#*or hed refused it or talked a way out of such a convenience* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nureyevapologist · 5 years

Note

Hiyaaa, if you want an aftg prom still, pls consider: Neil coming home to his and andrew's apartment with one of his newest recruits, and they boy is beaten and battered and neil's first instict was to take care of him because no one ever took care of neil, and andrew's reaction to this! ❤

thanks for this!! i might have veered from the specifics a little and this is like, 70% a character study of neil and 30% Andreil Content but i hope this is okay!!

Neil Josten felt that he owed a lot to the idea of coincidences.

Coincidence was Neil taking an uncalculated risk on the Millport Dingoes the very same year that Riko Moriyama finally snapped and took the bones in Kevin Day’s hand with him. Coincidence was falling into the same orbit as the man who had watched Neil’s father slice a man like lunchmeat and coincidence was him being so single-mindedly focused on Exy that he didn’t notice Neil’s terrible dye job or the white ring around his contact lenses. Coincidence was Andrew Minyard being the single-most observant person Neil has ever met, and coincidence was Neil being forced into his field of vision.

Coincidence was also Neil here and now, stopping off at a convenience store to grab a packet of cigarettes and accidentally witnessing his potential new recruit fall victim to a heavy, parental hand.

It had only taken one video on a grainy, digital camera to show Neil that this kid had the raw potential to be one of the greatest backliners Palmetto State would ever see. Not fifteen minutes into the footage had Neil shoved aside his other folders and said to Wymack, one thumb jutted at the screen, we have to have him. Wymack had shrugged, assented with a nonchalant you’re the captain, captain and the very next week saw the two of them riding out to Georgia in Neil’s shiny new Lexus.

(“Having a Pro Athlete for a boyfriend sure does have its perks, huh kiddo?” had almost gotten Wymack elbowed bodily out of a moving vehicle.

“Above your paygrade” in a smooth, Andrew-esque tone had Coach laughing for the next ten minutes of the drive, safe and unmoving in the passenger seat.)

So they had approached the boy, Josh, after hanging back in the shadows to watch his high school team completely demolish their opponents. Wymack had loitered, no doubt trying to catch the name of the opposition’s only saving grace, a furious offensive dealer, and Neil had attempted to look cool and friendly as opposed to cold and menacing.

Naturally, the kid told Neil to fuck off four times before Neil backed him into a corner and told him to stop squandering his future by being unnecessarily abrasive. There was something in the complicated ice of this boy’s eyes that Neil connected with, an innate fear that ducked for cover behind aggression and hunched shoulders. One minute he stood every inch his five feet and ten inches and the next, body folded in on itself like he was willing it to disappear, he looked to stand no taller than Neil himself.

“I don’t know what your deal is,” Neil had said, arms tucked across his chest with all of his patchwork scars on show, “but I come from Palmetto State. I’m not here to judge, or pry, or fix. I don’t give a shit about your tragic backstory, I give a shit about the way you single-handedly held up your team’s defense line and I give a shit about putting you on an NCAA Class I Exy team. If you can get over yourself for five minutes, I suggest you sign first and cry later”

Every fibre in this kid’s body twitched like he wanted to run and Neil was hit, not for the first time, with jarring memory of himself in this position, shadows of a dark locker room curling in around his ankles, Wymack promising a future he’d never stayed still long enough to know he wanted. Sentiment was lost on Neil, most of the time. Still, if his family of Foxes had taught him anything, it was that sometimes you had to save people despite them not wanting to be saved. At this point, that may as well be the Palmetto State Motto. Neil had given the kid a few hours to think on it. Go home, talk to whoever you need to talk to, think about it. Just remember that we did not drive out here for a no.

Wymack had, of course, grumbled about having to spend a few hours sweating my damn ass off in the pleasure of your company but had mellowed somewhat when Neil had taken him for a suitably greasy dinner and showed him how to use his new phone to FaceTime Dan. He had allowed himself a few moments to enjoy the scene; Wymack, his face far too close to the screen, cursing Dan out for not texting him all week because saying I miss you is too overrated. Dan, a pixelated blur of joy and exuberance, showing her father every single corner of her new apartment and zooming in on one Matt Boyd, tangled helplessly in the middle of an Ikea side table.

With Wymack occupied, Neil had called Andrew, who answered on the very last ring because he was a certified asshole at the best of times. “Am I to assume you will be elsewhere when I get to the dorms?”

Andrew always makes him feel so known. “I managed to pick another stubborn one”

“Yes,” Andrew says, his voice a slow rumble over the familiar, quiet growl of the Maserati, “because you were so quick to acquiesce”

“I might have been running to grab a pen,” Neil replies. Andrew doesn’t laugh, but there’s a puff of air that Neil recognises as amusement, and his own mouth curls. “I think I sold him, though. A few hours and I might finally have secured a backliner”

“You should hope so,” and then there’s a beat of silence and the tell-tale flick of a lighter, “because I refuse to listen to you whine about it all weekend”

“So you admit that you do listen, when I talk?”

“Absolutely not” and when the silence stretches for a beat too long, Neil lifts the phone from his ear and realises Andrew has disconnected the call. Typical Andrew, but now Neil’s fingers twitch to hold a cigarette and he distinctly remembers leaving them behind at the behest of Wymack’s disapproving frown. Beneath his thighs the sticky vinyl booth creaks in protest when he shifts his weight and he waves a round-about hand at Wymack before ducking out of the diner, knowing that Wymack will see him cross the road toward the convenience store and put two and two together.

