in the direction his ear had been twisted. It ricochets off the limb of a tree as movement from its branches draws their attention. The cat stalks toward it as a graceful form drops to the ground, the man fleet of foot and gracefully agile. Deep red hair frames his sharp face, but black triangular ears poke through the auburn locks. His rusty gold eyes take them in with hard focus.

The man turns and leads them to a secluded area down a dim alley before turning to face them once more. The low light thrown from the first evening lanterns casts the sharp angles of his face in steep shadow as his head tilts toward the black cat.

“Bold of you to bring people with you. You must not value their lives much.” He says conversationally and Kuroo scoffs.

“Save it, Mutt.” His insulting greeting is brisk and Koushi’s eyebrows rise.

A canine?

The man’s face darkens just a touch but his tone remains even when he addresses Kuroo as he comes to stand in front of him.

“I’m very selective of my contacts, Tetsurou, as you are well aware. It’s the reason I’ve survived this long, and I will remind you that it is expressly because of you that that list is so short.” Kuroo rolls his eyes, but Koushi’s brows draw down just a bit.

Tetsurou? These guys must have been… close back in the day. Not even Kenma calls him that. He doesn’t think he’s even heard that name more than once in the last three years.

“That was centuries ago.”

“And you weren’t the one who was under scrutiny for the next three hundred years.”

“No, I just had to drop off the grid to avoid a knife in the ribs.” Kuroo rebuttals and the man’s eyes narrow.

“You almost got me killed. I had to shut down nearly all communication lines and go dark. Do you have any idea how difficult it was to balance movements without igniting suspicion? Or the scope of damage you idiocy unleashed? You’re as much a reason for the snakes’ resurgence as that blasted Crow regime. I’ve ensured others’ silence for far less.”

“Tch. Don’t think I forgot the price you had for mine.”

“Obviously wasn’t high enough; you’re still around.”

“Enough, fox. You didn’t come all the way out here to trade threats.”

“Indeed. I came to see if you really did escape with your skin that day— though you are down an eye. And your choice in company has changed. What do you need, Cat?”

“Information.”

“Obviously. What are you offering?”

“We will take down the nest that’s here.”

“Bull. The last figure I had for this place is a couple years old so it’s no longer accurate. Since sentries have cracked down in the southern areas, this hub has boomed. I don’t care if your friends are all highly trained mercenaries. You and six…” He says before eyeing the golden cat disdainfully, “five people won’t have a chance against four hundred snakes— and I guarantee that’s a low number. I hope you have something better or this was a wasted trip.” Kuroo releases a huff of frustration, and Koushi frowns at the odd slight against Kenma. But neither he nor Kuroo even seem to notice it and the black cat is replying without hesitation.

“What makes you think it’s only us?” The fox’s expression flattens.

“You stormed the main western slave port alone. I can’t see you having gained an affinity for the masses.”

“They had Kenma.” The black cat returns and Koushi knows just by the sound that he’s on the defensive.

“And if you’d used your head, you could have simply had me buy him and release him back to you instead of quite flagrantly announcing your existence to the rest of the snake world as well as your connection to me.”

“Whatever, it worked, didn’t it? We both got out, so I wouldn’t be so fast to think the rest of us couldn’t take down this place.”

“You’re a fool, Tetsurou. Do you have anything better to offer than a weightless promise of pulling this nest to its knees?” Kuroo looks to the side and scowls.

“I knew you’d be a bitch to work with.” He mutters before looking back at the sharp gold eyes. “How about a free pass.”

“To what, your funeral?” Kuroo rolls his eyes.

“If you are ever caught by sentries from the crow rookery, ask for Iwaizumi. Any crow in their ranks should know him.”

Koushi has to focus to keep his surprise off his face. It somehow makes him uncomfortable, selling Iwaizumi’s protection without the sentry leader’s consent or knowledge. The fox’s brow creases.

“I know him. He’s just a sentry leader.”

“Not just a sentry leader. He seems low profile, but he has the ear of the Grand King. You drop his name and you should be afforded some clemency— at least temporarily. When you see him, tell him you are Kuroo’s source. It might not get you out, but it will likely keep you alive.” The fox’s eyebrow rises.

“You must not trust this rookery rat much if you aren’t even on a first name basis with him.”

“Funny. I place exactly zero trust in you.” The fox smirks and huffs through his nose.

“You surprise me, Cat. But if you know someone that high in their ranks,” His burnished golden gaze slides across the rest of them calculatingly, “Sentries. You’ve been flying under the radar with sentries. How times change, huh?” He says with a predatory smirk.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What are you doing here, Cat?”

Koushi sees the tension slide just a touch in Kuroo’s shoulders and knows the mood has shifted; the fox is asking in earnest.

“Covert entry. We need to know layouts and the best way in.”

“What happened to toppling the nest?”

