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rosemaidenvixen · 4 years ago

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A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 13: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: descriptions of raw meat, mentions of violence, toxic thought patterns.

“You know hon, you’re going to have to talk to Toby eventually.”

Jim jolted, smacking the top of his head against the underside of the cabinet, it didn’t hurt in the slightest, but the loud crunch as he made contact did not bode well for the cabinet.

Barbara winced and set her coffee mug down on the table “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,”

Jim pulled back and stood up straight, grimacing when he caught sight of the broken boards and deep gouges his horns had left in the wood. They were going to have to hire someone to come in and fix that “It’s ok,”

“I’m just...concerned, if you two are having problems things aren’t going to get better unless you both address them,”

“Yeah, I know,”

He regretted the flippant words as soon as he said them, getting a glimpse of the look of hurt and worry on his mom’s face.

“Can you tell me why you guys are fighting?” she said softly

Jim looked away, turning his eyes back down to his...food on the counter “It’s complicated,”

It didn’t look like that answer satisfied Barbara at all, but rather than push further she just frowned and went back to her breakfast.

Jim felt bad for being so evasive, but that was vastly overshadowed by just how relieved he was that she was willing to drop it. He finished grabbing the empty jars and frozen plastic wrapped rabbit and headed over to the table to join her. Eating this close to sunrise usually gave him wicked stomach cramps, but he’d put it off for too long already, and he was too hungry to wait another hour and a half to eat a normal breakfast.

So he didn’t waste any time downing all the jars and getting started on the rabbit.

“Are just you and Toby having problems, or does this involve the girls to?”

Jim froze mid bite, a fresh wave of guilt and anxiety crashing into him. The hand holding the half eaten rabbit dropped down to the table. He hung his head, the weight of his horns tugging it down even further. Even without looking he could practically feel the hurt on his mom’s face, which made him feel even worse.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m prying, but I’m worried about you,”

He heard her setting down her fork and clasping her hands together “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything that goes on with you and your friends, but…”

Barbara sighed “I was young once to. I know how high emotions can run, and how the littlest things seem to matter so much-- but they aren’t worth throwing your friendships away,”

Jim risked raising his head to look at her better. Briefly meeting her eyes and getting a peek of her melancholy smile.

As soon as she caught sight of him, Barbara sat up a little straighter and continued, emboldened by the eye contact “If you did something wrong, and I’m not saying you did, avoiding them won’t make it go away. Things can’t get better if you don’t apologize and start rebuilding trust. And if one of them did something to upset you…”

She paused, pulling in a deep breath “Then you have every right to feel hurt and angry, but you need to tell them that. Your friends can’t read your mind, you need to communicate how you’re feeling with them,”

Expectant silence filled the air, Barbara’s gaze stayed on him, patiently waiting for his response.

Jim forced himself to maintain eye contact, very deliberately did not ball his hands into fists, and only opened his mouth to speak once he was sure he could do it in a neutral tone of voice “You’re right...I’ll try to talk to them at lunch today, see if we can clear the air”

Whether she actually believed him or saw the cracks in his facade and decided not to push him further, Barbara’s only response was to smile, give a soft ‘I think that’s a great idea’, and go back to eating.

Which made him feel ten times worse about the fact that he intended to do no such thing.

He looked back down at the rabbit in his hand, stomach in knots. Even though it was the absolute last thing he felt like doing, Jim lifted the rabbit back up and forced himself to take another bite.

When you mess up you need to apologize, when your friends mess up you need to let them know that they hurt you.

But what do you do when it’s both of those things? Or maybe even neither?

He knew his mom was only trying to help, but this was way out of her league.

Jim wasn’t trying to keep secrets or shut her out. But Toby and the girls were straight up accusing her of abuse. How could telling her do anything but hurt her?

They had threatened to send her to prison for crying out loud.

And maybe he was wrong or maybe they were, but bottom line, Jim couldn’t tell Toby and the girls the truth.

If this was how they reacted to just some scratches on a door...he couldn’t risk it.

He swallowed and glanced at what was left of the rabbit through the plastic, butchered and cleaned but still very clearly a rabbit, the ends he’d been chewing on bright red and bloody.

There was a monster here all right, but it wasn’t his mom.

Jim forced down the last of the macabre excuse of what passed for his breakfast and hurried back into the kitchen to start on their lunches. When it was time for Barbara to leave she kissed him on the cheek and thanked him before heading out the door.

And didn’t say anything about the fact he’d just made two instead of three, even though he knew she’d noticed.

He did his best to avoid thinking about it; but before he knew it the sun was up, he was normal again, and it was time to leave for school.

Jim sluggishly changed out of his now baggy t-shirt and jeans into his regular clothes, threw his messenger bag over his shoulder, and forced himself out the door, making a bee line for his bike. It didn’t look like Toby was waiting around to ambush him. But Jim didn’t want to give any openings just in case he was hiding in the bushes, which he’d tried a few days ago.

Fortunately that didn’t happen, and Jim was able to start pedaling to school in peace.

As glad as he was about being about to get to school without having to dodge a confrontation, Jim had definitely been taking Toby’s presence on their morning ride for granted. Less than two weeks and he already couldn’t stand the silence.

But as much as it sucked that’s just the way things had to be now.

All too soon he pulled up to the school. Jim headed around the building towards the bike rack, not one of the ones he and Toby liked to use, but the one near the gym that Steve and his cronies frequented. Hopefully they’d already gone in and Jim could avoid running into them directly.

His heart sank when he pulled up and saw Steve and Logan chatting by the end of the rack. So much for avoiding confrontation. Trying to be as discreet as possible, Jim quietly dismounted and started locking in his bike on the opposite side of the rack from them, praying to go unnoticed.

Unfortunately he wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, parking your dweeby bike next to ours?” Steve stomped over, a snickering Logan right on his heels.

Jim slammed his lock shut, what little remained of his patience gone “I thought that when people saw my lame bike next to your cool one it would make yours look better by comparison,” he said in a complete deadpan.

Steve’s face blanked as he faltered, unable to come up with a response. Jim tried to take advantage of the lull to get away, but he wasn’t quick enough. Steve stepped in front of him and snarled, looming in his personal space to block his exit.

“You’d better tell me what your game is!”

Jim met Steve’s gaze without flinching, normally he wouldn’t try to butt heads with a guy who was called ‘Psycho Steve’ for darn good reason, but after everything he’d been through in the past week and a half Jim couldn’t be bothered to tip toe around him right now “Figure it out yourself Steve, because believe it or not I have bigger problems than your microscopic IQ,”

In hindsight that had probably been the worst thing he could have said. Steve’s face darkened, arm shooting out and grabbing Jim’s collar.

Logan, still hovering behind him, let out a short laugh “Wrong answer Lake,” he said with a smirk.

Steve didn’t say anything, slowly raising his other hand in a fist. Jim winced preemptively and tried to brace himself for the coming blow.

But just before Steve could start rearranging his teeth, Coach Lawrence poked his head out of the gym door, causing all three of them to jump in surprise “Class starts in five minutes, everyone cut the chit chat and get in here!”

He snapped his head in their direction “Kish, Palchuk, that means you!”

Steve growled, but dropped his fist. The second Coach ducked back inside he shoved Jim into the bike rack before stomping towards the gym.

“This isn’t over Crybaby,”

He stalked off, Logan following shortly after.

Jim glowered at Steve’s retreating back before pulling himself up and heading to his own class.

Getting teeth pulled was more fun than spending any time within a ten foot radius of Steve, but it was still better than the burning, queasy feeling he got in his gut whenever Toby, Claire, Mary, or Darci looked at him.

He breathed deeply and tried to force the sudden spike of stress down to a manageable level, Jim knew they meant well, he really did, and he knew all this stuff with curfews and scratched doors was scaring them, but he couldn’t tell them.

Last week had been the closest he’d ever come to spilling the beans, when Toby had jumped him in the bathroom, begging Jim to tell him the truth, promising he wouldn’t go to the cops, Jim had almost done it. He had been so close to just unloading and telling Toby everything. But at the last second he’d bolted. Later once he’d had time to sit down and really think about what had just happened, he’d been really glad that he didn’t.

No matter how much Toby and the girls begged and demanded and insisted Jim could trust them with the truth, the fact was he just couldn’t, no matter how much he did or didn’t want to.

He fumbled with dial in an effort to open his locker.

Jim was a monster, and worse a liar. If the girls ever figured out what he really was...well they wouldn’t run screaming in terror that’s for sure. Maybe Darci would, but chances are she’d be helping Claire decapitate him while Mary filmed the whole thing. And Toby…

His throat tightened unexpectedly, struggling to grab his textbooks as his hands started to shake. That was the worst part, deep down he just didn’t know how Toby would react. Would he be crushed by the knowledge that his ‘best friend’ had never been what he’d seemed? Horrified that he’d never spotted the monster living across the street from him? Furious that Jim had lied to him for over a decade?

Knowing Jim’s luck it would be some unholy combination of all three.

Shutting his locker with much more force than needed, he turned down the hall towards Señor Uhl’s room.

So telling the truth was off the table, but the four of them had made it clear that they weren’t going to let this go any time soon. And they still had the pictures, and the recording Mary made.

Jim had been on edge for days after they’d first confronted him. Terrified that they’d gone ahead to the police with their evidence, and at any moment cops bust open the door and drag his mom away in handcuffs.

But a few days passed without incident, aside from hundreds of texts from all four of them, not an exaggeration, literally hundreds, Jim had slowly allowed himself to relax.

That and the fact that they were still badgering him told Jim that they needed more than just the photos and the audio to go to the police with, they needed him to. And if he didn’t go along with them there was nothing they could do to his mom.

Of course that didn’t explain why his phone had been disturbingly silent for the past two days.

He shook off the worries, Jim had more than enough of those right now, the last thing he needed was to go inventing more. If his friends had realized they couldn’t get him to say anything well then good for them. The important thing was for Jim to stay silent and not respond to their prying, in person or over the phone. As a long term solution it sucked, but he wasn’t about to get better alternatives any time soon.

His stomach was constantly in knots and it felt like he was walking on eggshells 24/7, but he couldn’t take the risk of dropping his guard even a little.

Jim rounded the corner only to freeze midstep. Two people were standing on the other end of the hall quietly chatting with each other. But not just any two people; Toby and Mary. And at the sound of his footsteps their gazes swiveled towards him, piercing him on the spot.

His heart rate tripled.

Ok, no big deal, looks like he was taking the long way to spanish today.

Heart still going a mile a minute, Jim pivoted on his heel, stopping dead when he saw Claire and Darci in the hall behind him, blocking any escape.

Two might be a coincidence, but four? No way. This was an ambush, how long had they been planning this?

Now that he was pinned from either side, they started walking towards him.

Yep, definitely an ambush.

Jim tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. Stay calm, they might have cornered him but they couldn’t make him talk. And if he didn’t talk they couldn’t get anything that they could use to press charges against his mom. The five of them couldn’t stay here in the hall forever, sooner or later a teacher would come by to shuffle them all off to their classes. All Jim needed to do was stay quiet and wait them out.

The four stopped their approach at about three feet away. Jim braced himself, getting ready for the onslaught of begging and accusations.

Toby stepped up to him, breaking the silence “Jim, you don’t have to say anything, I-- we just need to tell you…” he dropped his gaze “We’re sorry, I’m sorry,”

Jim’s jaw dropped.

He what?

There were no words any one of them could have said that would have floored him more. He wondered if he’d actually heard Toby correctly. Right now Jim was too stunned to even react.

“All of us are,” Claire chimed in “We shouldn’t have pushed so hard, especially after you told us we were wrong,”

For over a week Jim had been hoping against hope for them to just drop this and back off, but now that that was, apparently, happening it almost didn’t seem real. If it weren’t for the fact that the school wasn’t made of gingerbread and he still had his pants on Jim would’ve thought that he was dreaming “I-- you-- you what?”

Darci looked nervously from side to side “Can we take this into the computer lab?” she gestured to the door off to the side “Somewhere a little more private than the hallway?”

“Uh...ok,”

They all stepped into the unoccupied room, Darci flicking on the lights and Toby pulling the door shut behind them.

Meanwhile the shock had subsided and suspicion was starting to creep in.

Did they really want to let this go, or were they just trying to get him to drop his guard?

Jim leaned against one of the desks in a way that he hoped came off as casual “So…what exactly is it you guys are saying?”

Toby grimaced “We shouldn’t have kept forcing the issue of the whole basement thing and your curfew the way we did, if you say everything with you and Dr. Lake is cool….we believe you,”

Jim slowly turned to look each of them in the eye, trying to spot any traces of nervousness or dishonesty “Are you guys for real on this?”

“Yeah,” Darci stepped forward “This is your family, as soon as you said everything was fine we should have just butted out,”

Claire came up beside her “That goes for all of us, we’re really sorry we pushed it too far and made you uncomfortable,”

Jim didn’t quite know what to think, on one hand this was exactly what he’d dreamed of happening for over a week, but on the other...there was one person here who hadn’t said anything yet, who was known for having a stubborn streak powerful enough to crush diamonds.

He turned towards Mary, not even trying to hide the distrust on his face “Then what about the recording you made?”

In the second biggest twist of the day, Jim was taken aback to see that Mary actually looked genuinely...remorseful “I lied, I didn’t record anything,” she came up to him and plopped her phone into his hand “Check for yourself, and you can go ahead and delete the pictures of the….racoon scratches,”

Her voice dropped “And I’m sorry to…”

Jim heard her apology, but for the most part he was preoccupied with the device in his hand. To be honest he’d been starting to think this all sounded too good to be true; but if Mary was actually letting him go through her phone--

He still couldn’t believe he was holding it, it was like being handed the holy grail, only somehow more sacred.

Only about a minute or so of browsing through her phone and Jim knew Mary was telling the truth, the photos of the scratched door were there, she hadn’t sent them to anyone. And there was no audio recording in her main files or her autobackup.

A tiny part of Jim was ticked that she’d tried to trick him using an imaginary recording, but that was eclipsed by the enormous relief he felt that the damning words he’d said had never been captured in the first place.

It was like a massive weight being lifted off his shoulders as Jim permanently deleted the photos of the basement door. After handing the phone back he looked around at everyone, torn between his remaining doubts and giddiness at the idea that this may be over after all.

“So you guys are really going to stop bugging me about my curfew and rules and everything?”

They all nodded.

“Yep,”

“Absolutely,”

“One hundred percent,”

Toby came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling wide “At lunch today what do you say we meet up at the food truck, figure out what we’re going to do over spring break, and forget all this ever happened?”

A tiny smile of his own curled on Jim’s face “Sounds great,”

They all filled out of the computer lab, Jim was last, flicking off the light switch as they left, actually relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Against all odds Toby and the girls had actually decided to let it go.

Jim felt so light he was practically walking on air. It was over. This horrible, screwed up mess was finally over. His secret was safe, his mom was safe. He wouldn’t have to spend every day swinging back and forth between anxiety and crippling loneliness. Jim could actually talk to his friends again, go back to actually having a life.

For the first time in a long time things were looking up.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #jim lake jr #barbara lake #steve palchuk #toby domzalski #mary wang #darci scott #claire nuñez #A Secret's Worth #fanfic #rmvwrites

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xellandria · 4 years ago

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Zmija Yilan was a temporary character I played towards the end of our Tomb of Annihilation campaign after my boy Alexus got petrified by a beholder somewhere deep in the bowels of the tomb itself. We were able to “salvage” both him and Amara (who had also gotten petrified in the same fight) by shoving them into the Bag of Holding, but short of having the two of us sit on the bench while the remaining two party members waddled back to town, we had to roll some new characters.

I spent most of the week between the petrification and the new characters appearing being mad at myself for not remembering I had Inspiration I could have used to reroll either of my failed dex saves and not being able to do much beyond that, but with less than 72 hours left until she had to debut, I finally pulled an idea out of my butt, ran it by the DM because it involved Shenanigans™, got the OK and started designing her. Thus was born Zmija Yilan, whose appearance was based partly on an old photo that was semi-viral on Tumblr several years prior and partly on Xelloss from Slayers because when I’m in a pinch, that’s always who I fall back on, and have been doing so for like, 20+ years at this point lmao. Personality-wise, there was a post floating around Tumblr that week about proverbs in various languages that, when translated literally or without context, made very little sense so she got a lot of that (and associated misunderstandings based on language mix-ups) mixed in with—again—Xelloss from Slayers, because I am a hack. I would probably never play her again because she was so firmly entrenched in that campaign and also there’s some parts of how I designed/played her that I look back on and am like “ehhh I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the optics of this,” but I enjoyed playing her a lot more than I expected, and I look back on the end of our Tomb campaign very fondly because of it.

I haven’t been able to talk about her in public both for a lack of reason to do so and because I didn’t want to “spoil” my group in case they found my various social media posts, but as it’s nearly a year since she was introduced and nine months since the campaign ended, I’m gonna absolutely wall of text the shit outta this bitch, rofl (that said there’s baby’s first nekkid pin-up under here so assuming Tumblr lets me actually post it, fair warning for that under the cut)

Zmija Yilan - level 8-10 Human* Warlock (Great Old Ones/Pact of the Tome) (usually this is where my D&D character posts put stats but I don’t actually have access to her character sheet anymore, so let’s just pretend she had something ridiculous like maxed Charisma because I remember my spell DC being ridiculously high)

Zmija Yilan is a traveler from the far-off land of Zemlya, and a disciple of Matrymriy, one of the "family" of five gods in the pantheon of that region. Matrymriy came to Zmija in a dream one night and told her to travel across the seas because She had a task for her, and that she would learn more once she reached her destination. She's been traveling around Faerun for seven or so years—reaching one place, being given hints to go to a specific location, and upon reaching it, being told to travel on without seeming to do much more than just Be There. Upon reaching Chult sometime within the last few months, her patron's hints indicated that she should travel to a place called Shilku Bay; she hired a guide (named Salida) and a bodyguard (a Fort Belurian mook) with what little locally-acceptable currency she had; they got separated after being attacked by a band of undead, and after failing to reunite with them, she was wandering around lost, trusting that Matrymriy will guide her where She desires her to go.

Part of her wandering had her end up in the Tomb of the Nine Gods itself, where she encountered our adventuring party (down two player characters) desperately trying to find their way out of the tomb in the hopes of returning to Port Nyanzaru to depetrify their friends. Our barbarian’s player immediately distrusted her because I’d drawn her tabletop token with her back to the camera, which was an awkward feeling almost immediately returned in-game because both the barbarian and paladin aren’t hardcore RPers but they had to carry all the RP weight as they were introduced to this new character and explain that they were there to destroy a lich (both because it was the source of all the bad undead in the area, and because they’d been promised a reward—a motivation Zmija understood, as “a hungry bear will not dance.”) Beyond the usual RP awkwardness there was an additional layer of awkwardness between the characters IC as at the time, Thokk was barely wearing more than a breastplate and loincloth, while Zmija was covered neck-to-ankle despite the heat and humidity of the region. She claimed that in the culture of Zemlya, having strangers see your skin was a mark of great shame and that modesty was of paramount importance, so seeing so much of him was very off-putting and threw her off-balance for much of their initial interactions.

Getting off on the “wrong” foot with the party and pushing as hard as I could into Zmija’s quirks (the weird proverbs, sprinkling in her Zemlyan vocabulary and making a point of her being from Very Far Away with Very Different Customs) meant I went a little too hard on them at the beginning, which is partly what I’d do differently and partly why the whole thing ended up working, so it’s a weird retrospective balance. If my partymates had ever shoved (almost) any of the names or places Zmija mentioned into google, they probably would have twigged to the scheme pretty dang fast.

In reality, Zmija is not a human traveler from Zemlya, because surprise! she's actually Zsaksatyi, a Chultian Yuan-Ti Pureblood under the command of Fenthaza. She worked as a bit of a double agent/interrogator within the Fane prior to her current assignment (hence her spell list's focus on information gathering, silent communication, and manipulation); she's been fleshing out her alternate persona for years and would occasionally pretend to be a captive and be thrown in one of those cells the party was in to get relevant information from the other prisoners, or assist others that were interrogating prisoners by more direct means (via Detect Thoughts). In-universe, the language she pretends to speak is mostly made up, and something she's been working on for years at this point—it's not a fully-fleshed conlang and she only has a couple hundred words and phrases but it's enough to be consistent and believable when she sprinkles it into regular speech. Since there's no real risk of running into anyone else from Zemlya (because it doesn't actually exist), it mostly didn't matter, and since there's actual meaning behind the words she does have, in theory it would have held up to a spell like Comprehend Languages as well. Out of universe, the language she speaks is an amalgamation of my own conlang stuff (which, like the in-universe version, is very limited and not complete) and various words and phrases pulled mostly from real-world Slavic languages (russian, croatian, hungarian, etc) with a little bit of Turkish thrown in when my English-only ear felt that it fit or when I had already used a word and needed another word for the same thing. Zsaksatyi (pronounced dzahk sot-YEE) is the only name/word in the whole mess that doesn’t actually mean something somewhere, and was a combination of syllables from an online Yuan-Ti name generator that I kinda liked together. If she had ever been outed, I would probably have come up with something a little less cumbersome for me and my (almost certainly wholly monolingual) D&D group to say... but she didn’t, so Zsaksatyi it stays!