It says a lot for how far he has allowed himself to sink into safety and familiarity and family that he doesn’t immediately notice the shouting. He’s caught up in realising his ID is somewhere in the glove compartment of his car and wondering if his sharp scars and sharper expression will dissuade the cashier from asking questions. Behind the front counter is a door, all peeling red paint and a half-hearted Staff Only sign, and the slight space between the door and the frame is the source of the noise. Neil has no interest in interfering. Neil has no interest in even listening to some inane disagreement between cashier and colleague, and is considering returning to the diner empty handed when he hears a sharp crack, followed by a sharper, you are never leaving me, Joshua, not ever and the unmistakeable sound of hands pummelling flesh. Something in Neil twitches to intervene but he isn’t stupid enough to walk into a small room with flying fists so, in a bid of panic, he thumps the bell by the cash drawer once, twice, three times.

A man appears from the back, face flushed the red of barely-swallowed anger, eyes a little wild and searching. Neil smiles something icy and the man is stupid enough to misread it. “Sorry ‘bout that, had’ta catch up on some paperwork in the back. What can I do ya for?”

There’s a moment where everything slows down and Neil files away details like his life depends on it. Blood, smeared across the knuckles of one large, meaty hand. A row of scratches, three raised and red, sit tucked against his chunky neck in an indication that someone had raised a hand to defend themselves. A gold ring, thick and faded, shaped to spell out DAD. Neil doesn’t know what makes him say it, but he opens his mouth to ask for a packet of Camel Blue and what comes out is “someone round the back is casing the place, you might want to check that out”

A self-righteous rage takes over the man’s expression, clouding his eyes and the twist of his mouth and he claps Neil on the shoulder as he passes on his way to the door. Men like him, Neil thinks, are far too predictable for their own good. Something like a memory tugs at his subconscious; Neil at age sixteen, dropping a similar line, waiting for the all clear to stuff his pockets full of food and hightail it out of there before anyone noticed. That, Neil thinks, was a far more sensible plan than whatever this was. He rounds the corner of the cashier desk, nudges the back door open with the flat of his hand and comes face to face with the cowering, crumpled body of his newest recruit.

The kid, Josh, is folded in on himself in the far corner of this office, schoolbag tossed a few paces away, face hidden in his hands. At Neil’s entrance he starts so hard Neil almost feels it like a physical thing and then his face does something complicated when he realises it isn’t his father; relief warring with shame warring with anger warring with hope. One of his eyes is beginning to blacken and there’s blood pouring from a cut in his eyebrow – the ring, the fucking ring – and from one side of a crooked nose. His wrist doesn’t look particularly healthy and the way he holds himself tells Neil that this is not a one off occurrence.

“What do you want?” asks Josh, and Neil has no fucking idea. There are scars on his skin from the hands of his father and the hands of his mother and there were long years of his life where he was so accustomed to being beaten within an inch of his life that he never stopped to think that maybe, he didn’t deserve it and maybe, it wasn’t normal and maybe, someone should have helped him. How many teachers saw his black eyes, his split lips, his bruised arms, and how many of them said nothing. How many strangers saw his mother grip his wrist so tightly that it popped, pulling him into a car or a hotel or an alley, how many men saw his father pummel him like a punch bag?

Without thinking about it too much, Neil holds out a hand. “I want to help you. I want you to come with me”

Josh scoffs, gesturing loosely to his face. “This is nothing compared to what he’ll do if he comes in here and I’m gone”

Neil frowns. “Look at me,” and he points to his own scarred face with equally scarred hands, “look at my face and tell me you don’t think I’ve survived worse than your piece of shit father. Come with me, now, and don’t ever come back. Let us help you”

And there it is again, the flurry of anger-fear-shame-hope. “Why?”

“You’re a damn good backliner,” Neil tells him simply, “and if you let that pathetic excuse of a man beat you any harder you won’t be, anymore”

Hesitation twists his features into something ugly. Neil knows that he has minutes, maybe seconds until the man outside realises he’s been set up. If Neil has to pick saving himself over saving this kid, he’ll probably save himself, but Josh drags himself to his feet and looks Neil squarely in the face. “If I do this…he will come looking for me”

“And he will find an entire team of angry, troubled Exy players who know their way around a racquet” Neil replies. “I can protect you, but we have to leave. Right now”

His jaw goes tight but he nods, once. Neil nods back and together they make their way toward the front of the store, Neil pushing ahead, body strung-tight with focus. Outside he nudges Josh ahead of him, watches him adjust his gait around a lopsided limp, reels in his anger for another day.

They reach the Lexus across the street and a voice from behind calls “Joshua, get back here this goddamn instant.”

Three things happen.

Josh, in a bout of incredible bravery, flips his father the middle finger and falls over himself to clamber into the back seat of Neil’s car. The father, in a bout of incredible anger, starts for Neil like he means to snap his head from his body. Wymack, in a bout of incredible exhaustion at the familiarity of a situation such as this, appears at Neil’s right shoulder and swings a right hook up and under the man’s jaw.

It sends the man on his ass and in a split-second shared glance, Neil and Wymack make the mutual decision to get the fuck out of there.

Over the course of their drive back to Palmetto, Neil explains the situation with their new backliner, Wymack assures Josh that he will be resolutely protected, and Josh leaks blood all in the fancy seats of Neil’s car. When it doesn’t seem like it will stop, Neil shucks off his hoodie and throws it at the kid, telling him to hold it fast to the wound – after a brief, whispered argument, Neil pulls over and hands Wymack the keys and throws himself into the backseat to try and assess the damage. The ring hadn’t cut his eyebrow so much as it had gouged out a chunk of skin and his nose and lip are bust but mostly dried up. There’s a patch of blood at his side, seeping through his white t-shirt, and he waves that away as split stitches. From what, Neil doesn’t ask. He tries to staunch the bleeding but succeeds only in covering his own fingers in the blood, and in the end Wymack has to drive them straight to Abby’s house.