“Leave that to me. I’ve got one more ace up my sleeve that no matter your asking price, I won’t reveal. What I need from you is details.”

“Well, my earlier admonition still stands. There were over four hundred in this nest at last count, but that was before the crows cracked down on them a couple years back. The actual number is probably somewhere closer to five. You might have a death wish, but what about them? They have any experience with snakes?”

“No.” The fox’s expression creases into a scowl.

“Seriously, give me something to work with.” He mutters, running a hand through his hair before fixing the black cat with a hard look.

“The rookery rats figured out early on after their first few attempts to blast the network in the south that ignorance isn’t a good gamble. A few casualties in and they made adjustments. I hope you remember that if you’re caught, I’ll gut you myself to keep you out of torture. Them, too.”

“Capture probably isn’t going to be an issue.”

“You sure about that? That one ain’t native.” The fox says canting his head toward Hinata. The black cat glances at himself and the others.

“Unlikely. His leveler is the crow. Of the seven of us here, there are three pairs. All the same,” Kuroo says to them his gaze landing solidly on Tanaka, “He will kill you if you are caught.”

For the second time in as many minutes, the thrush is surprised at the information the cat volunteers, and knows by the dark crease in Kageyama’s brow that he isn’t happy about it either. Still, they’ve opted to trust Kuroo’s insight and lead, so he keeps silent. All the same, Koushi understands why he fixes on the bald crow; if either half of a level pair bites it, both will, but the scowling crow doesn’t have one. Tanaka shrugs.

“If we can get Natsu out, then I can probably live with that.”

The fox’s eyes flash sharply, and Koushi wonders if he imagines the shadow of anger that crosses his face. But it’s gone in an instant and the fox glances at Kuroo with exasperation.

“Another rescue mission? Didn’t you learn from last time? Who is it and I’ll just buy them for you.” He says with a hard frown and an annoyed shake of his head.

“It’s my sister.” Hinata says stepping forward and the fox frowns, taking in the redhead a little more fully.

“Exotic, which means expensive...but doable. Who picked her up?”

“No one, she’s been here for centuries.” Kuroo says and the fox watches him for a long moment and then raises a hand to his temple.

“I take it back. She’s a nest egg. Usually nothing short of a faction kingfish can get someone to release those.” His brow furrows in thought before he huffs and looks back at them.

“Well, at least it’s an extraction. That will increase your chances. Asset retainment isn’t located in the main nest, so you will have fewer snakes to contend with… wait, if she’s been with them so long, how did you find out she was here?”

“She found us in town. The snakes were using her as bait.” Kuroo says but the fox frowns.

“Not likely. They don’t bait close to their strongholds. They get the wrong person and they run the risk of drawing retaliation from the surrounding population. She might be a plant.” Hinata shakes his head firmly.

“She’s not!” Kuroo looks mildly affronted at the redhead’s outburst.

“We don’t think she is. She’s quite young to be able to pull off an act like that.” He murmurs.

“Then she’s a blind. When they need someone to run errands, snakes sometimes use captives that will blend into their surroundings to help hide their actual numbers. People don’t question their movements and activities when they don’t feel their presence. But if she’s a blind, then she’s almost hardwired to obey them. She’ll have been through enough punishments to ingrain it into her head that she can’t escape even if she has the freedom to move around.”

“The snake caught her talking to us. How do we know she won’t be transferred or something in case we come after her?” Daichi asks.

“They are already right next to one of the biggest nests in the vicinity, why would they feel the need to flee? Five and a half people is hardly a viable threat and not nearly enough to make them feel pressured enough to move from the shadow of safety the nest grants.” The fox says and Koushi is momentarily distracted by his second shot at the small cat, but they again ignore it. So he does, too.

“If she’s a, um… ‘blind’... then would she still be where they keep the rest of the captives?” Koushi asks uncertainly.

“Most likely, but it’s not a guarantee.” The fox says and turns to Kuroo.

“Start there. If she’s in trouble for interacting with outsiders, I’m confidently comfortable saying that’s your best bet. If she isn’t, then I hope your ‘plan to crush the nest’ isn’t just you talking out your ass, because that’s the next place to look. I hope you intend to brief these guys before they head into this hell; they will die horrible deaths if they aren’t prepared.” Kuroo nods.

“That’s a given. Tell me about the retaining outpost.”

The fox nods and produces a quill and a couple sheets of paper. He snags Kenma by the arm, making Kuroo tense, but the fox merely turns him and flattens one of the papers against his back. It’s a curious action that, combined with his earlier remarks, gives Koushi the distinct impression that he thinks very little of the small cat, and he wonders how Kuroo can just bite his tongue, because he sure wants to say something. It makes him think there might have been more to their last encounter than either have divulged through their volleying insults.