She very much looks up to Fenthaza and almost idolizes and worships her—if she ever had to choose between Fenthaza or Dendar, things might have gotten a little bit rough for her (possibly no matter which way she ultimately jumped, though I imagine Dendar's vengeance would be more immediate, if Dendar's a hands-on sort of patron). Thankfully (for her), there was very little risk of that given that the party had left Fenthaza on reasonably neutral terms (having already helped her oust Ras Nsi from his position of power in the Fane and the party having essentially marked that dungeon as “cleared”). Fenthaza had sent her to scout the Tomb of the Nine Gods and locate (or steal) an artifact known as the Black Opal Crown, which will allow the Night Mother to emerge into the world. The group actually came across the crown pretty soon after Zmija (and our other new character, a firbolg druid named Mei Ren who replaced our cleric, Amara) joined them, but the party couldn’t figure out how to get it out of the room it was in and Zsaksatyi was content that it would be safe from both our group and other adventurers there while she found her way back to the Fane (though she Sent the location to Fenthaza in case she wasn’t able to make it back). That was actually like, halfway through the session right after she’d been introduced so having her sneak off that fast would have been absolutely wild, so I kept playing her as Zmija and while there were myriad opportunities for her to be discovered—including a hallway where any non-magical non-living thing got evaporated, up to and including clothing—she never was. The fact that the only spells she ever used spell slots on were Hex, Counterspell, and Identify never really got commented upon, because prior to her joining the party we didn’t have a source for any sort of utility magic and we’d been feeling the lack for a while. She was a lot of fun to play just as Zmija once I got the hang of her, but the hidden agenda that only our DM & I knew about was an extra layer of fun, too. It would have been neat to see how the party reacted to a reveal, but unless Jim wants to take us back to Chult to actually deal with the Night Mother’s return (because without having to keep up appearances and alignments, I’m pretty sure I could have gotten that crown out of there even before the weird teleport-defying magic of the Tomb got turned off), her story is over for us—taking her outside of the setting she was designed for would be weird... plus we already have two warlocks (well, one and a half) in a party of four PCs; adding a third would be a little bit bizarre, I think.

Her more Yuan-ti features include scales down her spine and across her shoulderblades, on the backs of her hands, and on her hips and thighs—mostly in reds, oranges, and browns, but as she increases in power and connection with the Night Mother, more of them are darkening to Her blue-black; it started right at that spot between the shoulderblades where you always picture being stabbed in the back, and has expanded from there; I imagine by level 20 all of her scales would be that blue-black and may have encroached further on the more human-y leather bits, probably encroaching on her face at the last, which would make being a spy a lot more difficult (even moreso than wearing as much clothing as she already does) but I guess at level 20, do you really need to be sneaking around pretending to be human?

In direct sunlight or other very bright light, her pupils constrict to slits, which is the real reason for her heavy eye makeup—between the distraction of it and the (somewhat exaggerated) squinting that such light induces, it often goes unnoticed, as it did with her character portrait (although to be fair to my party, Alexus also has slit eyes because that’s one of the traits of elves and half elves in D&D, and also I’m not sure if they ever saw her portrait any larger than 150x150 or whatever Roll20 shows them at). Both her top and bottom canine teeth are sharper, longer, and narrower than is typical for humans, and she is careful not to grin too widely and will cover her mouth when she laughs or yawns, whether she is in disguise or not. That part I’ve never drawn though, so I can’t really point to that as something the party overlooked, heh. In hindsight, I wish I'd given her more/heavier snake features but even the official art for Yuan-Ti player characters are very light on them and getting around the differences between human and yuan-ti racials without tipping off the party was hard enough as it was—I took the 120 feet of magic-ignoring darkvision invocation to disguise the fact that she innately had darkvision, I never used my racial spells and abilities unless I was willing to “use” a spell slot on them and had another plausible way to have obtained them, the one time I got hit with a poison ability (which she was immune to) I spent a lot of time “figuring out the math” on how much HP I had to drop, etc. I also wish I’d given her darker skin, as she is supposed to be Chultian but she is significantly lighter than all the NPCs we came across. Then again, I’m as white as a sheet soaked in bleach so there’s something weird about me RPing folks of colour regardless (especially given her fake backstory, agh agh agh) so yeah. Really enjoyed her, don’t regret her, will not ever play her again rofl

In our very last session of Tomb of Annhiliation, the party—fresh off the victory over the big bad lich whose name I can never spell and his weird world-eating fetus—headed back to Port Nyanzaru via the Aarakocra village of Kir Sabal, which the previous variant of the party (of whom only Thokk remained alive and mobile enough to talk to them) had helped out significantly earlier in the campaign, unlocking a flying ritual that we were like “man we’re not coming back here if we’re gonna use it we gotta do it now” to get us the rest of the way to the port. En route, Zmija tried to leave the group and rolled a secret 15 Stealth roll... contested by 17 and 18 perception rolls from Mei Ren and Thokk, but as she wasn’t carrying much of the party’s stuff and it was the end of the campaign, they kinda just let her give some line about seeing them again in the future maybe, the Mother’s will is unknowable, etc etc. I think if Duf and Kattii didn’t know that I wanted Alexus back as badly as I did and that we were like twenty minutes (real time) away from actually getting him back, they might have considered that more suspicious than they did.

Pronunciations (and translations): (mostly C&Ped from her bio, which is the only part of her character sheet I can still access on Roll20)

Zmija Yilan: zMEE-ah yee-LAHN. Because I'm subtle as hell, that's Croatian/Russian/Ukranian (first name) and Turkish (last name) for "snake/serpent," according to the internet. What do you mean Remus Lupin is a werewolf?!

Matrymriy: mah-tRRuh mRREE (Rs are rolled). Matrymriy is Zmija's claimed patron—one of five major Zemlyashan dieties—but she'll state that she doesn't know the name that she goes by in the local dialect. That's only partly true, of course—мати мрій is Ukranian for "Mother of Dreams" (at least according to google translate), which is close enough to her patron's actual names and titles (Dendar, the Night Mother) that she can get away with it without actually raising suspicions about the true source of her powers. She'll also do that thing where if someone tries to say the name back to her she'll "correct" them by saying it exactly the same four or five times and then "give up" and accept whatever "butchered" version the speaker comes up with, except she'll do it even if they're actually saying it perfectly correctly. She may do this with her own name as well (sorry, Jim. And Duf. And Dustin. And Kattii. And Kattii's coworker, if he ever joins us and I'm still playing this character by then, lmao.) (2021 addition: and literally everyone who has a name that isn’t typically pronounced by us English-only plebians, I am so sorry I’m not better at your language)

Zsaksatyi: dzahk sot-YEE. Zmija's real name, when she isn't pretending to be a human. That doesn't mean anything as far as I know, it was just a combination of some of the syllables the random Yuan-Ti name generator was coming up with that I liked (which is also where "Itszella" was from), lol. I may end up changing it to be less cumbersome at some point, unless it comes up before then and ends up written in stone, but I'm on a bit of a time crunch for the moment.

Zemlya: zem-lyah. If pressed for more detail on where in Zemlya she's from (e.g. by someone pretending to know details about her country), her home town is Fal'shyva (fall-sheh-VAH), southeast of the capital of Hayali (HI-yah-LEE) and just north of the port city of Farazi (fah-ra-DZI), which is where she originally sailed from seven years ago. фальшива земля is Ukranian for "fake land," Hayali is Turkish for "imaginary," and Farazi is Turkish for "hypothetical," lol.

Proverbs & (approximate) Pronounciations: (if I recall correctly, asterisks indicate ones I had used, so I didn’t repeat myself too frequently)

Wziąć się w garść (zvun shih garsch): lit. take the self into the fist (polish), pull yourself together Галопом по Zemlya (gal-OH-pohm poe zem-lyah): lit. galloping across Zemlya (russian), to be hasty/haphazard. * У кого немає собаки, полює з котом (Ooh koe-hoe meh-MIGH-eh soe-BAH-kay, poe-LOO-yay koh-tome): lit. who does not have dog, hunts with cat (ukranian, original proverb is portugese), make do with what you have. Z choinki się urwałaś? (dzi hoink-E she urr-vahl-wash): lit. did you fall from a Candlenights(aka Christmas) tree? (polish), you are obviously not well-informed; are you dumb? * Mi o vuku (MEE oh voo-koo): lit. to talk of the wolf (croatian), speak of the devil. * Thalai muzhuguthal (tha-LIE MOOz-GOO-thal): lit. pour water over someone's head (tamil), cut off a relationship. * Хоть кол на голове теши (coat-coal nah gohl-ehvee teh-SHEE): lit. you can sharpen an axe on this head (russian), a very stubborn person.

Other Languages Are Hard Today, Let’s Just Proverb It In English:

Cat's Forehead (japanese): a tiny space, usually used humbly to refer to owned land. It fell between chairs (swedish): group work that everyone assumed someone else would do, and didn't get done as a result * It gives me a beautiful leg (french): fat lot of good that'll do me Drown the fish (french): avoid a subject by talking about anything and everything else, confuse the issue In a river with piranhas, the alligator swims backstroke (brazil): protect your weaknesses * Accusation always follows the cat (iraqi): it's easy to blame someone who can't defend themselves The honey only sticks to the mustache of he who licked it (arabic): he who smelt it, dealt it * A hungry bear does not dance (greek): the reward must be worth the cost (or at least exist) * The crayfish sides with the crab (korean): people who have a lot in common stay friends * If you can't live longer, live deeper (italian): get the most of your time * A spoon does not know the taste of soup (welsh): intelligence is not wisdom Examine what is said, not who speaks (arab): don't take things at face value * Turn your face to the sun and the shadows will fall behind you (new zealand): have a positive outlook He who does not travel, does not know the value of men (moorish): wide experience is gr8 Do good and throw it in the sea (arab): don't expect anything back from kindness * Shared joy is a double joy; shared sorrow is halved (swedish): friends make things better If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together (african): strength in numbers, speed on your own.

#xellart #dungeons and dragons #original characters #zmija yilan

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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years ago

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Eli's Full Bio (1984)

"I'm going to beat you, and then, I'm going to be better than you."

Name: Elizabeth Roberta Herne

Aliases: Envy, Eli Lucifarian

Nicknames: Eli, Beth, Bobby

Age: 24 (Born April 7th 1960)

Race: Human, 1/2 Canadian 1/2 American - Californian

Gender: Female. She/Her pronouns

Sexuality: Heterosexual / Straight

Height: 5'5" / 165 cm

Weight: 140 lbs / 10 stone / 63 kg

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Blonde

Clothing Style: Casual - relaxed

Religion: N/A

Personality Traits: Envious, Neat, Aloof, Gentle, Optimistic, Over-Critical.

Strengths: Doesn't give up until she gets what she wants. Keeps track of everything she owns. Always sees the good side of every situation.

Weaknesses: Has a hard time giving in to the fact that she can't have everything she wants. Can space out at the worst times (like mid-promo). Too hard on herself in private.

Likes: stars, rain, Anole lizards, money, Halloween, slushies, puppies, beer, surfing, green, cuddly toys, horror movies, frogs, denim jeans, road trips, snow

Dislikes: math, wasps, vodka, gossip, hospitals, Chihuahuas, giant squids, sunsets, moths, tractors, Hawaiian pizza, needles, blizzards, black ice, hangovers, delayed flights

Family: Heather Herne (mother), Robert Herne (Father)

Friends: Vickie, Billie, P.G, Kirby, Holly, Sam, Bret Hart

Enemies: Moolah, Wendi Richter, Bob Backlund, Hulk Hogan, Lord Alfred Hayes, Hillbilly Jim, Brutus Beefcake

Role: Mouth (Kinda), Heart (Kinda), Brain (Kinda), the annoying one

Backstory/Past: By far the most 'normal' of the group, Eli grew up in a household with a working father and a stay-at-home mother and seemed like the perfect child. Eli has wrestled since she was 17 and joined the group whilst they were in Canada for a month, becoming Envy was a way of saying 'I want more from this life than what I have'. Eli wants everything she never had and more.

Becoming a member of the 'Daughters of Darkness’ was quite simple, she showed them what she could do and they, in turn, helped her improve on her work in the ring. Although she seems to space out at the worst possible times, leading to a history of botched promos, seriously, ever since she joined the 'D.O.D' in 1977 there has slowly been enforced a rule of 'don't let Eli do the talking'.

Voice: Catherine O'Hara (Beetlejuice -1988)

Style of Wrestling: Build up fighter

Regular Moves: Standing dropkick, hangman's DDT, exploder suplex, inverted headlock back breaker, powerslam, jumping knee drop, European uppercut, T-bone suplex, Give-up (diving crossbody), Green Eyed Grab (gut wrench elevated neckbreaker)

Finishers: Wheelbarrow suplex, Give-it-all (inverted overdrive)

Commentary Nickname: Green eyes (usually), sixth of the seven (rare occasions - whole group scenes)

Refers to Her Fans as: The envious, the envious ones, the disenchanted

#Lucifarians #Wrestling Family #wrestling fic #original character

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deceptive-jo · 4 years ago

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Who am I to you?

Based on this post where I said I wasn’t gonna do it. Not part of my Brotherly Divination AU.

The Actor lost his best friend years ago. Meanwhile the Host just tries to live in peace with the other egos and Dark. But is that all there is to it or might there be a past and future for them?

TW: death, mention of lost body parts (It’s the Host what do you expect), manipulation, loss of a loved one, cursing

Words: 2.909

@blood-stained-ink I have a feeling you might want to look at that.

Author loved the Actor. That was a fact, they were both aware of it and it was completely up to them what they made of it. Currently that meant small kisses in passing, hot cups of tea and a warm blanket whenever one of them fell asleep on their desks and cuddles in front of the fireplace after waking up from yet another nightmare. It was enough. Honestly, being able to live in peace in their cottage and continuing to work was more than he could have hoped for. So what if Dark wanted to come over to bother them from time to time? He could go back to hell for all Author cared. It was not like he had a place to judge their relationship as long as he had that pink maniac running around. So what if they were a pair of egoistical assholes that killed people from time to time? That was nothing less then the other Egos could say about themselves. Well, maybe King, that boy was precious. No, Author was content, as long as he had his partner and a successful novel from time to time.

Speaking of- “Where did you put my baseball bat?”, the yell rang through the house to catch the attention of a certain performer in his bedroom. The Actor, or Marc as called by most, turned away from the mirror he was fixing his hair in front of and marched out of the room. “What do you mean? You put it back in your room after last time- Wait are you going out?! We’re supposed to be at the restaurant at 7!” Author dragged his hand through his hair. Right, the dinner Ace had planned. “I’m gonna be quick”, he yelled upstairs not bothering to search for his bat. He’d have to do with his pen and notebook then. He was already half out of the front door when he caught the “Don’t get any blood on your clothes”. ‘Don’t worry, love’, he thought to himself, ’I am going to look my best just for you.’ With that thought and a last grin the door slammed close behind him.

The Actor paced back and forth in the living room, throwing a hurried glance towards the front door and listening intently for any sound the back door might make. Nothing. What ever the hell was ‘quick’ for that asshole? Sure, they still had 10 minutes left but Author knew how much he hated to arrive in the very last secound if he could avoid it. But they’d just have to go through the void. If only this idiot would finally come back. But Author did not come back. Not in the next 10 minutes. Not the next hour. Not even the next day. It was after waking up on the couch for the secound time in a row that Marc decided to start searching for his friend. So he wandered through the forest for hours, trying to pick up any trace Author or his ‘victim’ could have left behind. Nothing. Then the actor went into the city, checking the cafes and restaurants they frequented, the book shops his best friend would sometimes spend hours in, but again, nothing. No one he asked had any recollection of seeing the Author the last days. Marc even sifted through the void for 4 days in a row steering clear only of the blue-red pulsating area that was Dark’s aura. After two weeks he stopped searching. He didn’t know if that was an appropriate time or if he should search longer. To be completely honest, he hadn’t really lost a person before like that. The last person to not come back to him was Celine but he still knew where she was back then and he refused to think about the implication this left for his current situation. Truth be told, he also didn’t like the other implications that left. The man sighed, slumped over on his desk staring at the small ring box in his hands that had become increasingly heavy in his pockets over the last days. Where the hell was his best friend?

The Host didn’t remember much. In fact, before a certain point in his life his mind drew a blank slate. When waking up the man found himself unable to see. The room smelled of hand sanitizer and peppermint. A hospital perhaps? But why would he be in a hospital? The next he knew a person appeared at his side and the scent of peppermint and hand sanitizer grew stronger. “Hello Host. My name is Dr Iplier. I’m going to change your bandages real quick then Dark will want to speak to you”, a male’s warm voice reassured him. The Host – was that his name? It seemed so peculiar – had many questions but he still kept them in while the doctor was at work. After that he couldn’t feel him leave the room but instead another presence joined him and suddenly the Host was glad that the doctor stayed. This presence was different, repressing and dark. The new man set himself next to the Host and began to talk in a deep, echoing voice, for a long time. He told the Host that his name was Darkiplier and that he was the leader of what he called ‘Egos’. Apparently the Host was one of them. They took him in after finding him on the forest floor, unconscious and with his eyes ripped out of his skull. The Host was still very confused but Darkiplier was there to explain most of his questions. Whenever he awoke in the hospital bed in the manor’s clinic Dark sat next to him, no matter how late it was. He was there to comfort him after he had another nightmare, more wild and obscure pictures just flunked around in his head. It was Dark who helped him figure out how his new sight worked and when he had his first vision that left him thrashing and screaming it was Dark who appeared and calmed him down. When he was allowed to finally leave the clinic Dark awaited him in the hallway and took his arm. While escorting him through the manor Dark did most of the talking. That was alright. The Host was more then content with listening to his boss (friend?) complaining about the Jim’s newest shenanigans. He just contributed his occasional nod or short remark and in no time they arrived at his room close to Dark’s.

The next months passed in a rush. Despite mostly staying in his bedroom, the library he discovered soon and Dark’s office he still became well enough acquainted with the rest of the hosehold. RJ and CJ were always eager to listen to his stories, Bim liked to spend his rehearsal time before a show in his room and even Google tolerated his stay in the android’s office whenever the Host wished to escape the chaos of the house. But over it all it was Dark who he was closest to. Whenever he could spare the time the entity would visit the Host in the library for a game of chess, a talk or simply to read in the semi-silence of the room. The first time he touched him the Host still repulsed, startled. But Dark didn’t seem annoyed to announce himself before making a move and soon the seemingly random hand on his arm or shoulder brushes became a regular thing between the two of them. He had a feeling they were more and more trusting towards each other. The Host knew that it was no use to try and lie to his friend and Dark was aware that he could hardly keep a secret from him. So they didn’t. Besides Dr Iplier was Dark the only one to have seen the Host’s empty eye sockets. Whenever Dark would have an episode his friend would know and help him with his chronic pain as good as possible.

The Host assumed this to be a normal thing until he noticed the reactions of the others and how Dark always seemed to distance himself to them somewhat, or how he seemed to never enter any of their offices in a non-business related matter. After this revelation he also began to notice how the others treated him in a seemingly overly conscious way as well as the looks Wilford would throw him sometimes that he couldn’t quite place. Something had changed with his closeness to Dark and he didn’t like the effect it had on his relationship with the other Egos.

But all that didn’t matter right now. In this moment the only thing that mattered was Dark’s arm around his, pressing the Host close to his chest. His chin rested on his head and the man’s hand gently stroke his hair, twirling his blonde streak of hair around his grey fingers. “What is on your mind, dear?”, mumbled the demon who had noticed his friend to be in deep thoughts once again. “The Host was just thinking about the other Egos. He noticed how their behaviour regarding him has changed over the last weeks. They appear to have become more...distant towards him.” The fingers in his hair stopped just for a moment before picking up their motion again. Dark hummed, “Don’t worry about them. Who knows what’s gotten into them. They’ll get themselves together again, I’m sure. You should get your mind off of these thing. I’ll invite you to dinner.” That actually took the Host off guard, “W-What would bring Dark to such an offer?” “Can’t I just take out my boyfriend?” “Boyfriend?”, when had that happened? Had he not interpreted the change in behaviour right? Dark chuckled behind him, “That wasn’t supposed to slip out. I can take it back if you want me too.” “No”, the Host mumbled. He didn’t move his head, just slowly raised his left arm before his hand got grabbed by Dark’s, “the Host wouldn’t be opposed to that.” “Wonderful, I will come by at 7 to pick you up”, and with that and a quick kiss on his head Dark was out of the room. Leaving the Host behind, alone with his thoughts.

It was exactly 7 pm when the Host heard a knock at his bedroom door. He opened the door, trying not to look as if he had been standing behind it for several minutes already. Dark smirked down at him looking somehow even sharper in his suit than usual. He reached forward before stopping himself as if he had to remind himself of something. What was it- right, the Touch-Rule. Why had they put that up again? It was not as if he would mind, right? “Your tie is crooked”, a moment later he felt quick hands redoing and adjusting his tie. “You look good”, came from his escort as he took his arm and began guiding him down the corridor. The Host beamed at the compliment. He had found a suit in the back of the wardrobe that he didn’t even remember owning. He did not know why it seemed so important for him to impress Dark all out of a sudden. But that was normal for boyfriends, right?

Dark watched his pet as he rambled on about his latest works. He did look just as handsome in the suit as he had imagined. ‘Yes, I can definitely make this work’, he thought to himself. By now all his moves had played out in his favour, from gaining the seer’s trust and affection to wiping his memories. It hadn’t been easy, he had to admit that, but in the end it pay out. When they found the Author in the woods, alone and unconscious, they had to take the chance they got. Host would be thankful for knowing that he freed him from this obnoxious personality and the Actor’s influence were he ever to regain his memories. Not like that was going to happen any time soon.

