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devourer--of--books · 4 years

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if you’re not the bride (deluxe version)

So you may be wondering why is it you're seeing this. Hello, it is I again. If you're here, maybe you're familiar with the original "if you're not the bride', which I posted about three years ago. In case you're not, then, hello, welcome, when I was 15 I wrote a story under this same title. Then forgot all about it. But every so often someone would come across this story and I was reminded of its existence. Then, back in september 2019, I decided to read it again, correct some grammar and call it a day, you know, just so I could rest assured I hadn't written something horrible. Turns out, it got a bit out of hand and I decided to rewrite the whole thing. However, due to the fact that college is the worst, I never finished it and, well, forgot about it, again. Now, as quarantine came around, I found my rewrite from 6 months ago and since I got the time why not, right? This is now more than double the size of the original and has a lot more of backstory than intended. You can still find the original with some corrections here on AO3 and , and the cursed unedited version somewhere on tumblr for the sake of nostalgia. Warnings: There's cursing, some drinking and good old make outs. July 2020 edit: here I am, re-edting this thing again. This all said, welcome folks, to the deluxe version:

"You're going to what?!" Agatha raised her voice, tightly holding her phone to her ear. Surely, she must have heard Sophie wrong. Her friend did have a reputation for being over the top, but this was beyond absurd.

When people said that being friends with Sophie was…an exotic experience, they weren't completely wrong, per say. Being friends with Sophie could be a lot like being friends with a hungry animal. She was ruthless, dangerous and not trustworthy about 60% of the time. Sophie would do most anything to get whatever she wanted and absolutely would step over you in the process (sometimes for no reason other than because it amused her to do so). It wasn't personal, mostly. It was simply her nature.

For her, there were two kinds of people: her friends and her enemies. It was very easy to go from one category to another and anything in between simply couldn't be processed by her brain.

Sophie was a difficult person.

Agatha could tell you in more detail, she would know. Being Sophie's best friend wasn't exactly a dream come true. It had its perks of course, and when all was said and done, Sophie was an okay-ish person and a mostly good friend, but you gotta give it up to Agatha; it was no task for the weak-hearted.

They had been friends since kindergarten and were as different from one another as it gets. Had they met later in life, Agatha is certain they would've never become friends at all. Sophie was a loud, gorgeous (and kinda mean) blonde bombshell and Agatha was a grumpy, average-looking mostly nice girl (she wouldn't call herself kind, really, her niceness was more of a subproduct of her aloofness than anything else). The two of them disagreed in most anything and had not that much in common. Yet, it somehow worked. They argued a lot, as in, a lot, but it was always fixed within a weeks' time, in a coffee shop, over a good old vanilla latte and some black tea.

An odd pair, to say the least.

Which was fine by them. Sophie… was a work in progress. She was trying.

Nevertheless, every once in a while, something like this would happen. Because Sophie was still Sophie and her head worked in mysterious ways.

"I'm getting married, Aggie," Agatha could practically hear the blonde rolling her eyes on the other side of the device, "people do that all the time. It's, like, a thing."

"Sophie, you're not even done with college yet! Getting married with what money? As far as I know, your modeling barely pays your rent and don't even get me started on your student loan and credit card debt! And getting married to whom? Last time I checked, you weren't even going out with anyone!" She tried to cool her head, catching her breath while trying to recall any possible groom Sophie could have taken. "Unless… Are you marring Hort?"

A disgusted groan was heard.

"Ew, no. Not Hort, for God's sake. What do you think I am? Desperate?"

A bit, but Agatha didn't dare say it out loud.

Hort was a guy who lived at the apartment just below Sophie's, in a tiny complex downtown. They've known each other for quite a long time now. It was practically common knowledge that Hort acquired the biggest crush on her the moment he first laid eyes on her. It was all the old ladies from 1A and 2C ever talked about.

Over the years, he became quite easy on the eyes, even Sophie had to admit it. No longer the scrawny awkward kid that helped Agatha drag Sophie's couch upstairs (while Sophie flirted with the trucker, trying to get free shipping for her mattress, which, by the way, she got), but a fully formed man, completely jacked, and with a growing bank account to match, due to his fitness-program-thingy taking off. Agatha didn't really know the details of that, but she knew it was going well, mostly because Sophie told her so.