“Abby is our team nurse,” Neil explains, while Wymack tries to parallel park a Lexus under a blanket of colourful curses, “she patches up sprained ankles but she also patched up every wound visible on my skin, so you can trust her. I can stay, if you want, or I can leave you in her capable hands while I go back to campus and make preparations for you. There’s a spare bed in one of the freshman dorm rooms, or you can stay with Abby, or you can sleep on my sofa. Whatever you need”

Josh tucks his arms around himself, bravado stripped for the day. Neil assumes it will come back, that things will be difficult, that the kid’s attitude will fling itself all over the place, but for now he’s looking at Neil like Neil just saved his life and Neil thinks he just might have.

“You can go,” Josh says, “I have more shit under here I don’t wanna flash to anyone but a nurse, right now. Uh, I don’t…maybe I can stay on your sofa? For a bit. I don’t…”

“Hey,” Neil interrupts, “you don’t have to explain. Sofa it is. Though, I should tell you, my…my boyfriend is visiting right now, and he isn’t the friendliest person you’ll ever meet-”

“Understatement,” Wymack interrupts, “fucking understatement”

“-but,” and Neil flips off Wymack, “as long as you don’t give him any reason to distrust you, you’ll be safe”

He watches the kid for a minute, waiting for something. Protest, anger, homophobia, acceptance. Instead he shrugs, tired, overwhelmed, and climbs out of the car. Wymack follows him out, with a parting jab about Neil’s use of the term boyfriend, and then Neil is left to drive back to campus alone.

Maybe it should be embarrassing that the sight of the Maserati fills Neil with a fuzzy sort of warmth but this past half-a-year has begrudgingly taught him that distance makes the heart grow fonder, or whatever, and that he should allow himself to recognise that he misses Andrew and likes it when he comes home.

Or maybe Bee had taught him that, but he wasn’t about to admit it to Andrew.

The man in question is leaning up against the hood of his car, sleek and sharp in his black jeans and leather jacket, one booted-foot propped against the license plate, a cigarette between his lips. He’s gotten broader, since Neil last saw him, bulkier in the arms and shoulders and if Andrew is feeling up to it, Neil wants to relearn the shape of him with his fingers, maybe even his mouth.

Andrew doesn’t look up when the Lexus pulls in, feigning a nonchalance the set of his jaw doesn’t quite convey, but he does look up when Neil steps out of the car and his face transitions from smooth to thunder so fast it gives Neil whiplash.

“What happened?”

Neil blinks and Andrew’s hands are on him, fingers tilting his jaw this way and that, skimming down the sides of his body, eyes roaming for injury. Neil belatedly realises that he has Josh’s blood on his hands, a little on his shirt and he curves his own fingers around Andrew’s wrists, meets his eye with a calm stare. “It isn’t mine”

“That,” Andrew says, shoulders settling away from tension, “is not as reassuring as you seem to think it is”

Neil rolls his eyes. “Had some trouble with the new recruit. He’ll be staying with us”

Andrew arches a pale eyebrow, studying the blood on Neil’s fingers with a calculated disinterest. Neil huffs. “His father was beating the shit out of him”

“Where is he now?”

“Abby’s”

Andrew studies him for a long moment. Then, “I thought taking in strays was my thing”

“Well,” and Neil smooths his thumbs down over the fine bones of Andrew’s wrists, “someone had to pick up the slack. I couldn’t leave him there. So many people must have seen my mother backhand me and no one ever stepped in. How could I-”

“Stop it,” Andrew says, and Neil stops. “You cannot take responsibility for every single person in the world. It will never make your mother un-hit you”

Neil flinches, but he knows Andrew is right. Still, “I can help him. I can help this one. I want to”

“Alright”

“Yeah?”

Andrew gives him a look. “What, were you asking my permission? Are we adopting this child together?”

Neil laughs, a new thing, tipping his head back, teeth slipping past his lips. “You don’t think we’d make good parents?”

Andrew steps close enough that one of his boots rests between Neil’s two sneakers, their hands still clasped between them becoming squashed between their chests. “I would be a textbook parent. You would be a nightmare”

“I resent that,” Neil tells him “We’re never having kids”

“Obviously”

“Cats, maybe”

Andrew blinks. “Cats? You’ve thought about cats?”

Neil shrugs, once, but can’t fight the smile spilling back onto his face. “We’re getting cats. You said yourself that you like taking in strays”

“No,” Andrew says, firm. “I do not like it. The last one I took in continues to test my patience, so I will not have another”

“I’ve been testing your patience for four years and you’ve yet to get rid of me” Neil reminds him, “I think you’re getting soft”

“I think I am getting back in my car and leaving you here” Andrew replies, allowing it when Neil’s hands wiggle up between their bodies to frame his face.

“I think you’re going to help me make use of my empty dorm room before a freshman backliner moves in onto my sofa”

Andrew doesn’t respond to this either way but he allows it when Neil stretches to press a small kiss to the corner of his mouth and he allows it when Neil takes him by the fingers and leads him into Fox Tower, and he certainly allows it when Neil peels him out of his leather jacket before the door is even closed behind them.

(Later, when Josh announces his presence with a tentative knock at the door, Andrew answers it. Neil watches them size one another up and then Andrew reaches up into his armband for a knife. “Use this on anyone other than your father,” he says, “and I will use it to remove your hands”

If the expression on his face is anything to go by, Josh has no idea what he’s agreeing to in taking that knife, but he does it anyway. Neil has to hide his smile in the collar of his newly-acquired leather jacket.)

#answered #prompt fills #andreil #fic

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ursoself-satisfying · 5 years

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do you think eugene is maybe scared of long boat trips? i was thinking about it the other day, maybe he plans on going on holiday with his s/o and the only way to go abroad would be on a boat right? but maybe he would get a little (a lot? im not an expert on this) ptsd while being on the boat and his s/o supporting him but not fully understanding because lets be honest, no-one apart from the soldiers fully understand this sort of stuff, and maybe there's another veteran on-board who helps him?