The Host was...content. He should be happy. Maybe he was. Technically his life hadn’t changed. He still spend most of his time in his office, writing and recording. Bim and the Jims didn’t come to his room quite as often. Dr Iplier rarely talked during their appointments any more. He hadn’t seen the rest of the group for days, or was it weeks? He found it hard to sleep, often falling asleep only in the early mornings which usually resulted in Dark bringing him breakfast. That was the one constant in his life: Dark. And while he still stopped by from time to time and they spent most nights together...there was something keeping them at the points they were now. They didn’t grow apart, you couldn’t say that, but there seemed to be this one topic that stood like a wall of glass between them – the Host’s past. He still couldn’t recall exact memories (not like he was trying to) but much like with the Egos he managed to catch onto certain auras and atmospheres. And while those surely changed – from wild green swirling in deep oak brown over baby blue tinted with cold metal to flashing yellow playing with lavendel – one red aura always stayed there, omnipresent and calming, warm. He was unsure on the identity of this man, for he knew it was a man, but he was sure of his connection with him, which was a passionate and loving one. For a moment he wanted to assume it was Dark’s, though it didn’t match with his current one. Maybe he should ask him. While Dark didn’t like to talk about his past, he had always shown interest in any possibility of the Host’s memories returning. The Host did not tell him about the man.

It was the Host’s birthday. Well, actually it was the day he joined the Egos but they didn’t really have anything else to go of. He received some mumbled birthday wishes when he entered the kitchen but he could also feels how the others averted their eyes not even daring to look into his direction. He knew why they did it. He had had enough time to really think last night, seemingly for the first time in a while. That wasn’t to say that he liked the reason. He needed to get out of here before the air suffocated him.

The man sitting on the porch of the small cottage went by the name of Actor. His friends called him Marc but the last one of them had died three years ago. Exactly three years actually. That’s why he sat on this porch. Because he shouldn’t bother any more, right? He told himself he didn’t because that was not the kind of person he was. But that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t had another partner since then, that he had taken no one here – home.

The man had lived in a manor once, together with his beautiful wife. When she left him the huge house felt too big and too empty for him alone. So he filled it with parties and music and loud women and men. Ten he had started to live here with his beautiful friend. When he left him the house felt way too tiny, suffocating, made him question how they had survived in it as two. So he didn’t need to fill it with noise. As it was it was enough. It had always been.

Movement out of the side of his eye caught his attention. Annoyed at the disturbance he turned around and looked right at- “Author?” The other man looked up at him, caught off guard. He could now see the bandage around his head, not the beautiful golden eyes of his beloved but besides that and the glimming golden streak of hair it was an exact copy of him. The man seemed to have noticed his stare and began muttering again. How had he not noticed that before? Actor opened his mouth again when- “The Host knows you”, the stranger (?) blurted out. “You do?” The man nodded, “Your...aura. He has seen it before. In his memory”, he tapped lightly against his temple as if to emphasize his point, “No, he doesn’t know who you are. But of all the few things he remembers...you are the clearest.” Actor frowned. He didn’t understand everything the man (the Host?) said but damn if he wasn’t going to try and help them both. “I’m the Actor”, he began while slowly walking towards the Host, “and you are the Author. But you’re supposed to be dead.” The Host (Author?) slowly shook his head, the same sad and omnipotent smile on his face as his partner, “He supposes that would have been three years ago.” “How did you know that?”, Marc hissed with narrowed eyes. “That’s when the Host was taken in by the Egos with no recollection of his previous life.” “The Egos- Fucking Dark”, Marc swore under his breath. That insufferable, disastrous bastard! How could he dare to- “What did he do to you?”, he had to know. And may the gods know if that absolute maniac had hurt just a single part of his beloved’s being he would make. him. suffer. But the Host just kept looking at him with that tilted head, the sad smile still on his lips as if he were to pity the other man. “He proposed.”

#markiplier egos #the author #the actor #the host #darkiplier #the actor x the author #the host x darkiplier #dr iplier #other egos mentioned #tw death #tw loss of a loved one #tw loss of body parts #tw manipulation #tw cursing #angst #no happy ending

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kinetic-elaboration · 4 years ago

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December 29: The Wrath of Khan

Today’s movie watching was Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

My overall impression versus TMP is that this is clearly a smoother and more consistently entertaining film. It has a definite story with very little filler, good pacing, a lot of great little dialogue and character moments, and a strong conflict at its center.

But its sci fi bona fides are much weaker. Like by a lot.

Mom and I are talking a bit about Genesis and the more we talk, the weaker it appears to me. First, it’s not really as believable, imo, as a lot of Star Trek. Maybe it’s because it’s not alien based, but I just have a harder time suspending disbelief to think this is possible. Second, it’s not clear why anyone thought this was a good idea. I mean, as McCoy immediately pointed out, it just seems so CLEARLY dangerous: an object meant to foster creation that could so easily be the worst weapon the universe has ever known--nothing could go awry there! Third, the reason for creating such a device isn’t obvious at all. Carol mentions the “growing population” and “food scarcity” but nothing we’ve ever seen of the Federation implies they’re running out of space. Or, frankly (Tarsus IV aside), food. And fourth, there really isn’t any point to Genesis in all its particulars in this film. Like, obviously, its actual purpose is a plot device to resurrect Spock. Within just this film, it doesn’t do anything. Khan wants it, for some reason I’ve already forgotten even though I just saw the film, and he gets it, but I didn’t even notice that happening, because it was so unimportant. His REAL mission is his single minded revenge fantasy on Kirk. Genesis is just a McGuffin/space filler/plot device for the next film.

And honestly that’s not such a big deal, except that when you compare it to TMP, ,and its central idea of a human made probe that gained so much knowledge, doing what we taught it to do, that it became sentient and then started searching for the meaning of life, and how this relates to the search for meaning experienced by the main alien lead, and how his search, in that film and throughout the series, is a mirror for humans and OUR need for purpose... well it just seems really weak. “We made this really dangerous and unrealistic thing for no reason whoops!”

Mom is now criticizing Kirk for being too slow on the uptake when he first encounters the Reliant, which is fair. That’s pretty OOC of him. The idea that he’s too old for space is both one that I must personally disregard, and one that the film would have you discard, since we’ve already heard from TWO characters, the people who know him best, that his best destiny is as a starship captain, and command is his proper role. And that he might be a little rusty is also not a great explanation imo, because the rust was supposed to have come off in TMP. So, plot hole probably.

We were trying to do some math--TMP is at least 2 years post 5YM and TWOK is at least 10 years post TMP, so at least 8 years post TMP. I can understand more rust growing but like... he was already an Admiral in TMP and the idea that he was out of practice with actual command was a big part of his arc there. So it doesn’t seem warranted to do that again.

Also, the way he was commanding poorly in TMP was very IC: he was pushing too hard, trying too much, caring too much about the mission and not enough about...the laws of physics. That’s very Kirk. Being slow on the uptake, caught with his britches down--that’s not Kirk. Plus, with no one to call him out on it, like Decker did in TMP, his poor command doesn’t seem like a big character obstacle to overcome but just like...sloppiness all around.

I thought Khan was over all... just not that interesting. I guess I’m just not into the obsession/revenge plot. Also...idk man he didn’t seem that super to me. He outsmarted Kirk, like, once, and Kirk outsmarted him like 4 times. He tortured some people--but regular humans can do that. He used those sandworm thingies, which is also something humans could do. Overall, he didn’t seem to have any particularly special skills. The only time he really seemed like a worthy adversary for Kirk was when Kirk wasn’t really being IC himself.

I’m also not into the fridging of his wife. Think how much cooler it would have been if she’d still been alive! The only non-super human in the bunch and she’s still there! Ex-Starfleet and bitter!

The K/S in this film is very soothing. Imo they are clearly together here, and the whole film is better if you assume they’re boyfriends and everyone knows. That Vulcan convo that Spock and Saavik have? Waaaaay funnier if you think she’s talking about his boyfriend (”not what I expected....very human” “Well no one’s perfect”). Every time they call each other ‘friend’ like ““friend”“? All the Looks? The birthday gift?

Also the “I have been and always shall be your [friend]” scene is a wedding I will not be taking criticism on this opinion. Could it have been written more like a vow? I think not. It’s not quite This Simple Feeling but it’s the best this film has in that regard.

I liked Saavik and I do think she’s one of the better later-movie additions (though I only like her, as far as I can remember, when played by Kirstie Alley). She didn’t necessarily strike me as super alien, though, at least not at first... But I appreciated how persistent she was about the stupid test, and her regulation quoting. I enjoyed her. I also liked how she was obviously Spock’s protege, which makes her Kirk’s step-protege, and they had just a little bit of that awkward dynamic going on. (”Did you change your hair?”)

The Bones and Kirk relationship was great in this film. You can really feel their friendship and their history with each other. Bones knows him so well and can be honest with him, just when Kirk needs it most.

I also love how Kirk has the SAME conversation with both Bones and Spock (re: being a captain again) but with Spock it’s sooooo much flirtier. In case you weren’t sure what the difference in these two relationships is.

Bonus: this bit of dialogue: Spock: “Be careful, Jim.” / Bones: “WE will.” Lol Spock people who aren’t your boyfriend do exist.

Obviously, I cried during THAT scene. Honestly AOS should have taken note about how to do emotional scenes like that: they come after the main action is over and the villain is defeated. Then they hit at the right time and to the right degree. Kirk just slumping down after Spock dies....like he’s boneless...like he doesn’t know what to do... I CANNOT.

I feel so bad for him that I’ll even forgive him that awful eulogy. Spock died for Genesis? Uh, no, he died for the Enterprise, and for YOU. Spock is the “most human”? You shut your whoreson mouth

I remember hating both Carol and David but I actually hated them less this time, Carol especially. My mom is being really harsh about her, though, which makes me feel less confident in my assessment. I mean first off, she’s the inventor of Genesis, which is a pretty big strike against her. Second...pretty lame to keep Kirk from David. Although I did some vague math and Kirk would only have been about 21, still in the Academy, when David was born, so you can see how that would work out. Also, she distinctly says “Were we together?” which means they were not--this was a fuck buddy arrangement for sure. More complicated. But it still feels weird to retcon that, like, he’s known THIS WHOLE TIME that he’s a dad and we’re only learning about it now, as an audience.

Anyway I’m getting off track. Carol. What to make of her? Is she unstable? Is she still mad at Kirk? My mom points out that she just decided on her own that David would want to join Starfleet if he knew Kirk was his father--whereas what seems to have happened instead is he didn’t just become a civilian scientist like his mom but became her specific protege--working on a project where everyone was probably handpicked by her? I would assume? Also..he hates Starfleet. Not to put everything on the mom, but how did that happen?

Also...going down the rabbit hole of this and feeling awkward about it... but David KNEW Kirk. As “that guy you hung around with.” That means Kirk was in his life for quite a while, long enough for him to have memories, and long enough for those memories to still be with him even into his 20s. But he was never allowed to know who Kirk was. That means Carol’s rule must have been “You can see your son but you can’t tell him who you are” which in some way seems meaner to me than just “please don’t contact us again.” If he was already on his way into space, that could even make sense--”I know you’re not going to be able to be a family with us, so let’s not pretend, let’s make a clean break now.” But that wasn’t what happened!

Anyway whatever not to be HAICG!Kirk about this or anything lol

David is mostly annoying because he’s so anti-Kirk lol. I found him least annoying when he came around to Kirk at the end. Another big strike against him: he wore his sweater tied over his shoulders in such a Preppy manner. I honestly don’t see what about him is supposed to be reminiscent of Kirk.

David/Saavik was definitely happening lol. I wish I could have heard that conversation. It sounds like she told him a lot!!! Not sure why she attached herself to this particular annoying human so fast but I guess she did.

....I think that might be all. The uniforms and general styling were much better than TMP (though less funny/entertaining), and it was certainly an enjoyable overall yarn. A lot to pick apart and critique but in a fun way. Will probably watch The Search for Spock soon.

#the year 2020 #2020: star trek #2020: fandom thoughts #star trek tos

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abundanceofsoph · 4 years ago

Text

SkyFire 1: Chapter 13

Aurora’s Birthday & New York 2014

Word count: 2.8k

SkyFire 1 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

Aurora was confused when she and her dads walked up towards the front of the Golden Stag on Saturday evening for her birthday dinner. The chalkboard was set out on the footpath announcing, WE ARE CLOSED: PRIVATE PARTY. “I thought it was just us, Helen and Greg for dinner?” Rori asked after reading the sign.

“They probably closed so that they can enjoy their dinner without worrying about customers,” Tony replied smoothly.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” she said, reaching out to push open the front door. Aurora froze on the threshold as a chorus of surprises tore through the small crowd amassed inside the small pub. She felt her eyes grow warm as Tony stepped up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Happy Birthday Kid,” he whispered, kissing her cheek and gently pushing her forward into the room.

Ella was the first person to rush forward and throw her arms around her best friend. “Happy Birthday Rors,” she cheered. “Were you surprised?”

“Absolutely,” Rori replied. “I had absolutely no idea.” She smiled warmly as she looked around the room, taking in everyone who had come to celebrate her 19th birthday. Helen and Greg were there of course, as was Ella’s mum Rebecca, the Stag regulars Tom, David, Mick and Jim were also there, but it was the unexpected addition of the 5 other men amongst the small group that surprised Rori. Harry’s smile split across his face as their eyes locked, Liam, Niall, Louis and Zayn standing next to him. Helen ordered everyone to pull up a seat as she began dishing up hearty servings of the best looking Sunday roast Rori had ever seen, but before she could take the seat left for her at the head of the table, Harry was by her side.

“Happy Birthday love,” he said, his voice low and husky.

“Thank you,” Rori replied with a soft smile, very aware of both of her fathers watching their interaction. “I never expected you to be here, or the other guys.”

“It was your dad’s idea,” Harry replied, reaching out to take one of her hands in his, playing with her fingers absently as they spoke.

“Which one?” Rori asked.

“Steve. Not sure how he got my number, but he called yesterday to invite me, and I suggested bringing the rest of the band too.”

“Dad probably had JARVIS pull your number off my phone,” Rori said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Harry replied, kissing her cheek before leading her over to the table filled with her family and friends. He pulled out her seat for her and then made his way down to the other end of table to sit with the guys. Throughout dinner Rori found her eyes returning to Harry and his face would light up with a smile every time their eyes met, causing Rori to blush. Tony watched the looks and smiled softly to himself, nudging Steve with his elbow to draw his husband’s attention to the young couples flirting. Steve chuckled softly, happier than he could explain to see their daughter falling in love. After dinner, before the cake was served Rori watched as Harry quietly excused himself and headed towards the toilets. A few minutes later she not so subtly also excused herself from the table. She found him walking back towards the table, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the stairwell leading to her old apartment, out of the sight of the table. She stepped up onto the lowest step, bringing her face level with Harry’s and lent forward to kiss him.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he whispered against her lips when they pulled apart, foreheads resting against each other as their breath mixed together between them.

“Me to,” Rori replied, her fingers tangling themselves in his curls. She pulled him back into another kiss, deeper than the last, her breathing turning shallow as his hands rested on her hips, pulling her flush against his torso. They sprung apart a few minutes later when someone coughed loudly behind Harry. They both blushed profusely as Ella grinned back at them.

“If you two would like to stop eating each other’s faces,” the blonde chuckled, “the rest of us are ready for cake.”

“Be there in a minute,” Rori told her best friend, watching as she turned on her heels and headed back to the table. Rori dropped her head against Harry’s shoulder as she heard her best friend loudly address the group.

“They were sucking face but still fully clothed so we’re all good.”

“OMG,” Rori moaned. “She’s gonna be the death of me.”

Harry chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear. “How likely are your dads to kill me?”

“They’ll probably thank you,” Rori laughed. “They’re honestly the weirdest. They’re always trying to convince me to go to parties and be young or whatever. I mean they were troublemakers their whole lives and then they had this shy 16 year old land on their doorstep and they’re baffled by me.”

Harry chuckled again, lacing their fingers together and tugging her reluctantly back into the main room. Louis and Liam wolf whistled as the pair re-emerged, causing the blush to return to both of their cheeks. “Yeah alright,” Harry said, “lay off.”

“Anyway,” Helen called out, “now that the birthday girl is ready to grace us with her presence again. Who wants cake?”

Harry sat down, pulling Rori onto his lap as the cake was sliced and handed out to everyone. She looked across the table to where her parents were sitting, catching a smirk on Tony’s face while Steve smacked him lightly on the shoulder. “Leave her alone,” she heard him tell his husband. “You’re such a shit stirrer.”

xXx

The morning after her birthday dinner, Aurora met Harry for Sunday brunch at a trendy café in east London. While they knew they were risking being spotted together, neither could say they really cared, and they decided that while they wouldn’t publicly announce their relationship, they also wouldn’t actively try to hide from the world either. Luckily no one seemed to pay them much attention as they ate, chatting happily and nocking their feet against each other under the table. Aurora had often felt herself marvelling at the normalcy of talking to Harry. In the 6 weeks she had known him he had never once acted like the majority of famous people she’d encountered since moving to New York. He didn’t flaunt his wealth; he didn’t name drop other famous people he knew; he was just like any other 20 year old guy Rori might meet at university. They talked about sports, movies, books and other normal things that normal couples talked about, but most of all they talked music. Aurora found that they had similar taste in genres, although Harry didn’t understand her fascination with American country music, no matter how much she tried to explain the appeal of the storytelling and simple chords in her favourite songs. Louise had introduced her to a steady diet of 70s and 80s pop and rock, and she and Ella had obsessed over 90s and 2000s pop, but it wasn’t until she’d moved to the US a few years earlier that she’d really encountered country music. Now her music taste was so varied her go to playlists would jump from the Beatles to ACDC, Lady Gaga to Rascal Flats, Backstreet Boys to Linkin Park or Mayday Parade. As she’d told Harry, she firmly believed that enjoying every genre of music made her a better song writer.

xXx

The Stark-Rogers remained in London for another week and while Aurora made sure to spend plenty of time with Ella and her mum, she also spent as much time as possible with Harry. She hung out with Louis quite a lot as well, finding that other than Harry, he was the band member that she got along with the easiest and they were fast becoming great friends. The day before she was scheduled to fly home to New York, she was lying on the sofa in Harry’s house, a movie playing on the flat screen that neither were paying attention to. Her head was cushioned on his lap, a blanket pulled up to her chest despite the crackling fire nearby.

“I don’t want to go home tomorrow,” she said, looking up at Harry. “These last 2 weeks have been so incredible.”

“I don’t want you to go either,” he replied. “But I’ve got 3 more months before tour prep starts, so I’ll fly out to see you a couple times and then you can come spend summer with me. It’ll be great.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’m so glad you get along with the guys,” Harry continued. “It’ll make it so much easier for you to join us on tour.”

“I’m glad they like me,” Rori agreed.

“Like you? They love you,” Harry laughed. “You and Louis together are gonna be a pain in the ass. I can already tell.”

“I always wanted a sibling to get up to mischief with,” Rori confessed. “He kind of feels like the big brother who’d buy booze for you and your friends when you’re underage.”

“Louis can’t help throwing out the strong Big Brother vibes,” Harry agreed. “It’s like he spent so many years being the eldest sibling that he skips the friend’s stage and goes straight to sibling mode. He did it with all of us when the band was put together, and it looks like he’s tucked you under his wing too.”

“I’m happy to be there,” Rori said. “I like being a little sister.”

xXx

In mid-February, Aurora was sitting in her favourite on campus café at Columbia, with her laptop, notebook and art theory textbooks spread out across a small table in the corner. She’d been set up there for most of the day, attempting to get her head around her latest research paper, a steady stream of coffee refills, muffins and a sandwich getting her through the hours. A little after lunch she was joined at the table by her manager, Mark. She attempted to push some of her books to the side to make space for him to rest his coffee on the table, offering him an embarrassed apology.

“I know I’m a mess,” she said. “Thanks again for meeting me here, I was just in the zone and didn’t want to pack everything up to trek across town.”

“All good, hon,” he said. “A meeting is a meeting, regardless of where it is.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said a few weeks ago about a solo album,” she said, jumping straight to the reason they’d organised to get together. “I don’t think I’m ready for that yet. I mean don’t get me wrong, the response to Over You was incredible but I just don’t think I’m ready to do an album or a tour or anything on my own yet. Please don’t be mad.”

Mark chuckled as she finally took a breath. “I’m not mad,” he promised. “As your manager, it’s my job to help you achieve whatever it is you want to achieve. Do I think a solo career is a smart move for you? Yeah, I do but I’m not going to push you into it if you’re not ready. I kind of figured you weren’t ready yet anyway since we dropped Over You almost 3 months ago and nothing since. Do you know what you want to do instead?”

“I’ve been writing a lot,” Rori said. “So, I think I could probably start churning out demos a lot faster than I was last year. Might need you to find me a guitarist and drummer.”

“I can do that,” Mark replied, typing the note into his phone to follow up later in the day.

“And then I was thinking I’d really like to do some YouTube collabs, but I have no idea how to make that happen.”

“I can reach out to people for you,” Mark said. “Get me a list of people that you’re interested in working with and I’ll see what I can do.”

Aurora smiled in response. “Awesome.”

xXx

Aurora walked through central park late one night in March. It was dark and cold, but she wore a big jacket, but the party at the San Remo had been so loud that even though she’d known it was a bad idea, she’d chosen to walk home from a party. She should have called Happy to come pick her up given the late hour, but it was only a 20 minute walk, and she relished the quite of the park. She was halfway home when she felt someone walking close behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see a tall guy with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head walking close behind her and she quickened her pace, her heartbeat rising and her breathing rapid. She chided herself for being so stupid as to walk through Central Park alone, well after midnight and tried desperately to come up with a plan. She could call her fathers, the tower was only 10 minutes away, closer given the speed of the Iron Man suit, but they would be asleep, and god only knew what this guy would do in the time it took her dad to get to her. It would be useless to scream for help either, there was no one else in the park. She scrolled through the small menu on her StarkWatch, immediately hitting the panic button when it appeared on the screen. She kept walking, not knowing how long it would take for her Dad to wake up, activate the suit and get to her. She just had to hope he arrived before the guy got any ideas.