Anyway, he claimed to not want anything to do with her friend nowdays.

Yeah, right.

Agatha felt bad for him, she really did.

Loving Sophie was like loving a hurricane. Violent, brutal and downright painful.

She had initially assumed it would go away with time, that he would eventually see that they weren't compatible and let it go.

However, it was a bit more complicated than that, as most things in life tend to be.

She knew he and Sophie had hooked up, in fact, she knew that they did so often. Sophie hadn't told her, but she didn't need to. Agatha knew. The aftermath was never good, and for the sake of keeping things short and lighthearted, Agatha shall spare you the angst and just say that, as mentioned above, Sophie was fantastic at getting whatever she wanted and disregarding other people's feelings.

Honestly, Hort could say he wasn't into Sophie all he liked. At the end of the day, he was still living at that shitty apartment (even though he could probably have moved somewhere better a long time ago), hadn't seriously dated anyone since meeting her and was responsible for at least half of Sophie's modeling gigs, which were her friend's main source of income. Agatha had warned him, several times, mind you, but all you can do is all you can do. The heart wants what it wants, she presumes.

"If not Hort, who then?"

"Oh, you don't know him yet," She could practically see Sophie twirling a golden lock on her fingers, a mischievous smirk on her face.

"Clearly," Agatha rolled her eyes and put her phone on speaker to be able to look around for her keys more comfortably. Reaper, her cat, had a bad habit of hiding them in the weirdest places. "Why didn't you tell me you were seeing someone last time we went out for coffee?"

"Because I wasn't seeing anyone at the time," the blonde-haired woman sounded a bit annoyed, seemingly not understanding why Agatha was having such a hard time believing her ludicrous story.

"Sophie."

"Yes, Aggie?"

"That was literally three weeks ago."

"It's true love, Agatha. I can feel it. This is my real-life fairytale. I found the perfect guy for me. He's so different from anyone I've ever met…" Agatha tuned her out, finally realizing what was going on.

For Sophie, everyone she dates is her one true love. She was intense like that. There were lots of "perfect guys" on the list, too many, and eventually Agatha grew tired of counting them. Neither did she remember their names. Why bother, when Sophie would grow tired of them soon enough?

Her friend's drug of choice just so happened to be was serial dating with lots of love-bombing on the side.

Parents got divorced? Look at this cute basketball player that will probably cheat on me.

Bad day at a shoot? Oh, that barista is so sexy, bet he'll hook up with me anyway.

I have no idea where my career is going and hate my major? Why not call Hort up, right?

But getting actually married? That's new.

Agatha sighed, picking up her keys from the pot of her balcony plant. Time to be the be the grown-up. Again.

"Sophie, are you 100% sure you want to get married to this guy? Can't you wait a few months at least? How about you guys move in with each other first?" If Sophie doesn't tire of him, that would terrify the poor thing into ending this madness. Again, Agatha would know. She had to stay at Sophie's for a few weeks once, back when she had split with a partner whom she had been living with; it was hell on earth.

"Weren't you hearing, Aggie? We. Are. Soulmates. He is very serious about me. He's so in love with me, he would never hurt me, and I need to tie him down before he runs away. Isn't this what people always say?" Her friend's voice was getting snappy. Oh, no, not good.

"Sophie, I just think you should be more careful and reasonable…" Agatha tried to pacify, tiredly.

Did she not own any clean jeans? Damn. Why does she keep forgetting to do her laundry? The blue skirt she wore to work would have to do.

"It's always reason, with you, Agatha! You never listen to your heart! I thought you would be happy for me! You're always telling me just how much potential I have! He brings out the best in me! What do you even know about relationships anyway, you always end up ru-"

"SOPHIE!" She interrupted, before her friend could say something she'd regret and crush whatever good mood was left in Agatha's body. "I'm just surprised, that's all. Tell me about this guy…?"

Fuck it, she decided. Agatha was in currently in a hurry and this could be solved later. She wasn't going to be able to win Sophie over the phone. Maybe she could sit her down on sunday, have one long talk about red flags in relationships, again. Convince her to stay engaged for a bit longer, just enough for her to get bored and then call it all off as soon as the new whats-his-face walks through the door.