The black cat keeps his expression frigidly neutral, however, and Kenma’s own features barely change at the fox’s manhandling. With a flicker of surprise, Koushi realizes by their collaborative lack of reaction that quiet restraint is the price of this advantage. In an instant, he realizes why these two are a level pair… even if it calls for quietly suffering the fox’s blatant disrespect toward Kenma to ensure his full cooperation, they still work as a seamless team to secure it. The revelation pairs with the fox’s actions and Koushi is inexplicably certain the black cat and the canine somehow have a far more complicated history than just working partners and contacts.

Placing the quill tip to the parchment with swift, precise strokes, the fox begins a sketch.

“The holding point is a league north of the actual nest, situated on the bank of the river gorge. It’s close enough to provide immediate backup if an alarm should go up, so know that if you trip it, you will rapidly find yourself overwhelmed by hostile company. It’s mostly underground so you will be nearly on top of it before you see it; the best way to approach is from the north. Don’t try climbing the gorge cliffs, they usually have guards posted that side. Alarm stations are here and here…” The fox rattles off, still scratching away while Kuroo and the others crowd around him.

Koushi watches as the fox gives an in-depth explanation of both the holding point and the actual nest, Kuroo or Daichi periodically pausing him to voice a question. He doubts that Daichi missed the curious tension between the two cats and the fox—doubts any of them did, but he marvels at how they all follow the two felines’ lead and calmly disregard the fox’s actions to focus on the task at hand. They are, after all, trying to coordinate a rescue attempt.

It’s only a few minutes before the fox straightens and releases Kenma from table duty.

“There’s not much else I can tell you. But…” He reaches into a pocket and pulls a couple small vials out and hands them to the black cat with a single nod. “If any of you catch a slow fatal hit.” He says gruffly. Kuroo closes his hand around them with a returning nod before pocketing them.

“We will need a way to escape quickly. Can you hook us up with a means of transportation? Something that can handle flightless individuals?” The fox nods.

“Leave it to me. I will have it together by the large oak just outside town tomorrow evening for you.”

“Tomorrow? We have all the information now; what’s keeping us?” Hinata asks with a frown.

“Trust me Shrinky-dink, she ain’t going anywhere. You now have everything I can provide at your fingertips. Use the time you have to come up with a sound strategy to make it work for you.” The fox says before nodding at the black cat.

“I expect to hear that this nest has been decimated in three days’ time, Cat.” He says with a wry smirk. Kuroo raises a hand in silent farewell and the fox melts into the darkness outside the ring of lantern light.

Kageyama turns to Kuroo with a frown.

“Who was that guy?” Koushi wonders if the cat realizes the crow setter’s question is probably far more than just a question of ‘how he knows so much about snakes’.

“That, Feathers, is the top bookkeeper who presides over most of their operations. He’s got a bottomless memory and catches every detail. He’s nearly one of the kingpins of the snake ring himself, but you won’t find another person on the continent who knows as much as he does about the intimate workings of it.”

“He works inside the trafficking network? As in helps them commit their crimes by assisting with record keeping?” Tanaka asks incredulously.

“I get it, though.” Koushi breaks in softly, drawing their attention. “He can do so much more from the inside.” Kuroo nods before turning to Daichi and handing him the paper with the holding point sketched out on it.

“I will catch up with you shortly. I have one more raven I have to send.” He says taking Kenma’s arm with a mild frown. The two quickly disappear, and the thrush wonders if Kuroo is off to offer him a groveling apology for having to put up with the fox. Koushi ducks his head with a smile and tosses an arm over Daichi’s shoulders.

“Shall we go argue over the best way to do this until he gets back?” He asks lightly.

“Mm.” His leveler murmurs and they head back to their inn.

The thrush watches his leveler with quiet fondness, knowing that he’s probably humming as badly beneath that calm facade as Hinata and Tanaka. Koushi knows Daichi. He’s entirely capable of extreme violence when provoked, but he’s cautious, too.

The silver-haired setter knows he and his leveler aren’t fundamentally the same. If it comes to it, Koushi will accept death with grace because everyone dies… but Daichi will not.

Daichi is loyal, devoted, and kind… and heartbreakingly selfless for the things he cares the most about. When it came time to make the decisions that will place both himself and Koushi in mortal peril, the thrush is positive he will waver.

Koushi smiles slightly. He might be Daichi’s little ‘silver star’, but Daichi was Koushi’s entire sky.

The grey-haired setter isn’t afraid of death. He’s walked this world for hundreds of years and he’s never once been afraid of anything when Daichi was beside him.

He’s also selfish. He will readily put himself to the hazard, knowing full well that if he dies, so will his leveler. That is what keeps that fear of death at bay. The fact that he won’t be facing it alone means it will just be another adventure they share.