As if knowing his window of opportunity was closing, he quickened his pace and in an instant, he was right behind her. Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders, and she was pushed towards the ground but when she looked up from where she lay, her would be attacker was running in the opposite direction while a costumed figure stood above her.

“Are you ok?” the guy asked, offering his hand out to help Aurora off the ground. Before Aurora could even thank the man for saving her, she heard the unmistakable sound of repulsors charging up to fire.

“Get away from her,” Tony warned, his voice low and terrifying as he trained the suits weapons on the man in front of her. Aurora scrambled to her feet, throwing her hands out in a peaceful gesture.

“No, no, no, no,” she stammered, “He didn’t attack me. He saved me.” She could imagine the look of confusion she would see on her fathers face if it wasn’t shielded behind the Iron Man faceplate.

“I’m Spider-Man, by the way,” the costumed man offered. “Huge fan, Mr Iron Man, sir.”

“Jesus how old are you?” Rori asked, swinging around to look at her saviour.

“Aaaah,” was the only response she got in reply. “I gotta go, glad you’re safe.”

Before he even finished speaking, she watched in awe as he shot some kind of rope from his hand and used it to pull himself off the ground and swing away and out of sight.

“What the fuck?” Rori mumbled, turning back to her father to see the faceplate retract.

“Did he hurt you?” Tony asked, concern clear in the set of his brow.

“No, I’m ok,” she promised as he grabbed her around the waist and took off for the tower. They arrived on the balcony a minute later and Tony placed his daughter back on her feet as the suit begin to recede from his body.

“What happened?” he asked, following her into the kitchen and watching as she set about making a cup of tea to settle her nerves, shaking his head when she gestured to a second mug. She explained as the kettle boiled and then took a seat at the island bench, her mug clutched in her hands. “What were you thinking walking home on your own this late?”

“I know,” Rori mumbled. “I know it was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Tony said softly. “I’m just glad nothing happened. Although I can tell you right now, tomorrow I’m gonna find out who this Spider-Man is because if he’s gonna be out there doing the crime fighting thing he’s gonna need a real suit and back up or he’s gonna get himself killed.”

True to his word, Tony did find Spider-Man and after showing up unannounced at Peter Parkers front door 2 days later, he invited the teenager to the tower.

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

#skyfire #skyfire fic #aurora stark #dad!tony #iron dad #step dad steve rogers #stony #stony fic #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #superfamily #harry styles #tony stark

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chicagocityofclans · 4 years ago

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Josephine “Jo” Floyd Hamelin→ Candice Patton → Rat

→ Basic Information

Age: 73

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Born or Made: Made

Birthday: July 30th

Zodiac Sign: Leo

Religion: Deism

→ Her Personality Jo wants nothing more than to help those around her. She's highly intuitive and curious about people. She is skilled at understanding how to talk to other species, and acts at times as a communicator for Nick with the other packs in Chicago. Jo can be quite stubborn and true to her morals, despite what others may want or think of her. She isn't afraid to take risks or jump into action when need be, and is often fiercely protective of her pack and husband. When people she explicitly trusts keep things from her, she often feels immensely betrayed and disappointed. However, she doesn’t hold grudges for long. Jo is caring and has established a close relationship with much of the pack. She has a close ear to the ground and usually knows about the happenings of the pack before anyone else. Jo is much more trusting of the younger members and newcomers into their pack than her husband and the other elders. She believes them at their word, rather than overthinking like Nick. Jo is not likely to learn from her mistakes until experiencing them first hand, and usually has a hard time admitting that she was wrong.

→ Her Personal Facts

Occupation: Head of SUGAR and Owner of Hamelin and Floyd

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Lingerie and Cheesesteaks

Two Dislikes: Being disrespected and Being wrong

Two Fears: Ruining any children she has and The man who changed her never being found

Two Hobbies: Skiing and Darts

Three Positive Traits: Affectionate, Diplomatic, Supportive

Three Negative Traits: Pushy, Defensive, Manipulative

→ Her Connections

Parent Names:

Lettie Floyd (Mother): Jo often had to act like the go-between for her mother and older sisters. She learned how to communicate their ideas without it getting nasty, but was never really able to be mothered by Lettie once she took on that role. Jo went to her funeral, but stood at a distance from the rest of her family.

Joseph Floyd (Father): Jo was very close to her namesake when he was alive. She’d follow him around his auto garage and play with his tools as a little girl. He was killed by a hit and run driver when she was 12, and the police were never able to find the person who did it. Jo was greatly changed by his death and she stepped up and took on the role her father left as best she could.

Sibling Names:

Martha Floyd (Older Sister): Martha was the brilliant Floyd child. Smarter than nearly everyone else in their neighborhood, Joseph and Lettie encouraged her to take her studies as far as she could. Lettie asked her to return to help out after her father's death but she refused. She wanted to continue her education like she thought Joseph would have wanted. This began one of the ongoing arguments that Jo had to mediate between the two women. She and Martha were never close and arguing the two did after their father died destroyed whatever relationship they had.

Kathleen Floyd (Older Sister): Kathleen and Jo were close. She taught Jo how to do her hair, put on makeup, and dress in the coolest fashion. She left the house when Jo was 15 after a fight with their mother over her boyfriend. Jo tried to get her sister to come back home, but only saw her twice before she disappeared.

Thomas Floyd (Older Brother): Thomas was drafted into Vietnam around 5 months before their father was killed. The week before he was supposed to come home for Bereavement Leave he was killed in an ambush. His death meant Jo had to take care of the rest of the siblings while her mother and sisters fought.

Robert Floyd (Younger Brother): Robert was a year younger than Jo and they used to be close before their father died. After Jo was presumed dead, she heard Robert took up being a mechanic and started working at a garage like their dad.

Nancy Floyd (Younger Sister): Jo often had to act as a teacher and mother to her youngest siblings. She’d help them with their homework, help get dinner on the table, and then start on her own work. Jo tried to find out what happened to Nancy, but she must have gotten married and changed her name because Jo lost track of her.

Marie Floyd (Younger Sister): Jo often had to act as a teacher and mother to her youngest siblings. She’d help them with their homework, help get dinner on the table, and then start on her own work. Marie died in her 40s of breast cancer.

John Floyd (Younger Brother): Jo often had to act as a teacher and mother to her youngest siblings. She’d help them with their homework, help get dinner on the table, and then start on her own work. John wrote a book a few years ago about the string of disappearances that happened around hers.

Children Names:

None

Romantic Connections:

Nick Hamelin (Husband and Mate): Jo was cynical, tried, and scared when she met Nick. She’d been used as a teacher, a maid, a mother, and a father all before she turned 24. She didn’t want attachments. Certainly not to a man, especially one as difficult as Nick. But over the years she felt her attraction to him grow and realized he could be trusted to be an equal. She can’t imagine being without Nick now.

Platonic Connections:

Jaxson Idris (Pseudo Son): Nick found Jax half drowned and starved in a sewer. When they brought him home and he shifted back, neither one could believe he was so young. Jo and Nick more or less adopted him, giving him his own room and treating him like the son they never had. It was clear Jax had issues with people acting too maternal or paternal when he was young, and they weren’t sure what his reaction may be if they asked to have him officially join their family. By the time they were sure they were ready and he might be willing, he was already in his teens, and they thought it wasn’t something he’d want.

Ray Hamelin (Brother-In-Law): Ray was the one who rescued her first, and for the first month the only person she’d talk to. He was the only witness at their wedding and she loves him like a brother, despite his childish and at times irresponsible choices.

Max Vanes (Best Friend): Max is one of the few people Jo can feel like an equal to. There’s no posturing or mothering and Max has become an incredible sounding board when Jo gets overwhelmed. She is a person Jo would go above and beyond for if she needed anything.

Piper Taylor (Pack Member): Jo feels for Piper. She has a similar story to hers and recently Piper reached out to her.

Jalissa Toll (Good Friend): Jalissa was the first person to reach out and take care of Jo when she arrived in Chicago. Jo was her Maid of Honor at her wedding, and it was here that she nudged her in Nick’s direction. Jo’s life would be entirely different without Jalissa.

Shelton Mills (Friend): Mills generally seems standoffish on the outside, but he almost always supports the underdogs, and they usually end up on the same side of the argument. His support usually helps persuade the other older members in the group.

Mary Lang (Mentee): Jo knew the exact feeling Mary was going through when her mom died, and was disgusted at Ray, Jim, and Ben for their behavior. Max and Jo took Mary out and tried to make her feel cared for, even a little bit. She’s developed a close connection to Mary and has tried to help her succeed in the pack and as a leader.

Dakota English (Packmember): Jo knows the risks Dakota is taking and is worried. There are a million ways it could go bad, and she’s been tempted to bring Nick, or at least Ray in, though she hasn’t to avoid breaking Dakota’s trust.

Sam Whitney (Friendly): Most of what Jo knows about Sam is through the various men in her life. She’s been the occasional topic of conversation between Nick and Ray over the years; when she first applied to join the pack, and in her recent exploits in London. However, Jo is much more interested in how Jax speaks of her, when he does. She’s glad he has a crush, it makes her less worried about him being so embroiled with his work that he’ll end up alone until he’s in his 400s like Nick and Ray.

Conrad Kale (Friendly): Jo has only really gotten to know Conrad in the last year or so. She has tried to be a support for Conrad in his transition to being 3rd as well as a sounding board for issues with his parents and Ben’s death.

Achilles Idris (Packmember): Jo was surprised when Jax’s long lost brother reappeared. And then she became angry; at Achilles, at Jax almost choosing to leave their pack, and at Cadmus. When things began to settle down and Jax explained how poorly Cadmus treated everyone, including Achilles, her temper died down. She has taken a shine to Achilles in the last five years and feels quite protective over him.

Clara Fields (Customer): Clara, despite her occasional conflicts with Nick, has been a regular customer since Jo opened the shop. She and many other heavies seem to make an effort to shop supernatural businesses when possible. Clara and Jo will often talk about how each of their businesses are going while Clara shops.

Sarah Harris (Associate): Sarah is often the person Jo meets first if a concern or question for the Jackals arises. Many things get settled between the two of them before it ever needs to extend to the alphas.

Liz Snow (Customer): Liz is one of Jo’s best customers. She and Jo have developed a small friendship and occasionally get coffee.

Shannon Harris (Associate): Shannon has recently begun coming with her mother when she visits Jo. She is wondering why Sarah seems to be giving up her position, but thinks Shannon is a suitable replacement.

Cassandra Askeris (Supplier): Cassandra is a jeweller whom Jo purchases from. There was some initial resistance on GOLD’s part, but Jo knew what she wanted and had been coveting pieces made by the witch for years.

Hostile Connections:

Isaac Baker (Dislikes): Baker doesn’t play by the rules set in place by Ogden before him. She thinks the wolves have gotten reckless and are too high up on their horses to realize they’re the smallest fish in the pond.

Tamsin Blaese (Competitor): Tamsin set up a competing store in the Underground not 2 blocks from one of the Rats. She knows business is suffering from something Tamsin is doing and is now considering relocating the store.

Richard Frank (Attacker): Richard was never caught when the Chicago Clan overturned the Philly Clan. He’d been tipped off before and got away while they were concerned over the victims. The clan has been off searching for him ever since, off and on, and Jo is getting concerned they’ll never know what became of him.

Pets:

None

→ History Jo spent most of her childhood playing referee between her family members. Her mother and older sisters fought constantly, and Jo had worked to keep the peace when her father was away. They were poor which generally added more stress to the equation, this only worsened when her father was killed in a hit in run. Then her older brother died in Vietnam right before her father’s funeral. She was 11 and became the one person holding everything together. Kathleen and Martha picked more fights with Lettie after Joseph’s death, and each ended up leaving. Still Jo tried to raise her remaining siblings, even though Lettie gave up on raising her long before.

When she was 24 and walking home from a diner job, she was attacked. She felt arms grab her and a sharp bite on her ankle. When she woke up Richard Frank was standing over her. He explained what she was and his plans to make her his mate. The next 4 months were pure hell, until one day everything changed. A series of men and women stormed into Frank’s home. They claimed they were here to help and that they’d bring them somewhere safe. Some of the others refused to leave, but Jo jumped at the chance. Ray, the man who busted the door down, acclaimed they were headed to Chicago. When she arrived, she wasn’t expecting a house full of rats in their rat form. She often treated her shifted form as a disease, something to hide and only be forced into in high stress situations. She learned that they lived like that there, and found herself questioning whether this was better or not. Slowly, she became introduced to people; Jalissa, Micah, Ben, and of course the ever elusive Nick. They helped her become more comfortable with her form and settle into a very different way of life. She started assisting with the organization and filing of the money from the clan’s theft; it gave her the confidence to begin to speak up and offer her ideas. She was no longer anyone’s referee, maid, teacher, father, potential mate, or whore. Jo accepted that her life may take a change for the better.

And it did. After about 8 years she finally began to acknowledge her feelings for Nick. They’d done quite the dance around each other, and she wasn’t actually surprised when he asked her out. He took her to dinner and they walked around the city together. Like everything with the Hamelins, it wasn’t what she expected but it was perfect. They continued to date one another for the next 3 years before they got married. Later on Jo created SUGAR and became the head of it, where she can do as much finances as she likes.

→ The Present In the last few months, Piper has reached out to Jo. The younger woman has been in the pack for about 2 decades, but the two of them rarely spoke outside of pleasantries. Piper seemed like she was adjusting well, and Jo didn’t want to drag up any memories or things that could stop her healing process. Out of nowhere Piper asked about her past and the two have begun to chat about their experiences.

Piper has made her begin to reflect on her own past and has encouraged her to bring up hunting down her maker again. She, Nick, and Ray had been trying to hunt down who changed her for the first 10 years after she moved to Chicago, but the leads ran cold. Jo was willing to let it relax in favor of her own ability to move on. She wants to ask Nick to try and find leads again, and send whoever he can spare on BOND to start looking for Frank.

#Josephine Jo Floyd #Jo Floyd #Josephine Jo Floyd Hamelin #Jo Floyd Hamelin #Jo Hamelin #Josephine Hamelin #taken

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looselucy · 6 years ago

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The Tin Mouse

Louis was already seated at the pub by the time I got there, a pint lifted up to his lips as he waved me over to the corner of the room. I gave him a big smile to show I’d noticed him before going over to the bar and ordering myself a pint.

Thankfully, it was rather quiet in there that night. Due to the lack of options when it came to drinking spots and how small and quant our village was, you never really knew whether you’d walk in there and it would be chockful or the total opposite. That night, there were a few elderly locals in there on their own enjoying some ales, but that was about it. “Y’alright, Jim.” I greeted a regular at the shop who was enjoying some alone time at the bar. “Aye, not bad, are you?” “Yeah, m’alright. Saw your Liz at that self-defence class earlier.” “Aye, she said it was alright.” “Yeah, seems decent.” My drink was passed over to me, and I passed back the exact change. “Thank you. See you soon, Jim!” “Nice to see ya, love.” I scuttled over to Louis quickly, wanting to tell him about the guest who would be joining us at the pub that evening. I was still trying to wrap my head around it, really. It was a big enough deal that he’d moved to Rosebury at all, it had gotten everyone talking. That combined with his self-defence classes, his obscenely loud motorbike and the house he’d moved into, he was enough to send us all into a tizzy, and that was excluding how gorgeous he was. The dynamics of the friendship group I had known and loved so dearly since I was around nineteen years old hadn’t really changed over the years. Even when it came to Sam, he and his best friend Tom hadn’t been fully involved; they’d join us at the pub every now and then and it certainly wasn’t odd when they were around, but since our breakup, it hadn’t happened and they certainly weren’t missed. Though things were still hazy when it came to him, they hadn’t been joining us in our social activities and I was thankful of that, nor was it a shock to the system. This Harry chap joining us at the pub was the biggest shakeup our group had seen for a while. “Hi!” “Y’alright?” He returned. I skipped over to Louis, sitting down right next to him, so close we were touching, despite the many seat options. He seemed very puzzled, scowling as he looked me up and down. “Guess what?” “What?” “We have someone new joining us for drinks tonight.” “What?” He whelped. “Who? I swear to god, Alf, if it’s fucking Sam-” “Nope. I promise.” “Then who?” “OI OI!” We heard from the doorway. Lincoln and Libby had arrived, having to grab our attention for a moment before they went off to the bar, Lin offering drinks despite the fact he could see we both had almost full pints. We politely declined. “C’mon,” Louis encouraged. “Who’s joining us? IS IT NEIL?” “No. Well, I dunno, I haven’t spoken to Niall. Maybe he’ll bring him. That’d be interesting.” “Then who? Spit it out?” “Uh… It’s weird. It’s the guy who ran the self-defence class today.” Another alarmed look shot across his face, clearly rather sceptical already, and I can’t really say he was alone in that. Being from such a small place, it was so easy to become trapped in a certain routine, it was one of the many reasons I’d stayed with Sam for longer than I maybe should have. It shouldn’t have been so odd having someone else join us for an evening in the pub, but it was. “Really? Isn’t he really old?” “No, he looked around our age. Chloe is in love so… she forced me to invite him.” “So I’m guessing he’s not the guy who mugged you then?” “Nope.” “Good. Be weird if he was and you still invited him for a drink. I know you’re pretty forgiving but that’d be a step too far, I reckon.” Lin and Libby were with us then, pulling up stools and giving us friendly greetings and I could immediately tell that Lincoln was excited, which made me think Libby had updated him on the fact we had a guest for the evening. “You told him?” “Yeah, he’s buzzing his tits off.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t bloody wait.” Lincoln beamed. “We need a replacement for Sam. We need a shake-up. So much stuff has been happening recently, I’m bloody loving it. Not that I loved you being mugged, Alf, but… y’know. It’s exciting, innit?” Louis buried his face in his hands, cringing over the way that Lin spoke about what had happened to me, but it genuinely made me laugh. It was nice to have people not take it too seriously and make it this thing to fear, rather it was just something that had happened that I could move on from with more ease than I thought was possible in the first few days after it had happened. “If the shake-ups can just stay as attractive men rather than people being strangled,” Libby huffed through a smile. “I’d really appreciate that.” “Wouldn’t we all.” I added. “Is he a looker?” Louis asked. “He’s alright, yeah. That’s why Chloe is obsessed.” It was almost as soon as I’d said her name that Chloe burst through the door, wearing a very tiny dress which must have been extremely unforgiving in the bitter winds outside, but I knew that the weather was the last thing on her mind. “I can see your nipples a mile off.” Libby joked as she made her approach. “Good. I’ve got good nipples, I should show them off more. Do I look okay?” We all answered at the same time with different variations of telling her just how amazing she looked, causing her to be smug as she took her place around the table, checking back over her shoulder for a second to watch the door, waiting eagerly for the newbies arrival. I suppose that was another reason to be eager, really. Living in such a small town meant there were an alarming lack of men available to us, so of course she was jumping for joy at the sight of a new one who was actually our age. As wonderful as it was living somewhere so idyllic, it certainly had its downfalls, and that was one of them. Chloe was practically claiming him and I couldn’t blame her for jumping so eagerly at such a rare opportunity. “So, are you wanting a bang tonight or are you wanting to marry this guy?” Lin asked her, clearly quite amused by the situation and her obvious excitement. “I dunno, I haven’t thought about it.” “Clearly.” He huffed sarcastically. “I just want him to know that I am here and I am available and-” “You have great nipples?” Louis quipped. “Exactly.” Looking over her head, I watched the man of the hour walk through the door, hands in his pockets and teeth gnawing nervously at his lip, searching rather frantically for a face he knew, soon turning his head to see me smiling his way, attempting to be welcoming. “He’s here,” I whispered, trying not to move my mouth too much so he wouldn’t catch on that I was clearly talking about him. “So everyone be nice and welcoming and not weird.” Harry seemed different as he approached us then. After experiencing his class, I only really knew him as this confident man who could control and own an entire room with what seemed to be little effort, but as he came to a standstill just behind Chloe, all I could see was how anxious he was. I couldn’t imagine how difficult that would be, moving somewhere completely new, completely alone. I knew that we were all hugely set in our routines, so that idea was remarkably odd for us because most of us had grown up in Rosebury and I didn’t think any of us had any plans to ever leave, but even so, the thought of what Harry was currently going through made my own mind uneasy. To situate himself somewhere so small where the people were already so settled and there wasn’t much going on seemed like a lonely venture. I really hoped we could help him not feel that way. “Hi.” I grinned up to him. “Everyone, this is Harry. Harry, this is everyone. That’s Lincoln.” “Y’arlight, man?” “That’s Libby and Chloe who were at the class.” Libby waved, where Chloe did a dramatic turn in order to face him, wildly flicking her gorgeous auburn hair and grinning over her shoulder, Harry looking a little puzzled, sort of dodging her hair but trying to remain polite, still with his hands dug into his pockets. “And this is Louis.” I gestured to my right, Louis elevating himself slightly so he could shake Harry’s hand. “Nice to meet ya.” “Yeah, you too.” He choked, his shake firm. “Um… I’m gunna go get a drink, does anyone want anything?” “I’d really love a G and T.” Chloe batted her lashes, still with her body twisted in such an awkward position I figured her neck was hurting. “Would you like some company?” “Uh… yeah, sure. Thanks.” I’d never seen her leap to her feet quite so quickly, sauntering over to the bar with him, the four of us trying to supress our sniggers but she made it so difficult thanks to her dramatics. It was a side of Chloe we’d all seen before, but didn’t get to see too often. She’d been similar with Niall when he first moved to our village when he was 18 years old; she’d spent a good few weeks practically dangling off his body until he plucked up the courage to inform her that he was actually interested in men, meaning her fascination had died rather abruptly. She was like that, though. Her interests were often fleeting and rarely emotive. Chloe liked to get what she wanted and then she’d lose interest. Chloe was a lot of things, but reliable wasn’t really one of them. “She would eat him alive.” Lincoln noted, turning his back to them and picking up his drink. “I dunno.” I squinted my eyes, keeping watch of the two of them at the bar, witnessing her chewing his ear off. “He seemed totally different in the class today. Pretty sure he can handle himself.” “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Libby agreed. “We’ve probably weirded him out already. Doubt Chloe is helping the situation, but… I dunno. He was a beast today. I think he’d eat her alive.” The gang continued to chat between themselves, yet I simply watched Harry at the bar, silently coming to conclusions before he came over and spoke properly and gave me definite answers. I’d always thought that sometimes conclusions could give you answers about a person that they wouldn’t vocally give you themselves. Even minor movements could mirror emotions. It was clear that he was nervous about his current situation, and his nerves were working as a rather wonderful shield for other signals he was just about revealing. But in the same breath, I could almost see a relief he was feeling, a thankfulness that he was out of the house, around people and meeting people. He was easing and accepting his surroundings. Other than that, I couldn’t get much of a read on him. He was wearing black fitted pants, rolled up slightly to reveal some worn pink converse, the only burst of colour upon his all black look, black t-shirt and thick fluffy jacket to block out the cold. The more I looked at him, the more I came to terms with just how attractive he was. By the time they were walking back over to us, Chloe was laughing manically and Harry had an absurd look on his face that suggested he hadn’t said a single thing that warranted such a reaction, but with a face like that he must have been used to having such an effect on people. “Sit down, man.” Louis tried to create a more normal atmosphere than the one we could see Chloe had created for him. “Tell us about yourself.” “Um… not much to tell, really.” He smiled, pulling out an old barstool and basically straddling it. “Well, I’m Louis. I work in Alfie’s shop.” “You own a shop?” He took his eyes to me. “Yeah. A little wine shop.” “That’s amazing.” “So if you wanna buy any wine, you have to come to me.” “Not really much of a wine drinker myself, but if I ever fancy some I promise I’m all yours.” He was rather quickly becoming the boy we’d met earlier in the day, rather charming, settling himself into the group. I think it helped that we weren’t all at his throat at once; Libby and Lincoln were chatting between themselves, none of us really wanting to overwhelm him. Chloe was kind of between conversations, but her eyes just kept going back to Harry, no matter how hard she tried to play it even just a little cool. “So what’s brought you to Rosebury?” Louis asked him next. “Um… m’not sure.” “No?” “No. I mean… I guess it looked pretty idyllic.” “I know it looks nice and everything, but there’s really not a lot goes on here.” “Yeah, I think I need that.” He spoke, after clearing his throat with a swig of ale, one of the local region ones. “Quiet sounds nice to me. I’m ready for quiet.” The sound of the front door crashing against the stone wall made Harry physically jolt, whipping his head over his shoulder to get his first look at Niall, who had made a rather dramatic entrance and demolished that quiet Harry had been talking about. “NEIL IS A CUNT!” He yelled so fiercely his face was bright red, shutting up the entire pub up, looking as though he was about to yell again before he looked across to the bar. “Oh. Sorry, Jim. Excuse my French.” Jim merely rolled his eyes and went back to drinking his pint. Harry looked back to me and Louis with a giant grin on his face as Niall stormed towards us, and I could tell he liked him already, which was bloody typical. He was charming even when he was cursing like a maniac and had clearly already had a few strong drinks. “Neil’s a massive cunt.” He declared once again when he’d reached us. “Yeah, we gathered that.” Louis sniggered. Harry turned his head to gage Niall again, trying to be subtle about it, but he’d caught his attention almost instantly. “Hello, are you a gay man?” Niall looked down to him, hands on hips, tone solemn. “What?” Harry baffled. “Are you gay?” “Uh, no. Sorry.” “For fuck sake. Fine. Niall, nice to meet you.” “Harry.” They shook hands briefly before Niall marched towards the bar, every single move and step he made large and filled with frustration. “Uh… So that’s Niall.” Lincoln offered. “He’s one of us.” “And who’s Neil?” Harry asked, still grinning. “He went on a date tonight,” I answered. “I’m guessing it didn’t go too well.” Harry looked extremely eager to hear the tale by the time Niall was stomping his way back over to us, finishing off the first quarter of his pint before he’d even sat down. He pulled up a stool between Chloe and Lincoln, everyone just waiting in silence for him to begin. Niall wore his heart on his sleeve and his humour on the very tip of his tongue at all times, meaning that I already knew he was extremely disappointed with how his night had turned out, but he was going to turn the whole thing into a joke so he could stomach it and make light of it rather than let it bother him. “So we’re there, right, at this restaurant, having a nice time, and then the fucker decides to tell me that he has his literal dick out under the table and was wondering if I’d like to have a good go on it.” “You’re fucking lying.” Lincoln declared, but his eyes were so wide it was clear that he did believe him but found the situation as unfathomable as it was. “Unfortunately, I’m absolutely not fucking lying.” “I would have literally called the police,” Libby commented. “That’s prime pervert behaviour.” “I should have, shouldn’t I? Damn. That’s a missed opportunity.” Niall had experienced many terrible dates, but that one was certainly the worst we’d heard of. I noticed then that it had very quickly become extremely natural having Harry there with us. He had slotted himself in quite nicely, meaning that we’d gone from being so aware that someone new was joining us to simply feeling as though nothing had changed, like everything was how it always had been. He’d slotted himself into our foundations quite nicely. “So what did you actually do?” He asked Niall. “I just left! I’ve been thinking about all the cool and hilarious stuff I should have said to him, but at the time I had nothing. The whole evening has just been extremely disappointing.” He huffed. “Sorry, not to be rude, but who’re you? You’ve just appeared.” “My names Harry.” He chuckled. “I just moved here. I’m running the self-defence classes so I met the girls tonight and they invited me.” “Oh! Well, nice to meet ya. I’m Niall. You sure you’re not gay?” “If I was, I’d take you out in a heartbeat.” Though the news of Harry’s sexuality was a tough blow for Niall, I could see Chloe coming to life over the confirmation, leaning a little closer to him again, fluttering her lashes. It couldn’t have been possible that Harry hadn’t caught onto how she was acting and what that meant, but he definitely wasn’t acknowledging it, for whatever reason. Even Niall had humoured her a little bit when she had been the same way with him. She was gorgeous, it was almost foolish not to! But Harry acted as though he hadn’t seen her batting her eyelashes at him, flicking her hair, laughing at nothing and staring like he may disappear before her eyes. I think we all hoped he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. We all liked him instantly.