Now was not the moment to be arguing, especially if she wanted to be on time.

"…And he's so great and wonderful, he's tall, has these hypnotizing eyes, they're so intense, it's like they suck you in, Aggie! His hair is just wow, it's a very uncommon shade of blonde, the undertone is beautiful, so expensive-looking... but it's natural, he swears. And his skin is so soft, you wouldn't believe, his name is…"

Agatha tried to listen. She really did. However, all she could hear was "bla, bla, bla, perfect, bla, bla, bla, handsome". Lord, not this again. Did it get worse every time...?

The brunette stuffed her wallet in a handbag, grappling to close it (it had been a present from Sophie, and as such, probably hardwired to annoy her and look good at the same time), and gave herself a look over in the mirror, before frowning. Oh, time for her limited make-up skills to be of use.

Damn, she looked rough. She left in hurry that morning, so her bare face stared back at her in its full sleepless-racoon glory.

It has been a long week of nothing but late nights trying to get her workload done. She couldn't believe she was saying this, but she missed college. At least back then she didn't have to worry about rent. Oh, to be young, broke, dead-inside and living on a dorm. The wonders, truly.

Concealer, blush, eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. There. Done.

Kinda?

"… So, are you up to it?"

What.

"… Hm, sure?" She responded, still trying to evaluate if her liner was acceptably symmetrical. It wasn't. It never was, but it wasn't always this bad. Really, not her best work. Maybe she could fix it, somehow?

"That's amazing, you'll look so pretty, the dress I picked is perfect for your undertone, you'll be the best maid-of-honor ever!"

Oh, god, no. No way. What has she done?

Should she do that red-flag-talk now?

"How… nice of you to say that," Agatha replied, barely contained horror coming across in her tone. Not that Sophie paid her any attention.

"I set the date for the engagement brunch-party for tomorrow around 10am. At the terrace. And speaking of dates, I must introduce you to someone, he's great, Aggie, and I think you guys could…"

No. No. No. Agatha is drawing the line here.

"Oh really, cool, hey I have to go, callyoulaterbye-"

Agatha throws her phone on the bed, groaning loudly. Reaper stirs in her pillow, but is otherwise unbothered by the conversation, unlike his owner.

Of all things… getting married. Agatha was now her bridesmaid. Engagement brunch…?

Sophie, why. Why?

Agatha was now an accomplice of this crime against good judgement, wasn't she? Should she call Sophie again…?

Ugh, you know what? She'll sort this out this later. Sophie could wait a few hours, Agatha earned this night out.

…This totally is going to come back to bite her, isn't it?

Well, too late, Agatha's leaving. Because, unlike Sophie, who clearly had too much free time in her hands, Agatha had things to do and couldn't just waste her precious friday nights on this kind of bullshit.

"You're late," is the first thing Hester says to Agatha, not even lifting her gaze from her phone as she approaches their table.

It was the usual one, right by the wall, perfectly placed so it was far enough from the dance floor but close enough to the bar, so it was still socially acceptable to be seated but not too "loser-zoned", in Hester's own words.

Hester herself looked the same as always. Dressed head-to-toe in black and showing off an impressive number of tattoos per square inch of skin, she made quite the intimidating sight. The only tip to her actual day job was the discarded white blazer and sleek suitcase lying on a chair beside her. Back in school, Agatha used to find it hard to picture Hester being anything but a witchy-biker or a badass-tattoo-artist, but she supposed scary-lawyer suited her friend just fine.

"Nice to see you too, Hester. I've been well, thanks for asking," Agatha sits down, annoyed. She knows she's late. She missed the "early-comers, free entrance" time, and damn if the isn't pissed that she's now 15 bucks broker then she already was. "Anadil, Dot, it's great to see you guys too"

Both women acknowledge her presence quietly: Anadil nods,before getting up from her spot and leaving to god-wishes-he-knew-where and Dot hugs her briefly, headed to the bar.

Hester rolls her eyes and repeats herself.

"You're late."

"Shut up, I'm here, aren't I?!" Agatha snaps, before she bit her lip and propped her elbows onto the table, head in her hands.

The gesture makes Hester lift her eyes from the phone, finally.

"Well, someone's had a bad day."