And it’s because he knows Daichi so well that he knows the taller crow will understand and never hold it against him. If Daichi were fighting only on his own behalf, he’d be able to think the same… but Daichi’s never been able to sideline Koushi, and so the thrush will step up and do it for him.

It will be a last resort, of course— the thrush loves life, and would very much like to live this one out to its complete fulfillment— but he will not shy from the impossible decisions. He will make the calls Daichi cannot, and he will fight with everything he’s worth for the people he loves.

Koushi leans into Daichi a little more, reveling in the contact. He really does love this crow. Daichi had set him free so very long ago and having known what it’s like to have no inhibitions places the thrush at peace. His eyes sparkle, just a bit, a silent challenge to the weaver of fate, a dare to bring her worst, because Daichi stands beside him.

He doesn’t fear death.

Level Pair ; Chapter 1; Chapter 21; Chapter 23

A/N: So. Um, foreshadowing much?

Eh, never mind that, how about my contact? I wasn't sure how I felt about my fox in the end. The more I wrote his character, the more I hated him. I was going to name him and then I ws like, yeah, he's the master of secrets and information, why would he tell his name to anyone? And you guys know how a character can kind of just go off and do its own thing on you? Well, my fox did and as he fleshed out a little more through this scene, I was like, 'I don't like you and I'm not sorry I didn't name you'. He started out this grey character with a peculiar proclivity for details and ended up... well, this. I was so annoyed with him that I was editing this right up until my posting deadline which is now. Apologies if there are errors -_-

Have to go play VB, so I am out for the night; have a good one you guys!

#Level Pair #level horizon #Haikyuu #sugawara koushi #Daisuga #kuroo tetsurou #fanfiction #long post #seriously the fox irritates me #he totally made this chapter way more challenge than it needed to be.

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intheuthanhbinh · 4 years ago

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Korean language Girls Have Many Qualities

The Woods of Life and The Tree of Knowledge and Malignant mentioned in the Book of Genesis are actually referring to knowing what is awful from precisely what is wrong. I was confused, disappointed, and disappointed. They absolutely adore alcohol and party.

Green Peril, Stereotypes, Ads, And Hope For The near future

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Part two Biblical Origin Of Far east People

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Courting Korean Females

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Tham khảo bài viết gốc tại: Korean language Girls Have Many Qualities

source https://intheuthanhbinh.com/korean-language-girls-have-many-qualities/

#in cờ #in áo đồng phục #in thêu thanh bình

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bookmark-it · 6 years ago

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Plot Upheaval?

A little historical context:

The Karstlanders/Karstlandic Kings were a group of Viking-like people who sailed from the North (Karstland, specifically which, duh) out to the Wider Seas basically looking for places to conquer and colonize (assholes). Eventually, they arrived at the northern tip of the continent once known as Timur.

Northern Timur was made up of three to five distinct civilizations (depending on the time period and who you asked. The Karstlanders took over the region and divided it into three “states” - New Westmoreland, Gettonsgate & Yaduru (later shortened to Gettons & Yaduru), and St. Galbert’s Island.

New Westmoreland was originally home to the Pagatowar people (who called the land Umnepo). Gettons & Yaduru was originally just Yaduru. The Karstlanders invaded, but couldn’t completely defeat the Da-rai warrior tribes, which is how Yaduru exists as an independent city-state to this day. St. Galbert’s (originally called Nilam by its native peoples, the Orang batu) is an island mostly used for agriculture and has remained so even in modern times.

The Karstlanders unified these states into a single nation, called Trinnea, nearly 213 years ago, but they’re still often refereed to as the Karstland States or the Karstlandic Triadica.

In Karstland itself, they’re derogatorily called the Leftover States.

Why does all that history bullshit matter?

Part of the Karstlanders’ motivation for conquest (besides the usual), was the search for untapped sources of viv, their word for naturally occurring, raw/unrefined magical energy. Basically, viv is to magic what crude oil is to petroleum.

The Karstlanders found plenty of viv, and opened several large Ley Lines (the term for stores of refined viv/usable Magic) across Trinnea.

But they wanted more.

So the Karstland Kings broke a huge taboo, one that existed across every culture of the world: they pierced the Veil, broke the Boundary, and sailed over the Last Horizon and into the Realm of the Other Folk, the Hidden People, The Fae...in hopes of finding more Magic.

Three Karstlandic ships sailed into Faerie Territory: the Alchemist, the Archbishop, and the Artificer.

Only the Artificer survived to see landfall.

How do Humans survive in Faerie Land?

Terrible, unnatural storms battered the ships for three days straight. And even more strangely, once the sun set on that first night on the Otherside, it never rose again. There in Faerie Land, it was eternally night. The Karstlanders didn’t recognize any stars/constellations in the sky and, even more disconcertingly, there was no moon.

Finally, the relentless storms calmed. The Artificer’s captain, Sir Yancy Harken Toddleburr, recalled the moment in his ship’s log in a passage that is now famous, and a popular recitation piece in finishing schools back home in Karstland.