“What the fuck do I know about fear? It’s not my place to tell women what they should be scared of, y’know?” “Yeah.” He was fascinating. He was engaged and animated and passionate and it was just amazing to be wrapped within the energy he was creating as he spoke about his job. The group around us were missing out, because somehow this was now just a conversation between the two of us whilst the rest of them babbled on about nonsense, and if I wasn’t so wrapped up in what he was saying I would have stopped the conversation just to get everyone else to listen; to hear what he was saying and feel his avidity. “And like… I’ve never said my classes are just for women, never. But it’s only ever women who show up, because you are the ones who experience this fear so often. We can’t relate. I can’t relate to that. It’s women who have to feel threatened, just for fucking existing. I shouldn’t tell you what to be scared of, you should tell me, because what the fuck do I know about it?” I nodded, my empty glass still in my hands because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I swear he hadn’t even blinked the entire time he was talking, he just stared right back. “Haven’t you ever been scared?” I leaned a little closer, hushing my voice just slightly. “I mean… haven’t you ever felt that fear?” “I’ve been scared.” He lowered his tone too, becoming almost sombre as he spoke. “I’ve been terrified. I… I know fear, well. But… I don’t feel afraid walking down the street. I don’t feel afraid at the pub. I don’t feel afraid at work. That’s the kind of thing that women have to deal with all the fucking time, and it would be naive of me to say I understand that. I know fear, but I don’t know what it’s like to feel afraid in the places where I’ve always felt safe.” Until recently, I had felt rather safe in my life. Rosebury was quant and calm and the kind of place where it didn’t really feel like there was much to fear. We were all lucky in that sense, but I still completely understood and agreed with him and what he was saying. There is a fear ingrained and taught to women that men couldn’t possibly understand. “Does your job feel like a noble thing to you?” “No.” He answered quickly, which I liked. “Does it feel like… just going to work?” “No.” He repeated, with just as much speed. “How does it feel?” “I… I don’t know. I just know I love what I do.” I liked his answers. I liked the fact he didn’t see himself as this saviour, someone we all needed who could guide us and impose wisdom, but it wasn’t just some humdrum job to him either. I think he saw the need for the classes he held, understood it beyond just teaching women. He saw the reasons those classes truly needed to exist and I got this impression from him that they felt like something he needed to do. It made me all the more intrigued about him. “You’re interesting.” I leaned back, tilting my head and scoping him. “I’m not.” “I think you are.” “Well, thanks.” I couldn’t smile at him for too long, because looking over his shoulder, I saw Sam and Tom wander into the pub, Sam’s eyes automatically on me because he knew where our spot was in there. I cursed quietly, leaning back against the wall and tilting my head downwards, but still keeping my eyes on him as he sauntered over to us, hands in his pockets, mood blatantly low. I could practically feel everyone around me tense up, other than the blissfully unaware Harry. My situation with Sam was currently in a bit of a grey area and everyone knew that, but we’d kept it between the two of us at the same time. Since we’d broken up, I only saw him when it was just the two of us round at my place, because at least then it was our situation that we didn’t need to impose on anyone else and create an awkward atmosphere. I could tell things weren’t going to go well before he’d even opened his mouth. “Y’alright, Sam?” Lincoln choked. He came and stood beside me, glaring down to his left to get a good look at Harry, scowling sinisterly and refusing to look anywhere else. Harry raised his head and looked back at him, catching onto the atmosphere but clearly not understanding it. Sam almost sniggered before he spoke. “Who the fuck is this?” He grimaced. “Nice, Sam.” Louis huffed. “As polite as ever, I see.” He ignored him, continuing to glare at Harry as though hoping to intimidate him, but as far as I could see he was failing miserably. Harry hadn’t said a word, he’d barely flinched nor blinked, he simply stared up to him. I swear he was even on the verge of smirking. After a while, Sam faltered, quite clearly struggling with the fact his bravado wasn’t seeing him through a situation in the way it usually did, running his tongue across his teeth before turning to me. “Can I talk to you?” “Do I have to?” “Yeah.” “Fine.” I shot up to my feet, glad to be taking the following conversation elsewhere, noticing a rather drunken Irish lad before we left. “Niall, keep Harry entertained.” I caught a little bit of what Niall was saying just before we walked out the back door towards the smoking area where our relationship had ended only a week prior. “So, tell me, Harry… which specific gods carved your face?” The fact I was giggling by the time we were both outdoors only seemed to sour his mood further, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his back pocket, shaking his head as he lit one up. “Why’ve you got a face like a slapped arse?” I asked him, folding my arms. “Who the fuck is that guy you were talking to?” “He’s the guy running the classes I was telling you about.” “The guy who bought the house in the woods?” “Yeah.” “The fuck? That place must be worth a fortune. How old is he?” As much as he was frustrating me, I understood it at the same time, his attitude made sense to me. I wouldn’t have liked to walk into my local and find Sam talking to a girl I had never met before, so I had to go easy on him and switch our roles so I didn’t snap at him. I didn’t appreciate him being so rude, but I definitely understood why he was acting that way. “I dunno. Only met him tonight so can’t say I know much about him.” “Why’s he even here?” “Why’re you even here?” “You don’t own the damn pub, Alf. I can come here if I want.” “You knew I’d be here, so what do you want?” More often than not, we’d go to the pub on a Wednesday night. It felt like the perfect way to break up the week, and our Wednesday night spot had always been The Tin Mouse. He knew I’d be there and there was definitely a reason he had turned up beyond wanting a drink. He took a few drags of his cigarette before shyly looking back at me, admitting why he’d shown up. “I was wondering if I could stay at yours tonight.” He asked rather timidly. Despite the fact I kept letting him into my flat and fucking with both of our heads in the process, I’d been persistent and clear with the fact I was confident our breakup was the right thing and I didn’t have any plans to fully rekindle with him. He knew my company wasn’t a given. “No,” I sighed, rubbing over my eyes with the back of my hand, fibres of mascara dropping to my darkened beds. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” “Why? We’ve been good the past few nights!” “Yeah, but then you turn up here and act like a prick and I’m reminded why I ended things! It makes me… feel like an idiot for letting you in in the first place. I wanna draw a line under this. We need to draw a line under this, Sam.” “Alf, I need you to understand that I wanna change for you.” He took a step closer, a little life leaking back into him. “I wanna be better. I wanna… make you happy, like I used to. You have to give me a chance to prove myself. Please.” I’d known it was going to be hard. I knew it was right, but I wasn’t numb to the reality of the situation either. We lived in such close proximity, we had a singular group of friends and everyone knew everyone. Then after what had happened to me, I was bound to fall back on something or someone familiar just to give me that sense of security, that sensation of safeness. I knew I would struggle to completely cut ties with him, but what had happened had only increased the difficulty. It would have been hard even if he wasn’t so damn desperate. “I can’t have this conversation again. I can’t keep going round in circles. I’m sorry.” When I looked at him then, I allowed myself to look past the façade I had been seeing. I’d been convincing myself that the only thing I’d been hurting was his pride, the only thing I’d really been shattering was the humdrum reality we shared. But I dropped my guard for a moment, softened my vision and truly saw him. He looked exhausted, both by the situation and physically, his body lacking its usual confident poise, like he could cave in on himself at any moment. I think I’d chosen to ignore that he was aching in an attempt to help myself, to force him to be this body of negativity and amplify all the bad aspects of our relationship and the boy he’d become. But in those moments, I saw the boy I’d loved rather than the boy I’d grown to almost despise. Our relationship ending had really hurt him and shattered his heart. We stood in silence for quite some time, Sam finishing his cigarette slowly. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him seem so reliant on the smoke he was inhaling, like it was the only thing pulling him through, the only thing keeping his tears at bay. “I think I’m like… annoyed at myself. For fucking this up. Y’know I worship the ground you walk on. M’gunna keep… showing you that, as much as I can.” “I’m sorry.” I whispered again. “M'gunna get a pint. I need it.” He threw his cigarette to the floor, clearing his throat and clearing his mind before making his way back indoors, me trailing quietly behind him. All eyes were on us when we got back in there, they weren’t even trying to be subtle about it. It was awkward and odd and made even worse when I noticed that Sam was walking right past the bar and making a beeline straight to Harry. “Look, mate, I’m sorry for acting out.” He offered his hand, which Harry rather hesitantly reached upwards and shook, looking up to him. “It’s just… she’s my girl, y’know? I get like that. I’m sorry.” “Don’t worry about it.” Harry accepted vocally, but his posture suggested otherwise, his face seeming to read that he couldn’t figure Sam out, but what he’d seen he didn’t like; his eyes a little low and his jaw tight. Sam chose to ignore the way that Louis had sniggered when he had said I was his girl, giving Harry’s hand a firm shake before turning on his heel and heading towards the bar, not looking me in the eye as he went. I approached where I’d been sat, picking my bag up off the floor. “I’m gunna head home.” I told everyone rather quietly, once again drained after feeling like I’d broken up with him all over again. “Yeah, I’m coming with ya.” Louis agreed, picking up his drink to finish the last dregs of his pint. “Think we’re all done.” Libby added. “We calling it a night?” “I wanna stay and get Harry drunk.” Niall said rather playfully, or at least I hoped. “I think you’ve had enough for everyone.” Louis grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Let’s go.” None of them would have admitted it, at least not to me directly, but I knew that they were cutting their nights short just so I wasn’t walking home on my own. I didn’t like to admit it was something I was worrying about and they didn’t want to admit they were being lovingly overbearing, so none of us said anything about it. We just finished our drinks, grabbed our things, and left. Sam and Tom watched us all from the bar the whole time, mumbling between themselves, to which I paid as little attention as possible. I was just glad to get out of there. The seven of us set off down the long country road together, back towards the centre of our village, our high spirits returning slowly but surely. We could chatter quite loudly between ourselves in that location, due to how far away we were from those slumbering in their homes. The Tin Mouse was a lone building, overlooking fields and cattle and feeling utterly secluded. I loved it there. I noticed that Harry had fallen behind in the crowd just slightly, unsure where to place himself, so I lingered a little, pacing myself so I could walk by his side. He smiled at me softly before dropping his head, watching his feet as he wandered. Niall kept looking back over his shoulder, winking at me before flitting his head towards Harry, as if I didn’t already know exactly what he was winking about. His attention was taken back away when he tripped over his own feet, Chloe practically catching him, the lot of them laughing about something as I looked to my side, gaging Harry. “It’s because of the date.” I introduced a topic. “Huh?” “Why Niall’s being full on with you. It’ll be because of his date tonight.” I clarified. “He puts on a good act, but he’s really soft. He usually flirts with Lincoln when he gets like this, but you’re fresh meat. “Yeah. I mean… that date did sound fucking awful.” “It did.” I sniggered. “I just… I know he’s been a little much tonight, but he’s amazing. He’ll die when he remembers this tomorrow.” “I don’t mind.” He shrugged. “He seems like a really good lad. It’s all fun, innit. I don’t get touchy about this stuff.” “Always nice to be flirted with.” “It is.” He smiled, finally lifting his head and looking to me. “What about you?” “What about me?” “That seemed like… a pretty intense situation back there. You okay?” His voice was sweet, suggesting that he genuinely cared to know how I was feeling rather than simply wanting to know the ins and outs of what he’d found himself in the middle of. “Uh… Yeah, I’m fine. It’s complicated… but that’s my own fault, so… Yeah. I’m good though.” “Good.” He nodded, leaving quite some time of silence and going back to watching his feet as we wandered, before he turned his head back to look at me. “Is he always such a twat?” “Yep.” I answered after blurting out a beast of a laugh. “Pretty much. That’s one of the many reasons I broke up with him.” “Ah, okay. That explains a lot.” He grinned. “Is it recent?” “Just last week. But then… with that guy attacking me… I dunno. Things got complicated. I’m gunna shut up now, I’m sure you don’t wanna hear all this shit. I’m sure it’s a can of worms you don’t wanna open.” “Do you mind me asking what happened? With… the guy attacking you?” “Um… I was walking home on this road last week and he just came from nowhere. He took some money and obviously… hurt my throat, but I got off lightly. I know it could have been so much worse so I’m just trying to focus on how lucky I am and… learn how to throw a decent punch. I’m hoping you can help me with that.” “I can. I will. If you keep paying.” He quipped. I laughed again, knowing that comment shouldn’t have been taken seriously thanks to both his tone and the conversation we’d had a little earlier on. It wasn’t too long later that the turn off down the tattered path to Harry’s home appeared just ahead of us, all of us aware that he was about to veer off and leave the group because we knew the place he’d bought rather well. “Hey, I have a question.” Lincoln spun around, steadily walking backwards to keep his eyes on Harry. “For me?” “Yeah. How come you bought that house?” “Why wouldn’t I?” “Ignore him.” Chloe looked over her shoulder. “It’s this thing the kids do round here. That place has been abandoned for years before you bought it.” “I used to go there when I was little.” Lincoln told him. “Me and my mates used to go up that path and freak ourselves out. We’d convince ourselves we saw people in the windows and stuff.” “He’s still superstitious about it,” Chloe continued. “So that’s why he’s asking.” “It’s run down as fuck!” Lin tried to justify his question for a different reason other than the fact we all knew there was still a very sweet and innocent part of his mind that still felt eerie and spooked at the thought of that house. “It won’t be when I’m done with it.” Harry answered. “And it’s like… pretty far removed from everything else.” Lin added. “Too far away from me.” Niall groaned. “Yeah. I like that. I like… quiet. I wanted somewhere secluded, so it’s ideal for me.” He explained. “You won’t think it’s haunted once I’ve worked my magic on it. And like… the inside was barely touched, it didn’t look run down at all! I fell in love with it, I had to buy it.” Lin shrugged, pretending to understand his reasons for buying that house but clearly being baffled by it, before turning back around so he was walking forward once more. I didn’t necessarily want our night to come to an end. I’d spent the last week cooped up indoors feeling sorry for myself with Sam by my side, so it had been truly refreshing and lovely to not only get out of the house, but to spend my evening with someone new, who had new-fangled stories to tell and opinions to share. I loved my friends dearly, but the shake up of having Harry around felt almost needed. I looked down the dark path that Harry was just about to take, the way it was woven between the trees meaning we couldn’t quite see his house. Even that sight, the tall trees looming over the road between them, obscurity dripping from their branches, a heavy gloom that seemed to suggest light had never touched the surface; it did feel a little sinister. “This is me.” Harry slowed himself down. “I just wanted to say thanks for inviting me. It’s been nice, so… cheers.” We all stopped ourselves to bid him a proper farewell, Louis reaching out to shake Harry’s hand, both Chloe and Niall looking at Harry wistfully as though they could feel him slipping through their fingers. “Nice to meet you, man.” Louis made sure to be extra friendly. “You’re welcome to chill with us whenever.” “Day or night!” Niall added for good measure. We all started saying goodbye, taking slow and steady steps down the rest of the road, but bloody Niall was lingering like a lunatic and Harry caught onto that, smiling and shaking his head. “Niall, c’mon!” I tried, struggling to take his hand and drag him off with us. “I miss you already.” He sulked to Harry. “He’s gunna regret every fucking word tomorrow.” Libby huffed. During my attempts to literally pull Niall away, I noticed that Harry was fully grinning; a devious smirk appearing on his lips he took a step towards Niall, leaving me questioning “Oi, c’mere.” He simpered. He ticked his head, then reached up and forcefully pinched Niall’s chin with his fingers and thumb, dragging his face to crash into his, smacking a huge kiss on his lips. I was staring at the minor interaction in disbelief, Niall looking utterly dazed as Harry pushed his face back away after only a second, completely unsteady on his feet. I could hear a few laughs and applauses coming from behind me, but I just stared at Harry, seeing how wonderfully smug he appeared. “Better than Neil, right?” He raised one brow, so tempting and gorgeous that I found myself subconsciously biting my bottom lip. Niall couldn’t even muster up the strength to reply. “Is that gunna shut you up?” “I’m never shutting up about this.” He managed to gasped. “That’s all you’re getting from me.” Harry turned to walk towards his home, grinning over his shoulder. “It’s enough.” “Cheer up, alright? You can do better.” He yelled to make his voice clear. “Goodnight, team. Thanks for having me!” I wasn’t sure Niall would ever walk again. He just had his hand on his chest, keeping his eyes on Harry as he wandered home, hands back in his pockets, and although I couldn’t see his face I knew for a damn fact that he was grinning wildly. He had to be. It took a while for Niall, and me, to find our sense again. By the time we’d stopped gawking, Harry had disappeared into the darkness, vanishing before our eyes and leaving me questioning if he had just been a figment of my imagination the whole time, if my eyes and my mind had been playing tricks on me and conjuring up a boy so interesting I could forget about all the distressing things that had been happening in my life, just for one night. He didn’t seem real to me. “Really? He kissed Niall?” Chloe grovelled loudly. “Of all fucking people, wow.” “I really like him.” Louis spoke fiercely. “Really fucking like him. He’s sound, we’re keeping him around.” “Agreed.” Lincoln added. “Niall?” Chloe continued. “He kissed Niall? He’s not even fucking gay and he kissed Niall? When I’ve been here with my great nipples all night?” “Did that just happen?” I giggled. “If I had known harassing him all night would have gotten me a kiss, I’d have done it!” She prolonged her whining as we continued our journey to town. “I’d have been totally fine with that!” As the group began discussing and laughing together, speaking of the boy we’d spent our evening with, I found myself continually checking back over my shoulder, as if I was trying to get one last glimpse of him even though I knew he was completely out of sight. There was something about him, something that made me want to learn, pick him apart and study the pieces one by one with care and precision. He’d captured my attention in abundance and I knew I wasn’t the only one who was feeling that way, and it wasn’t just because he was new and he’d bought that house and he was running those classes and driving that obscene motorbike, it was him. There was this aura around him that I wanted to submerse myself within; he had an energy that I could barely fathom. I realised then that Sam didn’t just feel threatened because Harry had been talking to me, but because there was something about him that felt otherworldly to people like us. Trying to shake the feelings he’d inflicted, I scuttled so that I was beside Chloe, who was now marching along with her arms folded across her chest. “Did you chat with him much?” I queried. “Barely.” “You’ll get your chance, don’t worry.” “Nah, I’m done. Y’know what I’m like if I don’t get immediate attention, I just give up. It was a nice thought.” “You give up too easily. Give it a chance, just… don’t use Niall’s technique. I don’t think that would have worked with any other person.” “I’m not getting my hopes up again.” The dull and sparse flickers ahead of us confirmed we were just about to cross the bridge and reach the centre of our village, and I would be the first drop off. There wasn’t much more there than a gathering of cottages, really, with tiny roads veering off from one another to create a small space of homes and stores and pubs and not much else. There were hills in the near distance around the whole village, which only strengthened the seclusion we felt, being buried into a small valley. I loved it there. I never wanted to leave. I lived above the wine store I ran; the top floor was my home, the ground floor was the shop, and the cellar was part of the shop and also used for most of my stock. I had everything I needed in one building. “This is my stop.” I smiled towards the small white sign that hung above the front door, Witchcraft Winery. “Thanks for another interesting night. See you all soon!” “See you in the morning!” Louis bid loudly over the other goodbyes I was receiving. “Bright and early!” Before letting myself through the front door, I watched my friends wandering off down the road together, laughing, talking, being so happy in one another’s company, and I found myself smiling. I just stared and smiled and had this feeling that everything was going to be okay. Life would go on and I’d get back to normal and figure everything out, slowly and steadily. But I didn’t know that the boy we’d met that night would change my humdrum existence. I didn’t know what he’d end up meaning to me. I didn’t know.