"Look, I'm sorry. It's been one looong horrid day. Have you ordered any drinks? Or are we going for beer tonight?" Agatha asks, going over the familiar menu, even though she has every beverage price there already memorized.

"Okay, slow down," Hester yanks the menu out of her hands. "Have you eaten? I'm not going to take care of you if you didn't."

Yes, she would, but that's not relevant.

"Yes, mom," Agatha rolled her eyes. "I'm tired, tomorrow is gonna suck, let's drink."

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow's saturday, loser, sleep to your hearts content," Hester reminds her, but at seeing Agatha stare back at her in misery it occurred to her what, or rather, who, this was about.

"Blondie has been texting me non-stop about brunch. At 10. What's up with that?" She lifts a brow, her judging eyes scanning Agatha's expression. Agatha in turn, lets her elbows drop and bangs her head onto the table, harder than originally planned, a whimper leaving her lips.

Hester sighs. She loves Agatha to the death, but when it comes to Sophie, she has always been way too forgiving. Agatha was not Sophie's mother, she shouldn't have to look out for her and bend over backyards to help her. Personally, Hester and Sophie didn't get along very well.

Which lead to: Sophie never invited Hester anywhere, unless she wanted to rub something in Hester's face.

"...Apparently, she's getting married in, like, two weeks?" Hester's brows lift in surprise. "...To some guy I don't know?" Higher. "...And I'm a bridesmaid?" Almost disappearing into her hairline by now.

Awkward pause.

"Okay," Hester breathes in and out, "what the actual hell?"

"My words exactly."

"She'll be over it in a week," the tattooed woman deadpans.

"No doubt," the other replies.

Three more seconds go by, and it's far too long for Agatha, whose leg starts to twitch under the table.

"You're doing it again," she states.

"Doing what?" Hester asks, crossing her arms, lying back at her chair.

"That thing."

"What thing?"

"You know," Agatha vaguely gestures at Hester's face, "that thing your eyebrows do when you're being judgy."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"I so need a drink right now," she tells her before leaving the table.

At the bar counter, Agatha sits down on a stool and waits for the bartender, Chaddick, to show up, ignoring Hester's glare on her back.

Now for some unnecessary backstory, in case you're interested: Agatha and Chaddick had a bit of history (read, beef) long before this club, The Woods, opened and even before Agatha and Hester started to have their monthly night-out there.

Chaddick was a jock whom Agatha went to school with, all the way from sixth grade to senior year of high school. To be brief, he was the worst ™. He made fun of her, tormented her days, spread rumors about her (including one that she was witch, which lasted for years) and even stole her stuff once. In senior year, he had even developed this habit of showing up with his friends at the tea place her mother owned, where she had worked a few shifts from time to time, ordering not a single drop of fucking tea, being loud and annoying for hours and only leaving when closing hour neared.

Agatha was sure that if you googled 'jackass', his picture would turn up. He'd been so full of himself, all because he had some cash, was athletic and was "cute", you know, in that white-upper-middle-class-way that most school-aged popular boys tended to be. But then, flash-forward: Chaddick now worked wednesday to saturday as a bartender at Agatha's favorite club. Apparently, his parents went bankrupt or something during college. Agatha felt kinda bad for him, but not really? She supposed he wasn't as terrible of a human being nowadays, but she was not about to go ahead and call him her friend, no matter how many times she had to make small talk with him for the sake of bar etiquette.

"So what's it gonna be today?" The bartender asked, not quite politely, but she lets it slide, for she could tell he was as thrilled about this conversation as her.

Chaddick, too, looks the same, to no one's surprise. He looked more tired, but still douchey enough that Agatha didn't feel too horrible of a person for not feeling as sorry for him as she probably should.

"Surprise me. I've had a very bad day."

"Is Sophie actually up to something then?" He asks while grabbing some bottles, "I hear there's going to be a brunch-party tomorrow…?"

"Who told you? Reena?" Chaddick dismisses the name casually with his hand. "Gisele?" 'no', he denies with his head. "Beatrix then?" he nods, uncharacteristically shy, and Agatha nearly felt pleased, before she remembered what they were talking about before. "Bingo. But yes, there's a brunch-party tomorrow. An engagement brunch-party."