He writes:

“The water of this cursed, endless sea is wholly unnatural. The foreign sky above meets it [the water] at the horizon and is devoured by its waves....no lite [sic] reflects from its surface, like the eyes of a dead man...not even our bespelled torches can pierce its depths...this an evil place, and no man belongs here.”

Land, ho!

After an indeterminate time adrift, land was sighted, but it was a strange ass sight. The land literally glowed, a bright, undeniable orange, a beacon above the light-less waves. The orange color is why the Karstlanders named the new land Meteoria. Modern science has determined that the soil in Meteoria is highly ferrous (lots of iron molecules) and contains high concentrations of meteoric iron. (Rebekah says: This ties into the fact that iron is a useful ward against fae kind, in the soil it is not harmful to them, but when extracted, refined, and wielded by humans i.e. taken from its natural state, it is harmful to fairy folk).

The Karstlanders disembarked and began their exploration. They didn’t have to look very hard - the land was brimming with viv. It was also brimming with Otherfolk: Seelie, Unseelie, Demons, Monsters, Ghosts, Spirits, all kinds of non-humans.

So what did the humans do? Well...they just did what they’d always done of course: conquer, fragment, destabilize, colonize. They began a systemic destruction of the native Fae populations using techniques they’d “perfected” with the native Pagatowar of New Westmoreland, the Da-rai of Yaduru, and the Orang batu of Nilam.

Over hundreds of years of colonization, only a small area of Meteoria was left for the Fae, a bit of land to the North that the Karstlanders couldn’t tame. The Humans called it The Wildness, but the Fae knew it as the lair of the Wilder Queen, Land Spirit of the faerie realm.

The Wildness was under her direct protection, because within its depths, beat her Heart, the very kernel of the earth. If the Karstlanders ever got a hold of it, they could "tame” her, the Wilder Queen, and finally claim the once Fae-owned land completely for themselves. They haven’t managed it...yet.

Despite the Wilder Queen’s protection, the Wildness is not a Fae paradise.

Destruction of Fae habitats and relocation of all different kinds of Fae has forced long-feuding factions to co-exist. Seelie and Unseelie, Trouping and Solitary, Friendly and Malicious, Night and Day...all together in a small area. The Wildness isn’t just dangerous for Humans, but for Faekind as well.

Okay? Why do I care?

Shortly after its founding, Meteoria was used as a penal colony for the Karstland States. It was a dangerous place to settle, what with Fae running all about, as well as a LITERALLY hostile environment (The Wilder Queen wasn’t going to relinquish her control easily). The Karstland Kings figured it’d be better if Prisoner-workers died fighting to settle the colony rather than “real” people/citizens.

Modern day Meteoria is a colony in flux. Ninety-eight percent of the land is "civilized”, with human!free-settlers and human!prisoner-workers living in relative peace. It is still in use as a penal colony for the Karstland states, though now, about 40% of the prisoner-workers aren’t “shipped in” but residents of Meteoria, themselves. The current royal governor, Niveus Borscheid, is determined to be the one that finally fully “civilizes” Meteoria so it can elevate itself from penal colony to economical powerhouse, maybe one that could even challenge it’s mother country.

But that’s easier said than done because the 2% of Uncivilized Meteoria is a bitch of a place. It’s comprised of the Fringes and the Wildness itself. The Fringes are where the Human and Fae populations are most likely to mingle. It is an extremely dangerous place for Humans (and Fae). Its the considered the front lines of the battle for the Wilder Queen’s heart, a battle that’s been going on for nearly 120 years (by human measurements).

The Fringe is also home to a few “Weird Towns” where Humans and Fae co-exist. There’s even ghastly rumors in the civilized world of some Humans breeding with Fae to create...Halfmen.

It is known that such things happened in Meteoria’s past, as a way to breed some civility into the Fae. But it was an uncouth time then. Besides, back in the day such couplings were highly regulated. Humans only interbred with the Fair Folk, the Good Neighbors as they were sometimes called; the Fae who were beautiful, kind, benevolent - those who fell in line with Humanity’s standards of beauty and morality.

Now, in modern times, such couplings are considered about as charitably as interracial marriages are in our world. Every pretty human girl knows that the best way to get “revenge” on her family, is to bring home some Fae boy or girl.

A map of “civilized” Meteoria...

The capital is Port Grace. This is where prisoner-workers first arrive in country. It is also where their labor is sold at the famous/infamous Hipplethwaite Square (Labor) Market.

Besides Port Grace, there are several other medium to large cities in Meteoria. In the southern marshlands (where Port Grace is located), there is Iron Station to the northeast, and in the west are the "princess cities" of Ernestine and Rohesia.