Before we get into it I wanna say I totally agree n that unless u actually have experienced that ur rly not gonna understand what the person is going thru n this applies to all kinds of trauma but just bc u dont understand doesnt mean u cant do ur best to or that u cant still love support n help them handle it n it doesnt mean they're not gr8tful for ur involvement even if u dont understand,, writing for post war eugene is always tricky cus I dont wanna assume ik how any of this goes or the extent of what it entails i havent done this I've barely done any research its heartbreaking tho n unfair n I just wanted to say all that before u get into this cus it's a combo of both asks but also more of a touchy subject than I feel like I've addressed here so that's just a heads up but enjoy!!

Omg eugene my bby

I def think hes still afraid of boats big time,, so when the two of u decide to go abroad for ur honeymoon it's a big decision for u two to make one w lots of beforehand discussions n considering all ur other options but in the end the push of ur families n the pull of the convenience of a boat eases u both into the decision, even tho nothing about it u kno is going to be easy,, Eugene is p nervous cus I mean the nightmares have lessened n u both have been learning how to handle his flashbacks n the like but u had never tried anything like this yet so on one hand it could be a good time to test the waters but on the other hand neither of u have any idea how itll actually go

Even just in the car on the way there he starts to get shakey n then on the dock it gets a bit worse but ur hands r on him somehow the whole time either locked in his or on his leg or arm or stuck in his pocket n that comforts him, ur touch anchors him n keeps him from drifting to worse thoughts it keeps him thinking about u instead,, its till hard tho just thinking about it being back on that boat forcing himself to remember hes going to France n it's not occupied n hes not alone n hes going to get to see the sights w his wonderful wife n thoroughly enjoy those bright French mornings n that it's going to be quiet, no more bombs or raids or alarms just u n him under thin sheets hot n sticky n just together n safe

But first,, the boat

On the boat? It was rough,, every bit of turbulence n every odd sway made him anxious n as much as u tried to entice him to enjoy more of the boats activities like a cabaret show or even just playing some chess out on the deck n tho u could get him out a few times n he did enjoy himself,, he spent most of his time in the cabin trying to ignore the fact he was on a boat at all,, the rest of his time not being coaxed out by u he spent napping in a deck chair w u often lounging beside him n watching over his sleep carefully, also making sure he didnt burn n lathering her exposed skin in sunblock as much as u could as he slept

U two kept busy in the cabin tho I mean it was ur honeymoon after all ;;;))) so he ravaged u as often as he could bc not only were u a comfort but also a distraction,, u did other things as well tho like laying n listening to ur favourite radio shows or playing guitar to him or sketching him or dancing together or once even doing a silly little fashion show where he def tripped after putting on ur heels

He did have a few attacks tho but u had prepared as best u could n even if some of ur cabin took a beating in an outburst u had always managed to talk him down n he spent a lot of time in ur arms

His breakdowns btw would come suddenly when something would trigger him like a sudden movement or a splash against ur window n then he would get angry n scared n become protective of u until his aggression bubbled over into hot tears drowned out by ur soft words of confirmation trying to tell him u were on a modest cruise liner n u were going to Europe n that the guns n the bombs n the tropical climate were all far away n u would pull him into a cold shower w u n he would often (fuck u hard first then) just cling to u n cry until he could calm down n fall asleep n if he stirred in his sleep u would repeat the process until he could sleep soundly

He was gr8tful to finally be off the boat n back on land tho n once in Paris the two of u could rly enjoy ur honeymoon beginning w breaking in ur hotel bed ;;;)))

But then the two of u got to see the Eiffel Tower n the Seine n the Louvre n Notre dame n it was all so amazing!!!! U spent half the time w ur head in ur sketchbook n he spent all his time taking photos of u w ur head in ur sketchbook lol

The photos were brilliant n sweet n excessive n there were def a few of u bare n freshly fucked (pardon my french) w the Parisian skyline out the window behind u, the morning like shining thru ur messy hair like a halo,, but there were also many of him from the perspective of u kneeling over him n many more of both of u playfully holding up the tower or picnicking in front of a cathedral w u plucking at ur guitar or him w a bottle of wine at his lips

It was all v picturesque n romantic n perfect n u thought he deserved nothing less n he thought the same for u ::""))

U spent about 4 weeks there together n he had throughly used his time to fuck u in every way possible n use every toy u brought with but then it was suddenly time to go home n u were concerned about eugene being back on the boat but he seemed less nervous when u got on n he admitted to feeling a lot better after the first trip n this time he actually went out w u n u played board games w other passengers n danced in the halls n sang w the cabaret n he still sunbathed n napped n made love to u n wrecked ur cabin n u still listened to all ur radio shows n drew n sang but ur lives felt more full somehow after this experience

Oh n u def showed off everything u had bought is Paris n as much as he loved that silk dress on u he loved peeling it off u even more ;;;)))

He rly did feel better when u were finally home to ur little cottage for the first time together as a globetrotting married couple ::"")) he felt better that he hadnt handled it nearly as bad as hed expected n urs n his trip abroad left u feeling loved n cultured n more experienced in life plus u both had taken a huge chance n now u were better for it n felt more capable n confident that he was getting better n it was an affirmation that u would take care of him n that u would always be there for him, just as u had said in ur vows ::""))

He was happy to consummate ur new marriage in ur own bed for the first time tho lol n on top of that gr8 feeling it was just gr8 that he felt less held back w u there w him especially after the boat experience