He hands her a cup, wide-eyed, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"Engagement? Do I even wanna know w-"

"You don't. Trust me on this," Agatha cuts him off, taking a sip of the beverage. She doesn't recognize its taste, which makes her wary. She knows her alchool. "What did you even put here?"

"It's a secret, tonight's special," he winked mockingly, before hurrying on to the next client.

Agatha briefly wonders if she should drink the rest of it, eyeing the cup curiously. It didn't smell bad and she kind of liked the taste. Should she trust Chaddick? Probably not. Then again, Agatha needed a drink tonight.

It would be fine. She is no lightweight, Hester is here, tomorrow's saturday. Right?

Another thing that would probably bite her later. So, she braces herself and downs the cup in a few large sips, heading back to her table.

Bring it on.

Two other cups of who-knows-what and an hour later, Agatha was back at the bar, now sitting in different stool, as far from Chaddick as she possibly could be, when a body drops on the sit next to her.

It's Dot, giggling loudly like a high school girl on heavy drugs.

The giggling persists for quite some time.

... It's kinda creeping Agatha out.

"Penny for your thoughts…?" She tries, taking a sip of her drink.

No response.

Giggle.

More silence.

"Hm, Dot?"

She continues to stare at her joyfully, still smiling like a madwoman.

Agatha found Dot adorable and friendly, which was a surprise since she was one of Hester's best friends. The two of them weren't really that close themselves, but she did enjoy her company. Being friends with Dot was as easy as it was harmless.

"Don't look, but there's a really hot guy right by the pool table who hasn't been able to take his eyes off you for the last fifteen minutes."

Agatha's eyebrows shot up in Hester-like fashion and she fights the instinct to turn around and check if Dot isn't messing with her.

She knows she is not the most attractive female in the room. Agatha tends to think of herself as more of an acquired taste, truly. Yet, every blue moon someone would come over to try their luck with her. Sometimes they're cute, sometimes they're funny and sometimes they're just desperate. So far, "hot guys" haven't really been her target demographic.

"So what? What's the big deal?" She tries to keep her nerves out of her voice, mostly succeeding, but Dot's smile only grew more and more mischievous, as if seeing right through her.

"Turn around. I dare you not to remember him. Pretty sure Sophie told you about how she met him again a few weeks ago, at that event she went to? The one sponsored by Camelot International?"

…Okay, so Agatha might be a bit of a bad friend. She didn't listen to 90% of Sophie's rants about guys or modeling events, so most likely she had told her about him as Agatha did something else. Something important, really.

…Like playing games on her tablet.

She worked a lot, okay? Can't have people hogging all her free time. Even if it was Sophie. Her best friend.

Shit.

Agatha's face must have betrayed her because Dot laughed even louder than before.

"You seriously don't?" she managed to ask between giggles, as Agatha blushed, frowning.

"I should?"

"Most likely yes. Sometimes you're way too funny, you know?" Her smile was dangerous. Stop smiling at Agatha like that, woman.

It was at times like this she could see why Hester and Dot were such good friends.

"Thanks, I think?" Agatha eyes her companion carefully "How hot is this guy any…"

"Hot enough for you to talk to me, I hope," a male voice announced behind her, seemingly amused.

Not her day. Definitely not her day.

"He's right behind me?!"

Dot giggled loudly a final time before walking away to Hester's table. Very helpful. Forget what Agatha said about liking Dot. She didn't. Dot was a horrible person.

Agatha turned on her heels, facing the stranger with a sheepish smile. She was not ready for what was about to bite her.

Oh damn, please do.

…Figuratively, fuck. She meant in a figurative way.

Before we go on, Agatha would like to clarify that she blames any less than pure thoughts on Chaddick, because who knows what he put into her drink.

(Yeah, it's totally Chaddick's fault)

Amen, praise Jesus, okay?

Embarrassingly, her first instinct is to say that yes, he was totally hot enough to talk to her. Or come home with her. Or marry her (too soon for this joke, scratch that). That's not what she did, however. Oh, no, she stood there, in silence, and stared for quite a while before her brain rebooted and she finally gained control of her own body again.

Agatha is the first in line to advocate on why you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but she had eyes.