The middle part of the island is predominantly agrarian. It's mostly farming villages, but there is one town larger than the rest, Crossings, where a huge farmers' market/agricultural festival is held every full moon. Crossings is large enough that it crosses the Needle River in three places (hence the name): once in Slurry near the Midland Ley Line, once in the Old Town, right across from Halyard's Chapel, and then again near Southgate.

Between Crossings and the west coast are several towns: Ralston, Moss Fenning, and Badwater. There are two notable ports along the western shoreline: St. Winston and Kettlesbottom Shoals.

The eastern part of Meteoria is taken up by the craggy Mossbacks, a range of green mountains known for their rugged terrain/viv mining industry. The biggest mine in all Meteoria is in the Mossback town of Jubilee. Other mining settlements include Little Holler, Travers, and Compromise. The biggest "city" out east is Asheton, named for frontiersman/explorer, Barnabas Ashe. Asheton sits at the bottom of the Salter-Erskine Escarpment, and is known as the "grand foyer" of the Mossbacks.

The northern most tip of Meteoria is taken up by the Wildness, a completely uninhabitable swath of land overrun with magical beings.

The biggest permanent settlement out that way is a Fringe town called Last Stop because that's where the Shooting Star Line (name of the only transcontinental railway) ends. Its the terminus for all train traffic in Meteoria.

Between Last Stop and the Wildness is the Fringe Land.

So how does this new information change things?

It makes the Gauntlet more concrete: the Human challengers will have to fight off hostile fae and the Wilder Queen

Owusu and Nona (J.J.’s new name, which I will explain in more detail in a separate post) are still human. I chose to do this because it seems shitty to have Fae be a metaphor for native populations but, like, not include (Fictional) native humans. The Karstlanders screwed over everybody, humans and Fae.

Taufan has Fae heritage. She is Orang bunian (basically the Southeast Asian version of Elves). Her ancestors intermarried with humans as part of the “Civilization Programs” in which “acceptable fae” and humans intermarried to create Halfmen, hopefully easing relations between the humans and the Fae. As a Bunian, Taufan has a natural affinity for all types of magic, unnatural beauty, and innate healing abilities.

Rafi is a “brute” or “mongrel” - a mix of human and several “unsavory” Fae. Specifically, Rafi is a quarter human, a quarter giant, a quarter ogre, and a quarter Duende (Hispanic gnome-like peoples). Her “bad”/”muddy” heritage is blamed for her issues with reading/using Sigils. It’s also why she’s encouraged to join the army. She’s big and strong (6′4′‘ and jacked as shit) and dumb and not fully human, so if she dies, it’s not that big of a deal (according to popular thought).

#world building #Gauntlet verse #owusu #taufan #rafi #nona #the wilder queen

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classicfilmfreak · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on http://www.classicfilmfreak.com/2017/04/20/stagecoach-1939-starring-john-wayne-claire-trevor-and-thomas-mitchell/

Stagecoach (1939) starring John Wayne, Claire Trevor and Thomas Mitchell

“Now, folks, if we push on, we can be in Apache Wells by sundown. . . . Then it’s only a hoot and a holler into Lordsburg. We got four men who can handle firearms—five with you, Ringo. Doc can shoot if sober.” — Marshal Curly Wilcox

Like a number of other films in Hollywood’s greatest year, 1939, Stagecoach has a number of distinctions that makes it one of the great American films—of America and in the spirit of Americana, drawing upon folklore and becoming, itself, a part of movie folklore. While forever regarded as a “B” Western, mainly because of its low budget, it’s a label deemed unfair by many. It’s much more than a “B” Western.

Stagecoach is director John Ford’s first sound Western, since at least two silent films, The Iron Horse (1924) and 3 Bad Men (1926), are of some distinction. One of his greatest Westerns, period, Stagecoachis the first of seven he would film in Monument Valley. “My favorite location,” he said in a 1964 interview. “I feel at peace there. I have been all over the world, but I consider this the most complete, beautiful and peaceful place on earth.” Cheyenne Autumn (1964) would be his last Western, and the last filmed in the Valley.

This area of the eastern Utah-Arizona border became Ford’s trademark, and for a while respected as his personal property until other directors began borrowing the landscape. The backdrop of Stagecoach’s main title is, in fact, Monument Valley, behind alternate views of Indian horsemen and the U.S. Cavalry on the move. Then, the credits concluded, the evocative prehistoric stillness is broken by two men on horseback moving, though distantly, toward Bert Glennon’s camera. Glennon shot a variety of Ford movies, including The Prisoner of Shark Island (1936), The Hurricane (1937) and Rio Grande (1950). The stagecoach will traverse the Valley at least three times during the film.