#HAPPY FUCKING SUNDAY #LETS GOOOOO #HBS4 #this is a long one #almost 8000 words #lap it up #1dff

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rooneywritesbest · 5 years ago

Text

The Horsemen

By Cory Benoit And Brendan Rooney

Takes place in the quaint town of Springdale which was built over an Indian burial site underlining and alluding mystery. We open to the 4H it’s a bar. The horsemen are the title of a group of friends who are essentially brothers. The horsemen are enjoying Guys night when they hear it’s karaoke night what could go wrong

John - 21-year-old leader of the solves the problem (Action Man)

Jose - 21 yrs old Brain of the group

Jim - 21 yrs old Moral compass of the 4H sees the problem but can’t figure it out

Mackie- Funny outgoing, caring, tries to do the right thing all the time also trying to get out of the shadow of the 4H

Melanie - New girl working or in town

Johnny: Hey Guys another night at the 4H Does this mean we are officially horsemen because were regulars all the time. They literally have our faces on the wall of fame.

Jose: Maybe in your mind but isn’t it the wall of shame. I Mean Mackie threw up last month when we were here.

Jim: Lol maybe you guys are right what do you think Mackie.

Mackie: I think it's time to order actually boys.

John: yeah you're probably right Jim - Mackie look at the new hottie at the bar absolutely smoke screen.

Jose - Well mack go get it.

Mackie- I don’t know boys she looks like she’s staring into my soul.

Johnny - Tell you what Mack I'll take a shot. Here I go boys

Melanie - can I help you another drink or closing your tab?

Johnny - Nah just shooting my shot and see where im getting

Melanie - Nice try and no thanks scurry back to your little fraternity over their

(Feeling a sense of shame and being upset John swallows his hubris and proceeds to walk back to the horsemen)

Mackie - Damn Johnny you got crucified up there by the bombshell

Jose - Using those big words again Mack trying to play out of bounds

Mackie -Screw you Jose I don't see you trying to stand out and make a name for yourself

(Jim proceeds to smack Mackie on the head almost to wake him up from his tangent)

Jim - Come down to earth Mack and relax bro the waitress is coming back boys you ready to order yet

Melanie alrighty you four ready to order. (Melanie has a sense of disgust for the four sitting like they owned the bar.

Mackie - I’ll have a beer and a burger

Jose - steak for me please, seasoned, and medium rare

Johnny - Uh i'll have Wings and I’m sorry for before we noticed ya wasn’t from these parts

Jim- I’ll take a sampler platter

Melanie - So Btw horsemen I guess that’s what they call you guys. There is a karaoke night going on maybe you should join

Mackie - What uh no thanks singing is for chumps.

(Mackie suddenly gets an urge or a gut feeling then Mackie realizes karaoke sucks but only says that because he has ulterior motives because Mackie doesn't possess the ability to sing.)

Mackie- You know what actually I’ll give it a try.

Johnny - Mack attack you sure you wanna go up there

Jim - Mack we know you can’t sing you sound like a dying whale

Jose- Do you bro remember boys Mackie just being Mackie

(Mackie goes on the stage looks over at the 4H and scolds and scolds himself for getting himself in this predicament. Mackie warms up and makes a whale like sound which proves to himself that he can't sing. Sweating bullets on the stage.)

Jim- So you heard it here first I’m telling you boys shammu wants his voice back

Mackie: all right everybody got a mop this won’t take very long (im getting nervous Mackie has a sense of fear painted on his face)

Extra - here’s the mic here is the screen go break a leg. Big guy

( Mackie gets the mic he feels an earthquake below his feet but notices no one else is feeling the same which Mackie feels nervous.) (The earthquake is figurate because it’s a shift in the tone and emotion of Mackie) But I feel I could put an audio bite in the BG

(Mackie starts to sing a little)

(Melanie is seen talking to the horsemen with a sense of amazement on her face. The others are surprised on what is occurring)

Melanie - Wow so boys Mackie is really good did you guys know he could belt like Sinatra

Jose- That’s just Mackie being Mackie

Jim- The Machine is probably doing it for him

Jose- I don't know guys. I feel like what if it’s something else. I really think it’s more than autocorrect something about that machine don’t seem right?

Johnny- Sweetheart The Mack cannot sing it’s just not possible if he could sing then I'm an alien in disguise but that’s a big joke

(Jose proceeds to get up and walk around to solemn apologize for Mackie singing even though the crowd starts to boo Jose)

Jose- Hey everyone here sorry for the torment on your ears they are probably bleeding by now

Melanie - Sounds like maybe you guys should pay more attention to Mackie from now on. You guys must look like fools not knowing he could sing like that. (Melanie walks away tending back to the bar)

Jim - Maybe the waitress is right btw what’s your name

Melanie - It’s Melanie

Johnny- Boys lets go get the big guy off the stage and buy him a round.

(So the scene ends and now we have A brotherhood. That is broken and torn because of that Microphone. The horsemen play it off quickly dismiss it. But the action shifts to Melanie sketching away on her notepad and Melanie’s design shows Mackie singing afterward)

(Melanie suddenly gets a gut feeling pointing her to the image of the mic cemented in her train of thought)

The scene opens the horsemen sitting around confronting and asking Mackie about what just occurred walking out of the 4H

Jim - So i gotta ask Mack where did that come from?

Mackie - I don't know boys I really don't remember what happened

Jose - Mackie all the ladies were chanting you're name

Johnny: bro that was dope.

( Suddenly Mackie has anger on his face almost a complete 360 of his positive attitude all the time. A vain imprint was on the face of Mackie he looked over at the three with disgust in his eyes).

Mackie - I gotta go and screw you guys. Maybe you know what. Mackie should hit the road and leave the horses in the stable from now on Mackie out.

(The trio felt broken and split Jim being the brains of the group comes up with a theory about what occurred)

Jim - Boys I think Mackie is revoking his brotherhood card. I’m telling you something is wrong with that machine. First off who talks in the third person about themselves. You know what I’m gonna take a further look. Even autotune being invented in the spring of 1997. No one is that good.

Jose- What happened to the mack

Johnny- Boys that’s not Mackie something feels wrong

(Johnny walks to the bar and bumps into Melanie. Melanie being startled proceeds to run away).

Johnny- I'm sorry btw on how I treated you did a great job and the boys and I wanted to give you a tip welcome to the 4H and the quaint city of Springdale.

( But it was Too late the humiliation was already in seeched in his vigor and her mind)

(Next day Mackie has a proverbial fire lit up his ass.)

Mackie arrives at 4H to see the guys sitting alone. Mackie pulls up a chair

Mackie- What’s up dipsticks

Jim: Mackie you're being a douche and you can say yeah yeah whatever but you know it’s the truth. Look inside bro this isn’t you

(The horsemen are playing cards and Mackie gets dealt in)

Johnny - Deal him in boys

Mackie - Cards in time boys Aces boys I win alrighty. So I’m off now. See ya later boys.

(Mackie leaves the table goes to the bar. The 4-horsemen are now dissolving away to the trio comprising of Johnny, Jose And Jim.)

Jim - Jose what’s macks problem he hasn’t been the same since the karaoke night

Jose- Maybe it’s a new Mackie and he wants to test the waters of the social chain I guess. (Jose tries to hide the fact that he’s afraid of what Mackie has become and wants his friend back

Johnny- I don’t know boys maybe we should come back on another music night. Wonder if Mack will actually show.

(Mackie comes back from the bar to tease the horsemen with his newfound talent)

(Jim looks at the trio with a mission about to take place).

Jim- Hey if anyone asks I’m in the bathroom.

Jose- You got it, bro, wait are you sleuthing again? (Jose gets a sense of feeling annoyed)

Jim-Maybe maybe not

Johnny- Just don't get caught.

Scene end

(We return to Jim looking at the karaoke machine and Melanie investigating the disturbance holding a letter in her hand).

Jim - I knew it autotune wasn’t even turned on. So it has be to something else or Mackie can just really sing because I’m all out of ideas. (Jim hears an explicit sound) Whose their?

Melanie- Relax I'm not here to turn you in. I just doing some maintenance getting the machine ready for the headliner. (Melanie feels conflicted should I give him the letter or not?)

Jim- Please just don’t tell anyone about this ok I’m just worried about Mackie. He’s never been this distant.

Melanie- I understand I won’t tell but you kinda should hurry back to your table just saying. (Jim leaves the backstage and joins the trio waiting for the stage to erupt when the corrupted Mackie gets up there.) Whew, that was a close one when should I tell them the truth it has to be soon. I can feel it.

(We pan to the horsemen sitting in their booth feeling lost and confused with a not a glimmer of hope to rescue their friend. Mackie strolls over with a smug attitude emanating from him clouding his judgment.)

Mackie- So boys ready for karaoke again. (Mackie then proceeds to push the horsemen severing the bond) Get out of my way chumps. It is time to grace my kingdom. If you excuse gotta go warm up the pipes.

(Melanie enters the bar holding her notebook sketching an image of the mic pondering till it hit her what if the mic was the problem for the four horsemen)

(Melanie rushes and surveys the bar to find the horsemen to spread the newfound answer to all of their problems)

Melanie - Guys I know what’s wrong with Mackie it’s the mic if we destroy the mic I feel like we can change him.

(The horsemen look at her with a confused look on their faces. Jim then gets up to talk to Melanie about her theory)

Jim- What are you talking about destroying the mic you crazy.

Johnny- Yeah are they gonna put that on our tab or yours just saying,

Jose- Hey are you not telling us something we should know?

Melanie - Everything you need to know is this in the letter please trust me. I can get your friend back i know a way but we have to work together. (Melanie throws the letter on the table. Jim proceeds to open and read the letter. Then the trio’s faces are immediately glued with the impression of a shock to the new-found clue of their investigation.

Jim, Jose, John- what!!!!!!!!!!!

(John Reads the letter with anger and sadness on his face staring at Melanie sensing her guilt.

John- “Dear Horsemen, It’s Melanie aka the hottie from the bar btw thx for that insult but I think I know what’s wrong with Mackie. If you guys claim to say that he couldn’t sing then explain to me in person how did he sing and belt-like Sinatra moving on? When he was up there something was surrounding him. I know it sounds weird and hard to explain. But you need to believe me. So stick with me the town of Springdale is not what it seems. Mackie will continue to spiral down a path of being a jerk and will slowly break away from you guys. I’m telling you this ahead of time to put aside your own truths and pride to save your friend before it’s too late. I know you four are inseparable but the time is now you have to fight for Mackie or you will lose him forever. (Jose stands up with a new lit fire of emotion)

Jose- Boys Mackie is our friend our brother. our fellow horsemen it’s not the 3 horsemen it’s the four horsemen we take on everything together. He fought for us let's fight for him. Whose with me!

Johnny- For the Mack

Jim- For our brother

Melanie- ok ok relax and breathe guys Get Mackie on stage and we can fix this now

(Jim finds Mackie standing at the bar flirting away with his new faux sense of pride and confidence. The first part of the plan is starting to come together. Jim grabs Mackie and walks him to the backstage area)

Jim- Hey Mackie buddy it’s Showtime show the 4H some magic bro

Mack - Alright Jim I never liked you anyone what’s your game anyway.

Jim- I just want to see you sing bro

(Mackie walks to the stage grabs the mic. starts to sing and has the crowd chanting his name like nothing ever seen before).

(Melanie Picks up her notebook and starts to draw a presence of energy around Mackie confirming her theory)

(John now standing next to Melanie sees her sketching away and the aura around Mackie starts to emit from the page to the visible eye).

Johnny- What's that around Mackie? (John says curiously)

Melanie - That John would be dark energy let's just say I have my fair share of knowledge

Jim- So what do you want us to do. Should we get the mic or create a diversion. Your call. I say we stop doing this and leave but that’s just me. But this is for Mack i want the old Mackie back.

Jose- I say diversion turn the lights off and get the mic out of Mackie's hands

Johnny- Melaine your call?

Melanie- do both

Jim - ok let's do this! This all started because of that stupid mic.(Jim interrupts Mackie on stage to get his attention) Mack, I'm sorry for this bro but get off the stage you stink

(Mackie furious stops singing proceeds to fume anger and the darkness around him starts to emit from him being visible to Jim.)

Mackie- What did you say to me out of everyone I thought I trusted you, Jim. You're just a follower you have no identity. (The distraction was going perfect. Jose was in a position calling out orders. Johnny would bullrush the stage and Melania was idling by at the lights waiting to pull the switch.)

Jose - Now Johnny get that mic and break it. Melanie, you got lights

Melanie - Got it

(Melanie turns the lights off for a few seconds. In the dark a fight can be heard for the control of the cursed mic)

Mackie - what's going on hey where's the mic

Jim - Sorry bro but this is for your own good.

(Johnny grabs the mic and then stares at the evil creation but then makes the choice of a hero cementing the role of horsemen leader)

Johnny- I’m breaking it boys just remember Melanie this is going on your tab

(Melanie starts to laugh and roll eyes a little. Then at that moment, The aura disappears from Melanie's notebook and the cloud around Mackie. Jose then starts to talk to Mackie)

Jose- Mack Mack you ok bro?

Mack - Boys what happened i don’t remember anything from the last time. I was up here on the stage

Jim - It’s alright Mack we got ya bud now how about a round of beers on us

Mack - I'll drink to that btw what are we drinking towards anyway

(Melanie laughs and calls the horsemen to the bar then serves the drinks and says)

Melanie - To friends and brothers who are the one and only Horsemen

Johnny- Hey Mel can I talk to you in private what's up with that notebook of yours.

Melanie - Let's just say I don’t think the mic will the end of these disturbances. Just remember Springdale is a scary quiet town but with tales waiting to be written. No offense you guys aren’t ready to fully understand who lives in the shadows and plagues the streets of Springdale. No one is ready for that, for now, See you boys around.

Johnny- Wait stop please your hiding something I can feel it. I know it. (Melaine calls Johnny outside and they converse more in private)

Melaine- Listen Johnny you're the only one. Whose figuring out my story, and your buddy Mackie. The poor guy just wants a place to belong and to break out of your shadows. You may not know but you cast a huge shadow on that poor guy. Just remember you seem different but that’s the thing it’s cool and intriguing about you four something brought you together. Destiny has a bigger plan for you i can feel it. I gotta go.(Johnny walks backs inside the bar almost feeling like nothing occurred in the last couple days. When it really it did but he was happy to have his brothers back.

(The horsemen sit and ponder about what just occurred and with Mackie having no memory and Johnny questioning his thoughts on who Melanie really is and what she told him? Melanie stands outside 4H sketching an image of the horsemen enjoying their drinks. Melanie then looks up and says)

Melanie- Those four really have no idea what really lies in Springdale. However, it may seem crazy destiny has a bigger plan for them I can feel it. (Melanie walks off into the shadows of the night.)

End?

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zombiesbecrazy · 7 years ago

Text

Phantom Pain Relief

Summary: Alfred Pennyworth's days have been rather dull since Bruce Wayne lost his memories, until an unexpected guest shows up on his doorstep.

Set the day prior to Grayson #12

In honour of one of Dick Grayson's many birthdays :)

Word Count: 4366

AO3

Alfred was finding himself with a lot more free time on his hands. Or hand as it were.

His duties under this new, memory-less version of Bruce Wayne were much closer to those of a typical butler; cooking, cleaning, general household tasks. It was a lot less surveillance or medical emergencies than in his previous reiteration of his role and resulted in a lot more consistent sleep patterns and time to himself. He still assisted the rest of the family on a nightly basis as required from the confines of the Cave, but it was a much calmer and subdued than before without Batman overseeing the events.

Frankly, things were dull for the first time in a long time and if he were to be entirely honest, he was getting bored.

He was going to have to get a new hobby soon to keep himself entertained.

It was three o’clock on a Sunday afternoon and he was sitting in his living room with a cup of Earl Gray and a book that he had been meaning to read for months. Sunday had always been his day off, theoretically, but he couldn’t remember the last time that he had fully taken the day to himself before Master Bruce’s memory loss. Yesterday, New Master Bruce (as Alfred had taken to thinking of him) had insisted that Alfred take the day completely off because he had noticed that his butler hadn’t actually done so since his return, and New Master Bruce had thought that was odd.

New Master Bruce had laughed and said lightly “I’m capable enough to look after myself without adult supervision for one day a week, right?” and Alfred had just smiled and replied with “I should hope so, sir” and then provided strict instructions to not attempt to use the stove because that had always ended badly before and amnesia was surely just going to exacerbate that.

A knock at his door came as a surprise.

Before he opened it, Alfred knew that it could have only been a handful of people. Most callers to the manor (who made it past the gate unnoticed) went to the front door. Close friends of the family often used the kitchen side door, but there wasn’t really anyone in that position right now who knew New Master Bruce well enough for that. In case of extreme emergency, those with the power of flight had been allowed to use the north side third floor lounge balcony, but other than that all costumed appearances must be through the various Cave entrances. Not many had that type of access privilege anyway.

A knock at this particular location was an even further rarity, as it was at the little used door of Alfred’s ground floor west wing apartment and it was a door that very few people outside of the family knew even existed. The door was tucked away in a nook of the manor, through a small garden, well out of the way that people couldn’t stumble across it randomly unless they already knew that it was there. He wasn’t expecting anyone today and it made him curious as to who it could possibly be. His only guess was that it was New Master Bruce needing some assistance, but he would have used the inside entrance rather than the outside one.

Unless he had somehow managed to lock himself out of the manor.

When he opened the door, Alfred froze at the sight of the dark haired man before him. He had not expected this visitor to grace his doorstep with his presence ever again.

“Um. Hi?”