So yeah a quick note I rly do think he would be terrified of ever stepping foot on a boat again n would refuse it n be vvv adamant about not doing it again for a vvv long time but I think he could be worn down n would EVENTUALLY be ok w it but maybe not this fast n tho I dont feel like I go into much detail here he def has a hard time on the boat as well like hes just agitated the whole time n probably was prescribed some medication for it if just some motion or sea sickness meds n maybe anxiety but i would say it prolly makes him drowsy so hes kinda out of it which keeps him calm but doesnt stop certain flashbacks n maybe he lashes out n hurts someone once in a while cus it's incredibly traumatic returning to that environment but anyway yeah he would be v fidgety n not like it but in this scenario hes willing to take a chance given how well hes been recovering n how much he trusts u n how much u have helped him n the option had pull so that's why but rly I dont think irl he would have gone back on a boat anywhere near that soon but this is romantic fiction so ::))

Also I have a v specific image of who eugene is w if u cant tell lol so I'm sorry for that specificity but I'm so whipped for him n his gal I lov sm I hope u enjoy n guys I'm so motivated to finally write out the storyline I have for him I'm gonna finally get out his fic ok I promise

#she has a voice!!!#joe mazzello #not queen #nut #the pacific #eugene sledge x reader #eugene sledge #anon asks #answered asks #send asks #send me asks #asks #anons #anon me too wow #anon #send me anons #anonymous

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sinsfox · 6 years

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Care to tell us about Ban's depression and all?

yoko you just had to ask this since i mentioned it to you huh

OF COURSE I CAN TALK ABT IT

this is gonna get long, so ima put it under the cut but theres going to be content warning galore, but itll be tagged

im really not going to beat around the bush here.

i headcanon ban to have depression, but at this point, it seems to me to be implied that he does. would it be professionally diagnosed? fuck no. ban gives less than a shit about himself, i dont think he would be obligated to figure out why he feels hollow or dulled. why life is a bore, and he only ever feels alive in a fight or when hes ‘killed’.

to him its a feeling he can easily shrug off and ignore and he easily puts up a front of being the easy going, out there kind of guy that he is. eccentric and melodious in his tone, fight enthusiastic and seemingly taking his interest in whatever seems convenient at the time. stealing what he wants, even if its the clothes off someones back. drinking ale and laughing it up like no tomorrow until he passes out.

but at the end of the day, hes lonely. hes tired. despite the things that are fun that he does have fun with, its still hard to completely forget the void that he feels and how much duller things seem nowadays ever since the incident in the fairy kings forest.

it only got worse since that day.

his childhood was the start of it all.

his parents neglected him and his sister. his little sister died from starvation at four years old. that was the first time ban felt alone. his parents cared nothing for them. ban was used to try and obtain food for his mother and father, while not being allowed to eat himself. his father would beat him if he did eat. his father would beat him if ban even slept. it wasnt a good environment. ban ran away from home often.

then ban was caught stealing and was sent to prison and that was where he met zhivago and they escaped together. and ban took to secretly meeting zhivago whenever he could and was given food by him to eat. zhivago helped him survive. zhivago taught ban all he needed to know about thieving and even saved his life from starvation and from being kidnapped and almost being sold to a noblewoman who tortured and killed children.

zhivago adopted ban. he referred to ban as his son in a conversation with ban himself. telling him how he had one son named therion who was nothing like ban, a shy kid. and how he had another son named ban who was a troublemaker with a bad mouth.

hearing that made ban happy. and he felt like he had family again.

then one day when they were to do a heist together, ban got impatient and went on his own. and got caught by the guards and was beaten by them. and zhivago was handed two choices: save ban or save therion. ultimately zhivago made his choice and abandoned ban ( he was crying when he made his choice ) for the sake of saving his own son, which he was too late in doing.

that was the second time ban felt alone in the world.

years pass, ban is a bandit now. he goes after the fountain of youth after hearing talk of it in a bar. he enters the fairy kings forest. he persists in getting to the fountain. thats when he meets elaine. and in seven days he grew close to her and helped her battle her seven hundred years of loneliness. and he fell in love with her and was going to bring her brother back to the forest, and make him take her place so ban could take her away.

but then a demon attacked. and elaine, who ban wanted to save with the fountain of youth, fed the water to ban which made him immortal. and he kills the demon, but elaine dies before he can even begin to help her.

that is the third time ban felt alone in the world.

and he was heart broken.

its at this point in time that ban believe he cannot be close to anyone, for they are going to leave him. by dying or by abandoning him. he refuses to fight when he is arrested and accused of a false crime but what can he do. he has no proof against their claim, and they cannot do anything to an immortal being. so he takes the brunt of it all and allows himself to be executed over and over again in his time captured.

its at this point that ban wishes he could die. because he doesnt want to live. not when he had nothing to consider a family from his little sister dying so young, his parents neglecting and abusing him. zhivago was his ideal father, he never held a grudge against the man for abandoning him but it still left a hefty hole for ban to carry. and elaine was killed before him and she used the last of her strength to save him instead of herself.

he was powerless to stop any of this from happening. despite that he was only a child, that he was just a human.

meeting meliodas was another of the happier moments in his life. when the man busted him out of prison, literally punching him through the wall, ban knew immediately that meliodas was someone he did not want to lose. there was an interest gained in this man. ban didnt want meliodas to disappear on him. he didnt want him to leave like the rest.

of course history happens, ban gets imprisoned by the weird fangs when he hears that meliodas had passed ( a lie ). and he endures torture yet again to ease the emptiness that wracks his being. bans stated before that dying is just another part of life for him. a daily occurrence. hes mentioned before that hes felt like dying. that its been a long time since he felt like dying.

it doesnt change the fact that hes felt that way.

there are points in time where ban berates himself. degrades himself. hes called himself a bad person. hes referred to himself as a useless piece of shit. that hes powerless. that hes an awful friend. all in regards to being unable to protect those he loves and cares about.