In Stagecoach, Ford delineates the dangers for a group of disparate, and often desperate, passengers in a cross-country trip by stage. For the Mormons in Wagon Master (1950), the means of transportation is covered wagons as they encounter stranded travelers, a lovely damsel, the expected bad guys and, of course, Indians. Men move about mainly on horses in The Searchers (1956), both the isolated settlers and a lone horseman from the past who comes calling at a small prairie dwelling.

The West Ford portrays in these last three films had largely faded by 1962’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, where the critical means of transportation, the railroad, symbolizes both the civilizing of the frontier and the annihilation of the West as folklore. The film represents a darkening of the director’s view of his beloved West, and, mostly set-bound, Liberty is the only one of these four films not shot, partly or entirely, in Monument Valley.

The mention of John Ford implies, for all time it seems, John Wayne. After seeing Wayne in Howard Hawks’ Red River (1948), Ford said, “I never knew the big son of a bitch could act.” It was a typical “compliment” of the often cruel, sadistic director, and Wayne was, for him, a lifelong whipping boy. Beyond the verbal abuse was a deeply embedded affection, and they made twenty-four films together, though, granted, not all are Westerns. Wayne made a total of over eighty in the genre during his career, which began in 1926—not with a Western, however—and ended in 1976 with The Shootist, a Western which portrayed a West that, finally and irrevocably, had disappeared.

After years of making down-in-the dust “B” Westerns for Monogram and Mascot Pictures, though sometimes appearing in minor roles in “A” movies, Wayne made Stagecoach at “only” thirty-two, launching his career. Even in Stagecoach, he takes second billing to Claire Trevor, the highest paid star in a cast that includes Thomas Mitchell, Andy Devine, John Carradine, Tim Holt, Hank Worden and Jack Pennick. Most would become part of Ford’s stock company of favorite supporting players.

Stagecoach is an early version of The High and the Mighty (1954), Airport (1970), The Poseidon Adventure (1972), Murder on the Orient Express (1974) and many other films where a cross-section of society endures, and usually survives, possible peril on a long journey. Or, in the likes of Grand Hotel(1932) and Separate Tables (1958), the location may be stationary, and while not necessarily implying physical danger, the equally confined occupants encounter their various phobias, anxieties and jealousies.

In the 1880s, six individuals board a stage in Arizona Territory for Lordsburg in New Mexico Territory. Although, even by that time, the characters were time-worn clichés, the actors are so perfectly cast and their performances so polished that all handicaps are overcome. It helped that Ford often scripted his films knowing in advance who would play the parts and matched the actors with the characters accordingly.

The main title is typically Fordian, full of American folks songs. The tunes are “Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie” and “Jennie with the Light Brown Hair,” with alternating views of Apache (actually Navajo) horsemen and the U.S. Cavalry on the move—and Indian drum-like music. These and other such tunes will support most of the score.

When stagecoach driver Buck (Devine) informs the town marshal, Curley Wilcox (George Bancroft), that the shotgun guard is off tracking down the Ringo Kid (Wayne), who has escaped prison and is searching for Luke Plummer (Tom Tyler), the murderer of his father and brother, Wilcox volunteers to ride shotgun.

First of the passengers to board is a prostitute, Dallas (Trevor). Being chased out of town by the ladies’ Law and Order League, she asks alcoholic physician Doc Boone (Mitchell) if the ladies can force her to leave. Boone, who can’t pay his rent and has abandoned his office, says “We are the victims of a foul disease called social prejudice, my child.”

Arm in arm, they walk to the waiting stage, accompanied by one of John Ford’s favorite hymns, “Shall We Gather at the River?” Usually rendered at his frequent movie funerals, it now appears in the soundtrack as a comic march, both a little risqué and slightly tipsy.

Also making the journey are whiskey salesman Samuel Peacock (Donald Meek) and a snobbish Easterner, the pregnant Lucy Mallory (Louise Platt), on the way to meet her military husband.

At the last moment, a Southerner, Hatfield (Carradine), boards after what he interprets as an inviting smile from Lucy. Later, when Boone refers to his medical service in the recent Civil War as the “War of the Rebellion,” Hatfield corrects him: it is the “War for the Southern Confederacy.”

A cavalry unit led by Lieutenant Blanchard (Holt) arrives with news that Geronimo and the Apaches are on the warpath and that they will escort the stage to Lordsburg. “Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie” is the leitmotiv for shots of the stage crossing the landscape.

At the edge of town, banker Ellseworth Gatewood (Berton Churchill) flags down the stage. He has stolen $50,000 from his own bank.

Further along the trail—eighteen minutes into the film—the Ringo Kid greets the stage with a single rifle shot. (Although the scene is obviously in brush country, possibly Chatsworth, Los Angeles, the first view of Wayne twirling his rifle—a rapid tracking shot, ending in a close-up—is filmed against a process screen of Monument Valley.) Ringo’s horse has gone lame. Marshal Wilcox arrests him and asks for his rifle. “You may need me and this Winchester,” Ringo says. “Saw a ranch burin’ last night.” He surrenders his rifle and sits on the floor of the already full coach.