It wasn’t often that Alfred Pennyworth found himself dumbfounded, but seeing the previously-thought-to-be-deceased Dick Grayson standing on his doorstep had solidly positioned him as such. Dick looked a little sheepish, clearly knowing that this was an unorthodox situation at best. It was his ‘caught stealing cookies from the jar’ face. Alfred could recognize that specific look anywhere.

Words were failing him, so instead Alfred spoke with his actions and stepped forward to pull Dick into a hug. Dick immediately gave him a tight squeeze back and any doubt Alfred had about his identity vanished; it was a pure Dick Grayson hug. The eldest boy was alive and home. Alfred couldn’t take his eyes off him after they broke apart. It was nothing short of a miracle and it felt like Alfred had finally let go of a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding. “You would expect that with the amount of times that someone who has been thought to be dead comes back into my life that I would be used to it, however, I never am.” He stepped aside, smiling, and gestured for the now grinning younger man to join him inside. “I’m extremely shocked but pleased to see you. Please come in.”

Dick entered and closed the door behind himself, kicking off his shoes and removing his jacket at the same time, and hung it up in the closet behind the door. Bruce, as well as Thomas and Martha before him, had always insisted that the rules were different in Alfred’s apartment. This was Alfred’s home, not part of the manor itself, and should be considered as such. Unless it was an actual life or death emergency, you couldn’t walk in without being invited, as Alfred was not at work and that was to be respected. You were to look after yourself. Titles were not used. It was the only place that Alfred used only first names with the family. Master Bruce had tried to get Alfred to stop using formal titles in the rest of the manor proper years ago, but Alfred had always insisted on the formality of it. It was a part of his job, and he liked the division of such. Dick, as well as Jason, had spent quite a bit of time at Alfred’s when they lived at the manor, but it had been a long time since either one of them had stopped by unannounced, however that probably had more to do with Alfred never taking time off than anything else.

“Alfred! You’re missing a hand!”

Looking down at where his hand used to be, Alfred frowned slightly to himself. “I’m aware, but thank you for your concern. The Joker decided that I was no longer in need of it.” Dick looked like he was going to start arguing about it or make a fuss, but Alfred held up his good hand to silence him. He really wasn’t in the mood for that conversation when there were more pressing issues to discuss. “There is a fresh pot of tea on the counter, if you would like some.” Dick’s eyes flicked back to Alfred’s missing limb, but seemed to decide to drop the matter and made his way into the kitchen. He grabbed a cup and poured himself a drink, and then back into the sitting room and joined Alfred on the sofa. They sat in silence for a few moments, with neither of them really knowing where to start. Dick looked a little nervous like he was expecting to be chastised for his disappearance, which was understandable, but Alfred was just so happy to see him that he couldn’t. Etiquette for such occasions didn’t have a set schedule, so Alfred just decided to plunge in and save Dick from any awkwardness. “I assume that you heard about Bruce. I must infer that he knew of your current living status before all this?”

Dick gave a small nod, and Alfred could see the regret on his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home. I didn’t know until a few days ago. Bruce had me on an undercover mission but dropped out of contact so I came home to see what was going on only to find… amnesia? Seriously? Soap opera much?” He snorted, because even after all they had been through it did really just sound farfetched. He was clearly just getting started though, and Alfred smiled to see him talking animatedly with his hands. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed that particular quirk. “Jim Gordon is in a robot Batman costume? You are missing a limb?” Dick rolled his eyes in what would have been an overdramatic fashion if the story wasn’t so absurd to start with. “I haven’t been gone long enough for things to really go this sideways, have I? What on earth happened?”

Alfred sipped his tea. “After his last encounter with the Joker, Bruce lost his memories as a side effect of dionysium healing him. And once I realized the full scale of it, I may have purposely neglected to inform him of all the facets of his previous life.”

“So… no Batman.”

“No. He is now simply Bruce Wayne.”

“What about the family?”

“He hasn’t really asked about children, so I have not disclosed much, however I’m certain he has done some investigating on his own so he must be aware of your existence. If he were to Google himself it would pop up; all of you are mentioned on his Wikipedia page. If he asks directly, I’ll tell him. I removed some more compromising pictures from the walls, and hidden some personal items from your bedrooms, but everything is still here. He’s just not looking very hard. I think he suspects that things aren’t exactly as they seem, but for now he’s accepting what he’s being told.” Alfred knew that he really should have told Bruce more about the youths that he had taken in, but that would have involved telling him about Robin and he just couldn’t find a way to separate them at the time.

His eyes looked conflicted, but Dick nodded slowly. He may not like it but it was a scenario that Alfred knew that Dick could understand the decision he had made at the time. “Lying by omission. Bruce taught you well.”

“Who do you think he learned it from?” Alfred sighed. “The rest of his background overwhelmed him and I just got to a point where I didn’t want to distress him further. Either of us.”

Dick hums softly. “What will you tell him? If he asks?”

“A variation of the truth, I suppose. Jason and yourself are legally deceased, so I don’t think he’ll dig deep there, though he have questions about you being Nightwing since that was public because of the Crime Syndicates actions. I’ll deny any prior knowledge. Tim has been in regular contact with him, but Bruce just thinks he’s a Wayne Enterprises wunderkind, which isn’t exactly a lie. The jump to adopted son won’t be hard, especially under the circumstances of Mr. Drake’s death, and that Tim’s old enough to rationalize him not living here. Tim has said he wouldn’t mind if Bruce wants to develop a relationship if he finds out, but he’s not going to initiate it at this point. He’s letting Bruce settle in a little more.”

“And Damian?”

“I’ll say that he’s with his mother overseas.”

“Where is he really?”

“Travelling extensively, but when he’s in Gotham he has been staying in the penthouse. Goes out on patrol, sometimes with Tim or Jason or various Teen Titans, but primarily he is on his own. He’s doing better than I would have expected with the situation, but he doesn’t want to speak to his father. I’m just rather glad that he checks in with me daily, at least by text if not a phone call.” Alfred reaches over and pats Dick’s knee gently. “He misses you.”

Instantly Dick’s face clouds over, obviously thinking about how much his absence has been felt by the family. “I’m so sorry, Alfred.” He places his hand on Alfred’s. “For letting all of you think I was dead. I didn’t want to, but you know how Bruce is…”

“Was.”

“Yeah. But because of that you’ve been going through this alone. I should’ve been here. I could have helped.”

“I’m sure you had good reason.” Dick shrugged and stared intently at his drink, looking a little lost in his own thoughts.

A few moments passed in silence and Alfred saw Dick give himself a little shake to regroup. “How have you been doing, Alfred? This can’t be easy on you. You’re looking after him, but who is looking after you?”

“You needn’t worry about me. I’m doing as well as can be expected. It has been different at the very least. It’s been nice to see Bruce happy and healthy and not coming home bleeding every night for a change. I have a lot less in my portfolio as well.”

“You’re bored.”

“So very bored, Dick,” said Alfred dryly and Dick laughed in response. “I had forgotten what only being a butler was like. Most would find it to be a very tiresome and busy role, but after so many years of doing more and having the house run as a well-oiled machine, I don’t know what to do with myself a lot of the time. I’ve caught up with some old friends, read a great many books, but yes. I often find myself without much to keep me stimulated.”

“I’m going to get you a kitten.”

“Don’t you dare. It would just be appropriated by Damian in any case.” Alfred paused. As much as he appreciated Dick asking about him and being concerned, there was much that Alfred still needed to know. How on earth had they found themselves in this situation in the first place? Or was it something that Dick wouldn’t want to talk about, like Alfred and his decision about his hand? “May I ask about the incident with the Crime Syndicate?”

“You know most of it, actually. Captured. Unmasked live on TV. Died.” Alfred raised an eyebrow at Dick’s words, and received a small grimace in return. “I did die, technically, but it was only for a few minutes. Luthor revived me almost immediately.” Dick sucked in a breath. “It really was the only way. Stopping my heart did save everyone. Greater good, you know? I can’t be too upset about it.”

Alfred reached over and gave the younger man’s shoulder a squeeze. “Oh, Dick, you absolutely can be.”

“I’m more upset about what happened afterwards. About letting everyone think I stayed dead. That was a horrible thing to do.” Dick locks eyes with Alfred. “Bruce and I are terrible people to do that to you.”

Alfred squeezes Dick’s shoulder again and then drops his hand to pick up his tea once more. “I wouldn’t say that at all. I’d say that it is unfortunate that that is what it had to come to. There couldn’t have very many viable options if that was the best that he could come up with.” While Alfred hadn’t always agreed with Bruce’s unilateral decisions that he made as Batman over the years, he had come to realize that sometimes they were necessary, and what was necessary wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t something that either Bruce or Dick would have agreed to lightly. “So where have you been, if not in your grave where I had erroneously assumed you were?”

“Spyral. Bruce suspected that they had intel on a lot of people’s secret identities and needed someone on the inside to find out how much they knew,” Dick shrugged. “My death was at a convenient time for the mission. He took advantage of the opening.”

“You’ve been a spy. That sounds like it could be quite exciting.”

“Sort of the same, actually. Less spandex. More hiding in plain sight. Lots of secrets and techy gizmos. My partner thinks it’s cute that I won’t kill people and that more than once I’ve thrown my gun at someone instead of shooting it.” Dick stretched his arms over his head and Alfred heard his shoulders pop faintly. “If anything, I’m overqualified for the job.”

“That can happen when one is trained since childhood. Was the mission successful?”

“I guess. Not as good as it could have been. I give myself a B minus. I’m not sure that it’s been worth what it cost. I’m done though. It’s over.” Dick looked out the window and there was a ghost of a smile on his face as he looked out onto the grounds. “This isn’t my first time home.”

“No?”

“Before I left, I had a huge fight with Bruce in the Cave about the mission. Massive. Destroyed the place. You almost walked in on us and he had to lock down the entrances to stop you.” Alfred instantly knew the occasion. When he had finally gotten access back to the Cave, it had been a disaster. Bruce was bleeding profusely and a Batmobile was crushed amongst much more damage. He had assumed at the time that Batman had done it all himself in a moment of raging grief but this explanation made much more sense. “I was here before they went to get Damian from Apokolips, too. I had some prime Pennyworth sandwiches that night.”

“So you haven’t seen anyone else?”

“You were my first stop. Only person who saw me on my other visits was Bruce. And Titus was pretty excited to see me. I did work a case that overlapped with something Babs was doing a couple weeks ago, but she didn’t know it was me. Or I don’t think so at least, but I really shouldn’t put it past her.”

Alfred hummed in agreement. If anyone had been able to see through whatever cover Dick was using, it would have been Barbara Gordon. “Are you back in Gotham to stay then?”

Leaning back on the sofa, Dick closed his eyes and smiled and for the first time since he arrived, Alfred got the feeling that Dick was truly relaxed. It reminded him of soldiers who had come home from a long time away on only just realizing that his mission was over. It was a look of calm relief. “That’s the plan. Don’t know what I’ll do though. Nightwing was unmasked and Dick Grayson is dead. Gotham has a Batman. Time to start over again, I guess,” said Dick quietly. He opened his eyes again and locked them with Alfred. “I’m going to have to reveal myself to the family if I’m staying.”

“You may want to consider doing that part regardless. They’d appreciate it.” Dick nodded and looked away. He was still clearly struggling with what faking his death had meant to the family and the potential consequences of such. “If you wish, I think Commissioner Gordon might be relieved if a non-robotic Batman were to appear again. Damian would be pleased if you were to take on the mantle again as well.” Dick didn’t like being Batman, and Alfred knew that better than almost anyone, but it needed to be said. The option had to be presented.

“I’ll think about it.” Dick tapped his fingers against his cup a few times. “Do you mind if I stay in the penthouse for a bit? I’m slightly homeless.”

“At this point that’s going to be up to Damian as the primary resident, but I would expect it will be fine with him.” Dick nodded again and a silence fell between them once more, and Alfred couldn’t help but think of other times that Dick had visited him over the years. Dick always appeared calmer here, in Alfred’s home, than he did other places where he was usually in constant motion. He was more likely to sit at rest and indulge in the quiet instead of in the manor or the penthouse. Alfred had never questioned it, wondering if it would break the spell if Dick became aware of the change in himself. Five minutes passed in silence before Alfred broke it. “Do you want to visit with Bruce? We can disguise you and come up with a reason for you to stop by.”

“I don’t know, Alfred. What is he like?”

That was a very good question. What was this New Master Bruce like and how best to describe him? It was something that he had tried to do for others already and had struggled with it. It was a strange position to be in; to reintroduce someone to a person that they had known for years. “He’s very much the same person at the core, but lighter. The weight of the world isn’t pushing him into darkness. The death of his parents doesn’t drive him, but their work does motivate him and he’s doing a lot of charity projects with the Wayne Foundation. He still wants to make Gotham better but is doing it in the light. He’s the person I would like to think that he would have been if they hadn’t been killed. He smiles a lot. He’s seeing a lady that he knew as a teenager who is very kind and openhearted. He’s grown a beard. And not just the usual ‘I’ve been sitting in the Cave for four days and forgot to shave’ scruff. An actual, on purpose, beard.” Dick snorts and Alfred gives him a small smirk in return. “It’s odd. He doesn’t actively remember his former life, but things that he says and does… I can see the person that I raised.”

“Such as?”

“When he first arrived, he didn’t know his history, birthdate or where his room was in the manor, but he knew that he kept his sleep attire in the closet instead of the dresser like most people do. He knew that he took milk, not cream, in his coffee. That he doesn’t like grapefruit without tasting it first. He still prefers blue pens over black pens,” Alfred could feel the smile growing on his face as he continued. “The first morning he came down for breakfast, he called me Al instead of Alfred. It isn’t usual to abbreviate the name of someone you have just met.”

Dick gave a low whistle. “That’s something that I haven’t heard him say in years. Do you think that his memories are still there, just hidden?”

It had been something that Alfred had been considering frequently over the past week. “If you had asked me that a few weeks ago I would have said no however I’m beginning to think otherwise.”

“Does he still eat burgers wrong?” Alfred could still remember the first time Dick had seen Bruce take out a knife and fork to eat a hamburger. He had been absolutely flabbergasted and had just stammered without forming real words for a few moments, before telling Bruce that he was ‘insulting to the good people of Hamburg’, and ‘why on earth would he eat sandwiches normally but then butcher a hamburger with utensils’? Bruce blamed Alfred’s influence, but Alfred had taught him nothing of the sort.

“I’ve yet to test that, though now I think that may be a good addition to my experiment. A control variable.”

Nodding, Dick exhaled slowly. “Ok. I’ll see him. This new and improved Bruce Wayne. I need to see him with my own eyes and know that he’s alright.” Alfred started to stand up but Dick put his arm out to stop him. “Tomorrow.” He raised an eyebrow and Dick pointed at Alfred’s clothes. “No jacket or dress shirt? Slippers? And I saw some dishes just sitting on the counter in the manor kitchen when I was sneaking around the grounds earlier. You are clearly off the clock today. I can tell. I’m an international super spy, you know.” Dick winked and Alfred rolled his eyes in return.

“I believe this is a good example of something that would be considered an exception.”

“Nope. It’s not life or death. I know the rules. I shouldn’t even be here uninvited.”

“I would say that coming back from the dead definitely falls into reasons allowed for a visit.”

“To visit, yes, but to have you go back into full butler mode on your day off? Not a chance. It can wait.”

“Of all the rules you choose to follow…” Sometimes Dick, along with the others, completely exasperated Alfred. Being a vigilante wasn’t an issue, but the line was drawn at potentially disturbing Alfred on his day off to reunite with Bruce? Frustrating, but in a familiar way that warmed Alfred’s heart. “Do you wish to stay the night here?”

“If it’s alright with you. I should probably see Bruce before I see the others or ask Damian about being roomies again. If not, I can go to a hotel.”

“I insist you stay with me tonight then. I have more than enough room for a wayward Robin to roost in when required.” Alfred stands, picks up his cup and moves towards the kitchen. “Would you like something to eat? I’m feeling rather peckish myself.”

Dick shot up with his own empty cup and started to gather things off the coffee table to follow Alfred. “Let me give you a hand with that.” Wincing slightly, Dick looked a little sheepish. “Damn. Is it too soon for hand jokes?”

Alfred chuckled and waved his handless arm at Dick dismissively. “Not at all. They are quite common now. I actually should show you all the prosthetic designs with weapons attachments that Jason has been working on. He’s been calling them my ‘arm-ory’. I’d give him a round of applause on that pun, but that is a little less effective now than in the past.”

“Nice.” Dick chuckled. “Though I’m a little disappointed that he didn’t find a way to work ‘bat’ into that name.”

“He has one he’s calling the ‘bat-tering ram’. I must admit that it is one of my favourites so far.”

“And the naming legacy lives on. I’m so proud.”

Alfred looks Dick over again and thinks about how much he has changed, not just since his death, but since he was young and had first come to the manor. The boy has grown up to become a fine man, and it was exceptional to witness. He turned and pulled the young man into another gentle hug. “I’m so happy you are back, Dick. I’ve missed you.”

“Me too, Alfred. Me too.”

#dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #batfic #fanfiction #happy birthday dick grayson

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theliterateape · 4 years ago

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Requiem for a Bartender

By David Himmel

When I was growing up at summer camp in Decatur, Michigan, I would overhear tales of a mystical place called the M-40. The camp counselors—men and women of drinking age and those close enough—would gather at this M-40 after long days in the summer sun wrangling rambunctious children. In the mornings, huddled over Styrofoam cups of coffee from the mess hall, they’d reconnect the pieces from their nights. Some wore M-40 t-shirts purchased from the bar. Kids with a few bucks cash could find the right counselor to buy them a shirt. They would wear it with pride until the camp owners caught wind and banned the t-shirts. After all, you can’t have alcoholism advertised by thirteen-year-old kid billboards at a summer camp designed to churn out intelligent, diversified members of society.

I never had the scratch for a t-shirt, but I was determined to one day go drinking—whatever that was—at the M-40. And when I could do that, I’d get me a t-shirt.

It wasn’t the beer that I was so drawn to. It was the camaraderie the counselors seemed to share because of this place. The M-40, I’d come to learn, was the closest thing to reattachment to the real world beyond the bubble of a summer spent in ignorant bliss. Because of the way legend takes form, this little bar in this little southwestern Michigan farming town transcended drinking. It was a mecca of love and good times.

✶

I’m struggling to write this. It’s almost a year since we went in to pandemic lockdown. I’m struggling to write this in the same way I’ve struggled to write anything over the last year. In short, I’m tired of sitting. Tired of typing. Tired of completing almost every interaction through a computer screen. But right now, the struggle is comfortably different. Right now, I want nothing more than to be at a bar, slouched over the wood engaged in deep conversation and debate over the most importantly trivial of matters, drinking beer—lots of it—from room temperature mugs that began frosty while pumping five dollar bills into the jukebox stacking the playlist with ’90s grunge and alt-rock with the occasional disco, Motown, or Credence Clearwater Revival slipped in for spice.

Specifically, I want to be drinking at the M-40. The M-40 before the fire. Before it was gutted and cleaned up. The M-40 with the gently tilted pool table and the low lights and the bathroom doors that don’t latch. The M-40 where we could smoke and dance on the banquet chairs. The M40 where all our summer friends were together all at once and where Steve the bartender kept the good times rolling by taking our money and filling our pitchers, feeding us quality burgers and the most perfect mozzarella sticks to ever grace a taste bud.

That’s all I want to do now. That’s the only place I want to be. And I have Steve to thank for this kind, nostalgic struggle.

✶

Steve McIntyre, who died February 17 at 47 years old from complications of diabetes, wasn’t the first bartender I met. He wasn’t the first bartender I befriended. But Steve was the bartender that was most impactful. I learned to drink in Decatur. First, as a teenage camp counselor where three cans of Miller Lite would put me on my ass like I was leaving Las Vegas. I graduated to Jim Beam and Coke on picnic blankets late at night down at the Lake of the Woods Public Access boat ramp. And then, finally, when I was twenty-one and old enough to saddle up to three foot of wood in front of a mirror and a rack of snack size potato chips, I drank pitchers of beer at the M-40.

As camp counselors, we were a ragtag group of kids from mostly midwestern states. The rest of us were Australians, Brits, Israelis, Dutch, Germans… A global economy with collective goals—drink, laugh, dance, play pool, maybe screw, try not to puke.

The Decatur Townies didn’t like us. We were the “Jew counselors” from that “Jew Camp” down the road. It was far from an accurate description of us, but the feeling was palpable. We always tried to make friends with Townies—an affectionate and accurate term for the year-round regulars. Despite the stinkeye that came from those select townies, we camp folks thrived. And, while I’ve never seen the M-40 books, it’s impossible to assume that our time there did anything other than help feed the bottom line with delicious American USD.

Steve ran the joint. Tending bar was the family business. His father, Tom, ran it the generation before mine. Steve and I became fast friends. That’s the bartender’s job, after all—to befriend their loyal patrons. But I was also young, boiling over with energy, and thirsty to learn the ways of drinking legally in public. Steve gave me, gave so many of us that arena.

The drinks were cheap. The food was good. The company was always preferable to any other. There were the big nights out where twenty of us counselors would make the short drive from camp to the M-40 and join the twenty or thirty Townies for loud dancing and heavy drinking, but there were the quieter nights, too.

I shouldn’t, but I do remember the night I, along with Jorg Stender, my counterpart back down at the sail dock, saddled up at the bar. Jorg was in the mood for Beam and Cokes. Steve happily obliged. A few Townies were at the other end of the bar as Jorg and I drank and talked, drank and talked, drank and talked. Every other drink, as if he were a finely tuned Swiss watch, Steve would come by, join us for a few minutes of casual conversation. He slid perfectly into and out of the deep, drunken nonsense Jorg and I were churning out.