ban cares little about his own well being. its why he fights as reckless as he does, aside from his immortality. ban does not care about himself. theres nothing he likes about him. theres… nothing. he feels nothing for himself. he doesnt even consider himself human anymore unless hes referred to as one.

one wouldnt even think ban feels or thinks this way considering the way he is, as i said before. its easy to think ban is someone who doesnt feel that way but really its been eating at him for over the entirety of his life. ever since his childhood. ever since elaine died.

and he has terrible ways of coping with it all.

ban drinks himself silly. he lets himself get brutally murdered just come back to life and have it done again when he fights. he seeks out getting arrested to endure torture to feel something than nothing. because hes so tired of feeling nothing.

but in the end, no one except meliodas and elaine ( and king ) are capable of telling really telling bans actual emotions and the way he feels. because around them he drops the face of the fox sin everyone knows. because hes tired. hes empty. he can fake a smile and really well at that. he can put on the face of excitement, the outgoing personality and passion he can exude when needed. but at the end of the day, those feelings and thoughts are still there.

ban has, since gaining immortality, fantasized about death. idealized it. wished he could die. because being immortal is boring. living and dying near constantly runs dry after a time and to think that dying is a daily part of life now is cruel to him when he wakes up like nothing happened.

it was worse when the rumor meliodas had died got around, after hed finally learned to be happy again after the loss of elaine.

when he learned meliodas was indeed alive, and was busted out of baste dungeon to reunite with meliodas, he was happy again.

when the ten commandments and demon clan were released from their seal, and melascula using her magic with the venegeful soul revival, elaine was resurrected and ban was able to reunite with her too, after quelling her anger and hate towards those who had spent their time around ban when she could note and melascula still being kept alive kept elaine alive.

ban was made all the more happier then, too.

but elaine can read bans heart like fairies can. meliodas can read ban like a book because theyre best friends and meliodas understands ban just as ban understands him. and hes able to be open with them, more so than anyone else.

they are the only two he can really be truthful with in regards to his emotions because they are the only two that he trusts enough to let his guard down around and let them see the side that he hides from everyone else.

because he doesnt need more people worrying or whatever in his mind. he doesnt need peoples concerns when hes fine by technicality because hes immortal and nothing will ever come of anything even if he tried to do something. his sense of self-worth is abyssal, he cares so little about himself. hed rather everyone around him be okay and happy than have people worrying over him because its something hes felt for a long time, a very long time. something hes dealt with all on his own ( until elaine and meliodas came into his life ) and hed rather not include anymore people in it.

ban has gotten the short and shit end of the stick too many times to count. hes lost people. hes been unable to save people. he feels powerless in situations he cant do anything to change or fix. he berates himself over these things.

and he tries to keep others out of it because its not something they should deal with, its his own problem. but its hard to deal with it when he doesnt want to. he wants it to go away, he wants to stop feeling and thinking it. but its hard when its constant and he cant do anything about it. aside from drown himself in ale and liquor. and fight so recklessly and with abandon because hell be fine, hell come out unscathed and it gives him something to better focus his energy on than the hollow dull ache in his chest.

thats about the long and short of it

#cxrsedsilence #*letters. ⟨ ask. ⟩#*record information. ⟨ headcanon. ⟩#theres rlly content warning all over the place for this #jesus christ but anyways #suicide mention cw.#abuse mention cw.#death mention cw.#alcohol mention cw.#UH LEMME KNOW IF I NEED OTHER TAGS FOR THIS I THINK THOSE ARE THE BIG ONES HERE THOUGH

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cosmicchronicles · 3 years

Text

I need to make a call.

Once back to Remiel's house, Kephales steps aside while the rest clean up or head to the kitchen for dinner.

He dials into his pad and puts a small pod to his near invisible earhole.

The phone rings at the precinct in a suburb on Akiton, Keph's old workplace. It rings longer than usual, things are in disarray, but he expected that.

Finally a voice picks up.

"Olanti?"

"Stolle, yeah, is the chief there?"

"Well sure, but... man we're kinda swamped down here. No chance you can spare a moment, huh? Nah, I expect you've got big bad Steward stuff to do." A sense of relief and familiarity seemed to wash over the officers tone.

"Stolle, theres nothing I'd rather do than be there to help Akiton, you know that," the detective lied, "But... I'm actually calling to ask for *your* help."

"Mine??"

"No, the precinct. Can I talk to the chief?"

Stolle, a medium sized ysoki with a beat in the southern part of their suburb where the border abutted the the norther part of the city proper, was a good cop, honest, one of the few, but not the brightest bulb. It worked in his favor most of the time, because he wasnt the type to scheme for bigger busts or sneak away with confiscated goods or play the politicking game with local lawmakers. He was just a Good Guy.

"Sure, Olanti, just gimme a sec."

Keph could hear the noise on the other end. They had to be stretched thin filling in for branches that got hit. But it didnt take long. Soon enough, the tired raspy voice of the chief who clearly hadnt slept in a week greeted him. Ruk had not slept in a week, and if she was being honest, she didn't intend to sleep for another two at least. Undead armies prowled the cities of Akiton, an invading force that seemed both willing and able to pour as many bodies at a problem as necessary to solve it with no mind to how many were lost. Mostly, the precinct had been working at keeping civilians safe and providing what little protection they could. Half the force hadn't shown up to work since the attack, and she didn't know if it was because they were dead, trapped, or simply felt they had more important things to do than attempt to keep peace in the middle of a war.

Still, it was not every day Keph called in, and considering what he'd given-- and lost-- on her watch, well, she wasn't going to not take the call.

"Keph?" She winced at how hoarse her voice sounded; she'd always been gruff, but the complete lack of sleep combined with the smoke weren't doing her any favors.