At a stopover at Dry Fork, Mrs. Mallory resents eating with a prostitute, but Ringo sits beside Dallas. Mrs. Mallory, Hatfield and Gatewood move to the other end of the table. En route to Apache Wells, Mrs. Mallory further snubs Dallas’ concern for her health. Hatfield offers her some water, but instead of giving her the canteen Wilcox passes down from the driver’s seat, he fills his folding silver cup for her. Yet when Dallas asks for water, Hatfield extends the canteen. So much for this Southern “gentleman.”

At Apache Wells, Mrs. Mallory learns that her husband has been wounded in battle and taken to Lordsburg. She faints, inducing labor, and through his drunken stupor, Doc Boone delivers a baby girl. Ringo asks Dallas to marry him. She doesn’t reply, but the next morning she accepts. Not wishing to leave Mrs. Mallory and the baby, she tells Ringo she’ll stay and meet him later.

Ringo escapes, but when he sees smoke signals, he returns to warn the stage passengers, who re-board and, now without the escorting cavalry unit, reach Lee’s Ferry. The Apaches have killed the station-keeper and his family. After crossing a river and believing they are safe, the travelers are attacked by the Indians. An arrow enters the coach and strikes Peacock.

During the seven minutes as the Indians chase the coach, Buck is wounded and everyone soon runs out of ammunition. Just as Hatfield is preparing to shoot Mrs. Mallory to spare her a ghastly death from the Indians, he is fatally shot. At this moment the U.S. Sixth Cavalry arrives, and the stage continues on safely to Lordsburg.

The stagecoach chase would justify an exciting, fitting climax. What could be better? But John Ford must tie up the many loose ends in the remaining twenty minutes of film. First, Mrs. Mallory learns her husband’s wounds are not serious and she thanks Dallas for taking care of her baby. Peacock, who survived the arrow, invites everyone to his home in Kansas City. Gatewood is arrested. And Dallas, who hasn’t told Ringo about what she does for a living, leads him to her part of town. He still wants to marry her.

But Ringo has one last thing to do. Reminiscent of the central shootout in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance—both at night—Ringo walks down the street toward Luke Plummer and his two brothers (Vester Pegg and Joe Rickson). Their slow, edgy strides are underpinned by some actual original music. As Ringo drops to the ground to fire, the film cuts to Dallas and only shots are heard. “Ringo! Ringo! Ringo!” she cries. Ford temporarily misleads the audience and shows an apparent triumphant Luke entering the saloon, only to collapse dead on the floor. Ringo has killed all three of the Plummers.

Ringo, having given his word not to escape and expecting to end up in prison, returns to Wilcox. Boone and Wilcox are waiting with a buckboard. After Ringo has said good-bye to Dallas, the marshal suggests she might “like to ride a ways with the Kid.” After Dallas climbs aboard, Boone and Wilcox throw rocks at the horses and shout, sending the two animals off at a gallop and giving Ringo his freedom and a presumed happy life with Dallas.

The signature trademark of Stagecoach is not the long coach chase by the Indians, however exciting and epoch-making it may be, but by its central stunt. Yakima Canutt has two “performances” in the sequence. In the more famous one, dressed as an Indian, he leaps from a running horse to the lead pair of animals in a six-horse team. He is “shot” by Ringo, falls, grasps the harness and drags his feet between the two lead horses. Ringo shoots again. Canutt lets go of the harness and the horses and coach pass over him.

In his own words:

You have to run the horses fast (35- to 37 m.p.h.), so they’ll run straight. If they run slow, they move around a lot. When you turn loose to go under the coach, you’ve got to bring your arms over your chest and stomach. You’ve got to hold your elbows close to your body, or that front axle will knock them off.

After the coach passes over him, he attempts to stand up, then falls and remains inert, to show a dummy hadn’t been used. From the flat plain of Lucerne Dry Lake in the Mojave Desert, Canutt selected the hardest part, so that the coach wheels would sink as little as possible into the surface.

Of course, there’s the obvious question few viewers of Stagecoach seem to ask, one that exposes an obvious inaccuracy: Why didn’t the Apaches simply shoot the horses?! “If they did that,” Ford once replied, “the picture would be over.”

English theater critic and writer Kenneth Tynan asked Orson Welles in 1967 which directors he most admired. “The old masters,” he famously replied. “By which I mean John Ford, John Ford and John Ford.” If not compliment enough, Welles showed his high esteem for Ford by, he said, viewing Stagecoach forty times before beginning Citizen Kane (1941). Ford’s influence is clearly seen in many aspects of Welles’ film, including those “original” shots of ceilings.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OE-VWDsdkwM

#Claire Trevor #John Ford #John Wayne #Thomas Mitchell

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