I worked at the camp only one summer while old enough to drink at the M-40 but I kept in touch with Steve over the winters and the years. He (and the bar) was on my Holiday Letter mailing list. On occasion, when drinking on my own, I’d pick up the phone and (drunk) dial the bar just to talk to Steve. It wasn’t out of loneliness, it was out of a desire to have a drunken conversation with my favorite bartender. He’d always say, “When you come back out here, Dave, we gotta go fishing.” I would have liked that. But distance and other silly excuses kept that fishing trip from happening.

A few times we made our way to The 40 to see Steve during the winter months, again, long after I had stopped working summers there. So, sometimes, it’d be years from when we last saw Steve. The surprised but welcoming look on his face when we’d walk through the door felt better than even that first cold beer.

In early 2001, a small group of us headed to The 40. I was home from college in Las Vegas. Dan Bates, Doug Bates, James Boulware, and Jeff Miner all made the few hours’ drive to meet at the M-40 for a single night of revelry. The bar was mostly empty. We had Steve all to ourselves. The six of us got good and loaded falsely accepting invitations to go fishing with Steve, but desperately wishing we had the availability that coming summer to cast a line and crack a beer in Steve’s fishing boat on that summer lake of ours in the woods.

We brought an even bigger gang of summertime friends in October of 2004 to celebrate Miner’s fortieth birthday. Miner was the elder of the group and about thirteen of us old camp pals traveled in from all over the country to celebrate Miner’s advanced age at the most appropriate place possible: the M-40. This celebration even gave me and one of the great loves of my life an opportunity to reconnect as part of the party planning committee. No romance was rekindled, but we hadn’t talked in more than four years proving that Steve’s M-40 was the Great Uniter. Would everyone have flown in to celebrate Miner if the party were at a Dave & Buster’s? I’d like to think so, but probably not.

✶

During the summer of 2000, there was a second bar counselors would frequent on nights out called BT’s located a town over in Sister Lakes. BT’s was easy on fake IDs, so the underage kids preferred it to The 40. One day, my seventeen-year-old brother asked if he could borrow my ID to get into the bar. Despite him being a few inches lankier than I am, we could easily pass for one another.

“Yeah, you can use it tonight,” I told him, “but do not take this to the M-40. Steve knows me. You won’t get it. It’ll be a bad move. BT’s only.”

The instructions were simple. My brother did not follow them. The next night, I went to The 40 not knowing what my brother had tried and the first thing Steve said to me was, “Dave.” He was disappointed. “What’s this bullshit with your brother using your ID to get in her last night?” I was embarrassed, apologetic, and furious.

The following morning, I caught up to my brother walking back from breakfast in the mess hall. “Eric!” I shouted to him as I ran to catch up. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“What?” he said incredulously.

“You took my ID to The 40. You did the one thing I asked you not to do.”

“So? I didn’t get in.”

“I know! But you pissed off Steve and made me look like an asshole. And you put the rest of the counselors in a bad light. Steve’s my friend and you tried to pull one over on him.”

Eric got more defensive. I got more angry. Then Doug and James had to pull me off of him and remind me that beating my younger brother to a pulp in front of campers was an even worse idea than trying to get one past Steve. But was it?

As the years went on, the M-40 lost its status as the bar for counselors to go to. The next generation didn’t have the affection for it, didn’t see its charm, didn’t appreciate how Steve and his bartenders wouldn’t let nineteen-year-olds drink. And after too many of-age counselors causing too much trouble, the M-40 unofficially closed its doors to those counselors from that “Jew camp.” And I get it. These kids ruined a good thing they never took the time to understand.

✶

The news of Steve’s death came to us via the M-40 Facebook page. Dan Bates texted a small group of us the link. I quickly shared it in a larger text then a Facebook message. Through our phones, these old camp friends had our own little memorial for Steve, the lovable bartender, the best Townie in Decatur, the man who wanted to take us fishing.

Today’s M-40 doesn’t look or feel like it does in our memories. It’s brighter now, fresher. A fire a few years back cleaned the place up a bit. I think it lost the charm in the smoke and flames, but Steve was always there. And like any bartender worth their salt-rimmed glasses, that was enough to keep me charmed.

#M-40 Bar #Decatur Michigan #Steve McIntyre #Lake of the Woods Camp #Greenwoods Camp #Bar Stories

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theurbanologist · 7 years ago

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From Haute Cuisine to Hot Dogs

My first restaurant experience in Chicago was when I walked into Morry’s Deli on 55th and Cornell in Hyde Park. I was hungry and they sold me a bagel of dubious quality along with a hefty slab of cream cheese which in form and substance resembled the celebrated U-boat that draws visitors from near and far to the Museum of Science and Industry a few blocks away.

I didn’t give up and I later found the joys of Hyde Park favorites such as the Medici, Siam Thai, and Ann Sather’s. My favorite restaurant in Chicago remains the Valois Cafeteria where you’ll “see your food” and pick up breakfast for under $6.

This is a rare feat in these increasingly pricey times, no?

It was with great anticipation that I picked up the Chicago Food Encyclopedia, which covers a vast range of culinary territory from O’Hare Airport down to the one and only Calumet Fisheries.

Ably edited by a who’s who of Chicago food writers (including Carol Mighton Haddix, Bruce Kraig, and Colleen Taylor Sen), the book is an expert antidote to an increasingly crowded world of banal blather regarding cuisine.

I reached out to Bruce Kraig (PS: He’s the author of Hot Dog: A Global History) for a set of meditations on crafting this work, hot dogs, and related matters.

He did not disappoint.

Why the Chicago Food Encyclopedia? Can you say a little about the project’s origins?

The story I like to tell is this: I have worked on encyclopedias before as the Senior Editor of the Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America and have written entries for a number of others. When Andrew F. Smith, with whom I worked, told me that he and friends were editing a New York food encyclopedia, called Savoring Gotham, I knew that we in the Second City had to do something: New York is a great food city but Chicago holds prime place as historically America's food collection, production and distribution center AND it is now America's leading restaurant city. The world should know it, and now with the Encyclopedia it will.

Immediately upon this inspiration smacking me I emailed Colleen Sen my friend and collaborator on our book Street Food: Everything You Need to Know About Open-Air Stands, Carts, and Food Trucks Across the Globe asking what she thought. Yes, she said, she had had exactly the same idea. Colleen is one of the world’s leading authorities on the history of Indian food and has written entries for lots of encyclopedias.

She said that we'd have to work fast to try to beat the New Yorkers (we missed but not by too much in university press publishing terms). Because I work with the University of Illinois Press and as a friend of the editor-in-chief, why not expedite matters and take it to them, we thought. We quickly wrote a proposal and brought it to the U of I Press. They quickly agreed – about 10 minutes and we were off and running.

Because we'd done this kind of book before, Colleen and I drew up a tentative headword list and began thinking about possible contributors. We knew lots of people, but one name came up more often than most, our old friend Carol Haddix. She had actually written a book about the Chicago dining scene from 1980 to the present and as the former and long-time multi-award winning editor of the Chicago Tribune food section she knew more about the current state of Chicago food than we did. And she knew lots of potential writers, many of whom had written article for her in the past. It did not take to long for Colleen and I to say to each other, let's ask Carol to join us as co-editor. She agreed and thus our happy editorship began.

In reality I'd been talking about a Chicago book with the U of I Press for years. Other collaborators didn't work out and I was too busy writing other books and lots more papers and articles to really get into the project.

As you likely know, Carol had me put together a Chicago food history timeline for the Tribune's sesquicentennial - it is the basis of the encyclopedia's timeline and chronological order, so I'd been working on the earlier era for some time. When this project occurred to us it seemed just right to finally get a volume with the right people to tell the full story that I could not do on my own, or at least as well as this. Second, Andy Smith and the New Yorkers are old friends and I did entries (on guess what?) for Savoring Gotham, but we still wanted to compete with them.

Your introduction is a masterful overview of Chicago’s diverse and complex relationship with food (prepared or otherwise). Were there any sections that didn’t make the cut for this section of the book?

Thank you. The only restriction we had was on length. The full history of Chicago’s food is deep and complex, more than one book-length treatment. The introduction is brief guide to a fuller history that lies within the entries themselves. Look at the ones on labor, fin de siècle diets, literature or cookbooks as examples. These, too, are brief but serve to fill out more of the story.

As I read the entries, I saw old friends that have left us, including the Cape Cod Room, Gordon, and the original Pump Room. Do you have a few favorite restaurants that are no more?

I put this to my colleagues. Here’s what they said:

Carol: I would like to go back in time and visit the original Glunz Tavern on Wells Street in the late 1800s, and then compare it to the family’s recent resurrection of the tavern.

Colleen: I would like to have visited Rector's restaurant at corner of Clark and Monroe to try the oysters and the rich fin de siecle food.The old Maxim's -- it was terrific. When I was in NYC in the late 60s Ashish [her husband, a professor at UIC] would go by himself and order a bowl of billibi soup and a dessert. He'd go very early just as they opened so he wasn't interfering with the regular clientele. The total cost was around $5.00

Bruce: I agree about classic old restaurants-Kinsley’s, the Boston Oyster House, and the early-day Henrici’s. But I’d also like to go to one of the Toffenneti’s because they remind me of places I visited in my youth in NYC, like Schrafft’s…and in fact Toffenetti’s in Times Square.

Colleen and I agree that we’d like to visit places discussed in John Drury’s 1931 classic Dining in Chicago. As Colleen says: “… one of the Japanese restaurants mentioned was: Mrs. Shintani's which specialized in sukiyaki. In 1939 Mrs. Football opened a Japanese restaurant on Oak street that served fish dinners "marinated in a special sauce." I'd like to have tried both.

We have to take on a very important topic in this interview: Hot Dogs. Your entry only uses the word ketchup once and that’s in reference to French fries.

I thank you for this.

American tomato ketchup is an abomination. Other earlier ketchups, on the other hand, like nut versions, well that’s another story.

How difficult was it to craft this entry?

If you are asking me about the hot dog entry, the only problem was cutting it down-we did impose word limits on ourselves.

Second part: When I came to Chicago you could buy a hot dog on State Street in the Loop. Now there are no carts selling hot dogs in the Loop. What can we do to remedy this problem?

As we emailed each other, once upon a time street food was common in and around the Loop. What needs to be done is political action to get the Aldermanic council and mayor to allow street food carts and stands. New York is an example (though flawed). Putting them on South State Street would increase foot traffic greatly and not interfere with the relatively few restaurants in the area.

What restaurants from Chicago’s past would you like to visit if time travel were a viable option?

See above.

As an expert, can you offer up a few restaurants you’d recommend to folks with a penchant for experiencing just a small sample of Chicago’s culinary scene?

Also from my colleagues:

Carol: To get a quick taste of Chicago’s current, more casual restaurants, head to the Food Revival Hall, 125 S. Clark, where you can sample from stands selling great barbecue, fried chicken, tacos, and even dessert (from well-known chef Mindy Segal of HotChocolate restaurant.)

Colleen: Re Drury, one of the Japanese restaurants mentioned ws: Mrs. Shintani's which specialized in sukiyaki. In 1939 Mrs. Futaba opened a Japanese restaurant on Oak Street that served fish dinners "marinated in a special sauce." I'd like to have tried both.

I would have recommended Katsu's but it is about to close. Tank Noodles at Argyle and Broadway serves great banh mi. Of Indian restaurants, hard to say since they change all the time. Gharib Nawaz on Devon and near UIC is very popular for its very inexpensive and pretty good Indian food.

Bruce: You know that I would say Chicago’s historic hot dog stands: Jim’s Original and the nearby Express, Jimmy’s on Grand (Depression dogs), and the best pure Chicago stand, Murphy’s on Belmont. That’s Chicago’s ongoing food history.

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lostinreveriefiction · 7 years ago

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The Vicious Few [Nathaniel Barnes x Reader] {2}

A/N: A/N: A while back a lovely person ( @cutebutpsycho83 ) sent me the idea of creating a several part Captain Barnes story based on the idea that he was an undercover cop who hung out at a bar and his partner was a younger girl who worked at the bar. He finds himself drawn to her and ultimately hates himself for it. I’ve switched things up a little in terms of him not really being familiar with Gotham, and he’s been sent there to help bring down a gang. Instead of hanging out at the bar, he’s become the new bar manager (but not really, as it’s his cover.) So, I hope you all enjoy it! Captain Barnes really needs some more love in the reader fic community. PART ONE IS HERE.

Sitting in the passenger seat of Nate’s car, you turned to look at him noticing just how serious he was. In your head you mulled over the idea that it must be painful for him to hold such a grim looking expression all the time. Smiling to yourself, you looked out the window, glad to see that it wasn’t raining anymore – at least you could return to work as dry as you left.

“Pull in here,” you announced and he looked like he was going to argue, but decided against it. With ease, he pulled into a space on the street and the both of you exited the car. “The pier is just up ahead, but this is close enough in a car. We want to look like we’ve just moseyed on down here, not that we meant to come here.”

Nate raised his eyebrows in surprise and nodded his head, agreeing with you for what felt like the first time ever. About to take off towards the pier, Nate stopped you and practically pulled you over to a nearby snack food stall.

“Hot dog, or Ice cream?” He asked, and you were more than confused as you stared at him.

“I’m not hungry,” you replied and he shook his head.

“Inconspicuous, right? If we go wandering down there with food in our hands, it will look more like we just ‘moseyed on down’ here while grabbing some food to go.”

He was right, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise before announcing that you’d have Ice cream – which he took too. After paying you both left the stand and made your way to the pier, keeping an eye out as you went.

“So when I mentioned a promotion before, you seemed a lot more interested. Is that why you’re here to take down the gang?” You asked, making light conversation as you went. Truthfully, Nate was intriguing to you and you were more than enjoying the dynamic you had going with him.

“I suppose so, yeah,” Nate replied, looking to you before returning to eating his ice cream.

“And here I thought you were one of the good guys, out to save us Gothamites from trouble,” you joked and he chuckled slightly before you both turned down onto where the piers were.

“I do. Ultimately I want to save everyone from trouble, but I can only do so much, you know?” He began, continuing on about how he valued the law more than most things. But as he was speaking you couldn’t help but notice that one of Vince’s guys was now following, at a distance.

As you approached Pier 6, Nate seemed to speed up slightly and you worried that Vince’s guy would know exactly why you were there. But then things seemed to get a whole lot worse.

“Stop, Nate,” you warned, just as he was about to start walking down the pier. Your hand was firmly on his shoulder.

“What? Why?” He asked, obviously more impatient than ever, but he stopped and looked into your eyes sensing the worry. “Are you ok?”

Looking to him, you swallowed hard and simply held his gaze for as long as you could. For a moment you sensed more than concern from him as the feeling changed from simply wanting him to stop what he was doing, to half wanting him to kiss you. It was strange, but in that moment it just seemed right. You felt safe with him, and it automatically softened you towards him.

“Vince is headed right for us and I just wanted him to think that we were-“

“Well, well, well, look who it is!” Vince announced, shooing his henchman away from him. “The new guy and my favourite barmaid.” He leaned in to kiss you on the cheek and you smiled at him, turning away from Nate slightly. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, no!” You replied, holding your ice cream up at him. “Just eating some ice cream and showing the ‘new guy’ around town.”

“Wait, are you on a date with this guy?” Vince asked, leaning into you as if to whisper it, but it was fully heard by Nate who rolled his eyes.

“Nate? No! He’s my boss. I don’t date co-workers.”

“You don’t date customers, either,” he joked with a wink and you chuckled attempting to break the tension.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced,” Nate said, smiling such a forced smile it almost looked awkward on him.

“Oh, Nate this is Vince Lanza – a regular at the bar and this is Nate the new bar manager,” you informed them and Nate offered his hand, which Vince ignored.

“What’s your last name, Nate?” Vince asked, shoving his thumbs into his pockets.

“Henderson,” Nate lied, for obvious reasons. “Just moved to Gotham. New town, new start.”

“’New start?’ That means you finished something, or someone, in your old town, right?” Vince asked, a smirk on his lips as he got intimidatingly close to Nate.

“Something like that,” Nate replied, not backing down for one second.

After what felt like forever of staring at the two of them and waiting for one of them to say something, you cleared your throat and stepped up to Vince.

“Ok, we’ve got to open up soon, so shall we?” You asked, desperate to get away from the situation and from a possible fight. “See you tonight, Vince?” You asked, touching his arm in an attempt to pull him away from Nate. Vince looked to you and smiled before taking your hand and kissing it gently.

“I’ll be there,” he replied before walking off down pier 6 and leaving you to allow the blood to come back to your face again.

“We should go,” you said, practically dragging Nate away as he took in what he could of the area. He didn’t want to leave without at least a little info, but you were done and just wanted to get out of there.

Later in the evening as you were cleaning down the tables and the rest of the staff and customers had went home, you found Nate sat at the bar in deep thought. With a sigh, you tossed your rag onto the table and headed around the opposite side of the bar, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of scotch, before pouring you both a glass.

“Drink with me,” you said, sliding the other glass over to him. He eyed it for a moment before he picked it up and tossed it back, swallowing hard and letting out a sigh. “Feel better?”

“No,” he grumbled, looking into the bottom of the glass. “He said he’d be here tonight.”

“And?” You asked, rolling your eyes at him before wandering over to the jukebox to put some background music on.

“Why didn’t he show?” He asked, facing you and watching as you walked across the bar to join him again

“I imagine it’s because he’s a busy guy. Places to be, people to kill,” you joked, but received a disapproving look from Nate. “Vince isn’t in here every night, you know.”

“But he said he would be,” Nate said, trailing off lost in thought again. You sighed and placed your hand on his.

“Look, Vince probably said it to mess with you. He says a lot of bull shit, trust me.”

“Hmm, trust you,” he chuckled, grabbing the bottle and pouring himself another. “I barely know you.”

“Well, what do you want to know?” You ask and he takes a sip of his drink, thinking for a moment.

“What do I need to know?” HE asked, and you sighed.

“Let’s see, I was born and raised in Gotham. I went to Gotham Elementary, then on to Gotham High. I didn’t go to college, so I worked odd jobs here and there until Hal gave me the job here. That’s it, that’s my life,” you informed him, feeling a little disappointed that you hadn’t amounted to more.

“How did you start becoming friends with Vince?” Nate asked, bringing the conversation back to the vicious gang again.

“I was quiet, to begin with. I think Vince noticed it and decided to take it upon himself to make me feel…wanted? IT worked in a way, but I was always aware of what he did, so I kept my distance.”

“You? Quiet? Those aren’t two words I’d put together,” Nate joked, swallowing the last of his drink.

“Well, I was to begin with, then I realised that if you don’t yell in this place, you get nowhere,” you said with a chuckle and Nate smiled.

“So how did you start working with the Gotham Police?” This time, Nate poured you both another glass, and you gladly accepted it.

“One night this guy comes in and sits at the bar, he practically watches me all night as I’m doing my job, you know? Real quiet, quite brooding – a lot like you,” you smirked, taking a sip of your scotch before continuing. “Eventually he started talking to me, asking me how I knew them and stuff. He eventually realised that I wanted nothing to do with them and said I should consider helping the police bring them down.”

“And you did,” Nate concluded for you.

“Yeah, and now Jim and I get on like a house on fire,” you added, sipping your scotch.

“Jim?”

“Jim Gordon. He’s a detective.”

“Right,” Nate stated, looking to his alcohol, before looking back to you. “So what do you get out of it?”

“Uhm,” you began, stopping to think for a second before you continued. “A small amount of money? But it’s not just about that. Gotham is my home, it always has been. And I’ve seen things that I don’t think most people should see. I’d hate to think that the vicious gang are the future of Gotham. And if I can help bring them down, then at least it’s a start.”

Nate looked at you, watching you intently as you spoke. A natural smile took over his mouth as he admired the way you spoke about your city. You reminded him of himself. Watching you smile slightly made his heart beat a little faster, but he quickly put the notion of possibly liking you out of his head. To you, you were his partner and that was all. And in his book, you did not fall for your partner. No, sir.

“You’re one hell of a gal, you know that?” He asked, the words escaping his mouth before he could catch them.

You beamed gently and finished your drink when you heard the door swing open, chastising yourself for not locking it in the first place.

“We’re closed!” Nate announced, and Vince stepped into the light, followed by several of his henchmen.

“Aw, but we were invited,” Vince cried, feigning disappointment. “Hey, (Y/N)!”

“Vince!” You exclaimed, pretending you were happy to see him. “What are you guys doing here? You know when we close.”

“I came to see you and my new buddy Nate,” he replied, accentuating the T in Nate’s name as he looked to him.

“How about you come back tomorrow, huh? I’ll buy you guys a couple rounds?” You offered, looking to Nate who was now fuming.

“We’ll take those rounds now,” Vince demanded, looking from you to Nate with an exaggerated smile.

“You need to leave, now,” Nate ordered, stepping down from the barstool.

“Oooohooohooh!” Nate teased, hopping around slightly before stopping dead and pulling you into a hug. “Alright, but (Y/N) is coming with. I need some quality time with my favourite barmaid.”

“Over my dead body,” Nate warned, his chest puffing out slightly.

“That can be arranged,” Vince replied, and you pulled away from him to attempt to break things up.

“It’s fine!” You offered, pulling away from Vince. “Let me get my coat.

Wandering over, you grabbed your stuff from behind the bar and tapped Nate’s shoulder reassuringly as you passed him. Vince held his hand out for you to take, and you did so, obligingly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, boss,” you said, a hint of concern in your eyes as you left the bar with Vince.

Honestly, you weren’t sure what he had heard of Nate and yours conversation, but you were hopeful that he just wanted you to serve them drinks at their hideout and have a little joke with them like you usually did. Either way, at least Nate knew you were gone, and that gave you a little hint of hope.

#nathaniel barnes #captain barnes #nate barnes #gotham #captain nathaniel barnes #reader fic #captain barnes x reader #reader request

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