"Chief, I know this isn't a good time, but I got a big favor to ask you.." he knew it was a bad time, and he knew it wasnt fair; that's the part that bothered him the most. What rivaled that in guikt was the knowledge that there was a selfish aspect to his impending request, and that is to alleviate potential inefficiencies in Fisk's work by removing the distraction of his missing brother. It was mutually beneficial to everyone except the officers at the precinct...and well...anyone who doesnt receive help because bodies have been diverted to a personal request.

Still, what was the point of working for clout and reputation if you never called it in? All of these moral and ethical quandaries circled through Keph's mind in the few beating seconds that passed after his last words.

He leaned against a wall as much as one could when their head protruded so much further than their back.

"A colleague of mine in the field... his brother's not checked in since Akiton went dark. I know what that means, I'm pretty sure he does too, so I'm not calling asking for miracles... but if you could dedicate a few guys to finding him... either way it turns up... it might help his focus. The guy is named Fisk, his missing brother is Twib. The rest of his family is accounted for, I'm sure they can provide you with photos and such...."

He felt worse and worse, but knew he had to try.

"Can you... do that for me?"

The sigh that came over the line was the definition of weary. Ruk knew she didn't have the time or manpower to devote to such a request, but at the same time, she wasn't going to refuse Keph and it was likely he knew that.

"Last known location? Part of a warren? Names of family members I could contact who remain on Akiton? Any other pertinent information?" The ysoki sounded as exhausted as she felt, and the idea of diverting two men to try and find a missing boy in the midst of everything else that was happening certainly didn't help matters. How much more paperwork was going to be needed to get this overlooked by superiors? She could probably finagle a good reason, if she worked hard enough. And if she only diverted one person instead of two and then put herself on the case... Her mind swirled with possibilities, but she needed more information before she could reasonably begin.

"He's from a warren in the Kephak Depot area. I know it's not particularly convenient. I'll forward you details when I...." he broke off, something occurring to him or perhaps the privacy of the call threatened or more likely it was just a hard ask, "I didn't want to tell him I was making this call. I'd prefer this stay between us. Let me see what I can dig up on him and his brother. If I get that information, you'll put someone on it though?"

It felt like he was making a deal. Maybe he was. Shit, Ruk deserved better, but what's done is done.

"Understood, Olanti," she said, coughing slightly. The switch to his last name indicated she was treating this as business. "Send me whatever you can get, but I'll get someone on it now. Kephak Depot? We can spare... We can spare someone, I think. I'll do it myself if I have to."

Unseen by Keph, the older ysoki was shaking her head, one paw pressed to her temples in an attempt at dismissing the headache that was building behind her eyes.

There was a considerable pause. When it came to Keph, he usually already had his next statements pre-planned, but in this case, he was clearly debating how to reply. These were unprecedented times and he knew that.

"Can I do anything for you..?" he tried.

"Not unless you're planning to run the blockade around Akiton just to turn up for the next beat shift," Ruk huffed, "I've lost have the precinct in the last week, we're understaffed as hell and the ones who are still showing up, well. I don't know how much longer they'll be useful. Keph, they've got undead bodies on every corner and--"

There was a choking noise, something akin to holding back tears.

"They're reanimating fallen corpses. I saw Kort two days ago, a hole straight through his chest, wandering the streets." Kort was one of the precinct's "muscles", a massive red-skinned Hylki with few words and an eye for trouble. He'd been Ruk's right hand man, a regular presence at the station and a neighborhood favorite. The mental image of him dead and still walking was no small part of why Ruk wasn't even trying to sleep anymore.

Keph's secondary arms twitched angrily, the equivalent of a clenched jaw and deeply furrowed brow.

"I didn't realize," he said, "I knew Eoxians *could* raise the dead. I didn't realize they were using it as an offensive strategy." He recalled the times he'd checked the news since Akiton fell. It seemed that Pact news was keeping this detail minimized if not hushed all together. It wouldn't matter for long as communications reopen. Everyone will know.

And that meant panic.

"It's effective psychologically as well, isn't it? It's working on you," he took a breath through a number of invisible spiracles, "Ruk, you need to sleep. I know it's hard, but you *will* feel better with a fresh head. This is a long game, and the sooner we start playing, the sooner we stop losing. I promise nothing will happen in the next 6 hours that won't be better dealt with after you've had some rest."

There it is, the guilt. He felt terrible for asking anything. The memory of the day after losing Pad played through his head like a highlight reel of nightmares. It felt like any small favor, even an inquiry, was going to make him snap.

"God, I sound like you," he admitted, knowing he did a pretty poor job of following instructions when the roles were reversed. That was all before the Stewards and The Job.

That garnered a chuckle, barely audible over the line.

"You're not wrong, on either count. I'll... try. To get some rest." Ruk sighed. She knew this had to be dredging up uncomfortable memories for Keph and she hated to put him through that. Guilt plagued her, the knowledge that she was, in part, responsible for the loss of his partner. Hell, she'd partnered them up to begin with, so long ago. She wondered if the contemplative knew her willingness to acquiesce to his personal favor requests was rooted in a pit of shame and self-hatred that she hadn't felt for the loss of any of the other men or women on her squad

"Thanks, Chief. I'll be in touch soon." He reached out a little and felt the humming minds of his nearby colleagues. These little lights were beginning to feel familiar to him and that was a comfort in the end.

"Keph? Stay safe, okay?" It was a request, but it had the tone of an order, the tone she'd use when he worked for her. "I'll keep an eye on my pad for any communiques from you."

The reply would have been a detached acknowledging smile, but from the Chief's side, it was just silence. Now he just had to get through dinner and he could finally be alone.

Alone.

He didnt want to be alone, no Contemplatives did, and for the first time in years, he wasnt. Ever since hed made the decision to bond with the group, there was this static in his mind reminding him of their presence. There is no alone like this, and that's the way it's supposed to be.

Everyone seemed to be adjusting well enough except....*right. Jeredith.*

He did feel a little bad for snapping at him, though the feeling still felt oddly justified. It occurred to him he ought to ask someone else, just to verify he wasbt the only one who thought the mysterious shapeshifter was a little *too* private.

After all, they're supposed to be a team.

He left the wall and floated over to the table, taking a seat across from Taroyn.

((Compilation of a text-based RP))

#starfinder #starfindercampaign #cosmic chronicles #cosmicchronicles #kephales #taryon #akiton

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shoecartel · 7 years

Text

Aaron Paul:’ It’s impossible not to throw our own emotions into the mix’

The star of Eye in the Sky on the droning debate, learning to love LA, and the return of Breaking Bads Jesse Pinkman

Aaron Paul is a 36 -year-old actor who came to prominence playing crystal meth merchant and producer Jesse Pinkman in Breaking Bad , for which he won three Emmy awardings. In Eye in the Sky he plays a droning pilot was necessary to blow up an Al-Shabaab cell in Kenya.

Eye in the Sky is dedicated to the memory of Alan Rickman , who co-starred. Did you get to meet him ? Sadly we never had the opportunity. This was the second movie he and I did together, but I never had the privilege of meeting the man. Im very blest to have shared a screen with him. Your character refuses to fire his droning because he is likely to kill an innocent girl. But if he doesnt act, the suicide bombers hes targeting might kill many more innocents. Do you have a moral posture on that dilemma ? Its impossible not to throw our own emotions into the mixture. I feel I side with my character on this, thats why Im so happy I dont have to be in his shoes and Im not part of the decision-making process. Hes just trying to bide time, to wait until the last possible moment to release his payload. Has there been much debate in the US about the use of droning warfare ? Absolutely, theres been a discussion ever since dronings started flying. But if you talk to our director[ Gavin Hood ], whos been doing endless amounts of research for the past three or four years, he informed me that even when the longbow was created and they started utilizing that in battles, people thought it was terribly unjust. How are you peacefully pulling back a longbow from across a giant field in the convenience of your bunker? Drones are a more dramatic version of that.

Eye in the Sky trailer

You grew up in Idaho, the son of a baptist pastor. What kind of childhood was that ? It was unbelievable. I appreciate it much more now being away from it. I grew up on the lagoon, floating the rivers , nothing but mountains and streams and wildlife and that kind of thing. I was always snowboarding from a very young age. And you think, oh God I cant wait to get out to live a more exciting life. But now living in Los Angeles since I was 17, I cannot wait to get back to Idaho. You moved to LA as a adolescent. Was that a lonely hour of your life ? I didnt fall in love with Los Angeles as quickly as I had imagined I would. It took me a good two to three years to actually love the city. Now Im madly in love with it. Theres a lot of Los Angeles that at first glance youre frightened by, a lot of fake people and the glitz and glam, thats not really my cup of tea. Then eventually you get your core group of friends who you love and trust. I wouldnt call it lonely. I was fighting for something. I was trying to get my foot inside that door. And eventually the door was opened. Did you ever think of ceasing ? There was a lot of anxiety. I never wanted to quit. I had many ups and downs in the business. I started doing commercials to pay my bills, then I stopped doing that because I wanted to focus on guest places on Tv. If you have a lull in working its hard to keep up and pay your bills. Right before Breaking Bad was likely the lowest point in my career. That was the first time I had ever asked for any money from my family, and my family didnt have any money to dedicate. But they managed to get some money together and pay my rent of 3 months in a row. That was unbelievably heartbreaking for me. Jesse Pinkman was a wonderful character, and one of his distinctive characteristics was his deep lazy voice. How close is it to yours ? I took a while to actually know who Jesse was. In the pilot he just came off as this druggy burnout. I wanted him to stand out. I know this kid says Yo and bitch far too much. I wanted to create a character around that. His voice came to me throughout the first season of the prove. And I got a true sense of it in the second season. Is it difficult staying in one character over so many years? Does it begin to possess you ? A lot of periods it would be difficult but with a prove like Breaking Bad it actually induced it easier, because these characters were so well developed and absolutely on the page right there in front of us for the taking. The more scripts we had the more we figured out who these characters were. You are able to tell an incredibly descriptive narration in 62 hours of television.

I read that at one stage you were dreaming as Jesse Thats true. I truly lived and inhaled every moment and then some of what you insure on screen. It was almost impossible not to guess as Jesse, to actually transform into that guy. So at night there would be periods when I would wake up in a panic as Jesse, and bad things were happening to me. Which actually I was so into. I never had that experience before of dreaming as the character.

Theres talk of you turning up on the prequel , Better Call Saul . Do you have any news about that ? All I can say is that weve had multiple dialogues about such a possibility and if it were to happen it would happen for absolutely all the right reasons. They wouldnt wishes to hurl Jesse in just so the audience could see him in the background. Hed have to really enter the tale. And as Im such a huge fan of Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul , if they did figure out a way to stimulate that happen Id be very excited. What do you do to relax ? Any chance I have just to be at my house, I take it. Im never at home, Im always travelling. I never work in LA. Being home is actually a vacation for me and my wife. Music is our obsession. I fell in love with my wife at a music celebration. We have concerts inside our living room. Whenever were in town, we track down artists playing in Los Angeles and just reach out to their tour manager and see if theyd like to play our living room. Do you think youd be able to make crystal meths to a reasonable quality if you were required ? Absolutely not. I wouldnt even know how to jolt myself up. I would be terrible at it.

Eye in the Sky is out 15 April