He was tall. As tall, if not taller than her, and Agatha was a tall woman. His jeans looked expensive and his light blue social shirt was tight on his chest, almost as if it were a size too small, the top buttons open, defined muscles visible to even the most casual observer. The shirt was paired with a grey-ish tie that hanged loosely around his neck, a bit too effortless-looking to be unintentional. His features were sharp, sculpted even, a certain California-sunny-surfer meets Adonis-next-door quality to them. Soft blond locks had an unnatural shine under the club's lights, as if they were made of gold.

And his eyes, my god, they were so blue Agatha felt like sinking and drowning in his arms right then and there. Unfortunately, she couldn't. Because you see, she is a grown woman and had a little thing called dignity.

Not that she didn't want to though.

Focus.

He did look kind of familiar. Had they met before? Agatha doesn't think so. This man looked like he just walked out of a Calvin Klein ad, and she sure as hell didn't know many people who look like that. One of Sophie's model friends? If so, she certainly hadn't introduced the two.

Yet, the way he was looking at her right now indicated the reality that she should probably know who he is. Maybe he was from her old gym, back when she let Sophie talk her into going for a few months? No, there were no hot guys there, just old ladies and teenagers.

Okay, so, plan B, say something smart.

"Hm…"

Say something.

"…So…"

Anything!

He doesn't look very impressed by her articulate conversation skills, but Agatha can't place where she had seen him before. Maybe they had been neighbors at some point? She moved quite a few times in these last years and keeping track of all of them was impossible. But that didn't seem quite right. A friend of one of her exes then? Did they meet at pride or something?

Seriously, who was this guy! Acting all smooth, as if she should know who he is! He's good looking enough to be memorable sure, but clearly not memorable enough.

Hell, did she sleep with him? He must have been the worst one night stand ever for Agatha to somehow forget him. Maybe he was so bad that she forgot about him completely...?

"I give up, I can't remember you."

He looked a bit offended. Maybe he was indeed a Calvin Klein model.

"The name's Tedros…?"

Tedros, Tedros… Tedros?

"Nope, doesn't ring a bell," she concludes, "but, I'm, hm, Agatha?"

"I know," he responds, curt and firm, nearly glaring at her.

"Neat."

"Nice."

"Good."

"Great."

"Awesome."

"Amazing."

"Extraordinary."

"Now, that's a big word," he mocks. Agatha suspects he just didn't know any bigger ones to keep up. Part of her wishes to strangle him with his own tie and part of her wants to call him out on his shit. He approached her, okay? She is under no obligation to recognize him.

Her eyes narrow and she sips on her fourth cup again.

"Do you need for me to tell you what it means?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine."

The passive-aggressive-ness of this conversation is starting to exhaust her and kill any buzz she had, but she can't just let Mr. everyone-knows-who-I-am-and-I-look-like-walking-sex win. He needed to go down (on her). What.

"Hm, Tedros, you're going to order something or what?"

Chaddick cuts the stare contest between brown and blue and Agatha makes a note to leave him a nicer tip tonight.

"What's the special of the day?" Tedros' tone is amused, as if he and Chaddick are old friends. Ugh, of course he would. He sounded douchey enough. Maybe he went to school with her? That sounded about right, she could picture it. Pretty-boy-Tedros, walking down the hall wearing a football jacket with a cheerleader or two on his arm.

"Nice little things I've put together," Chaddick wiggled his eyebrows. "Want some?"

"Is it safe?" Tedros asks him, cautiously.

"Well, Agatha here is still fine at four, I would say so."

Soon enough Tedros is downing his second cup, sitting on the stool next to hers.

Agatha wasn't sure how or why, but things went from point A to point B very, very quickly.

Point A being sitting beside Tedros at the bar and point B being heavily making out with him in a corner.

Agatha wishes she was joking. She wasn't. It just…somehow…happened?

Fuck.

It all started when Tedros eventually caught up to her and from there on they held a little amicable drinking competition.

("I bet you can't do more shots than me." "Oh, you're so on!" "You drink like a fourteen-year old, dude." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah.")

Then, they paid for their drinks. Well, Tedros did.

("Did you just... pay for me?" "It's called having manners." "Excuse you?")

After that, Chaddick kicked them out to the dance floor, something about the two of them 'grossing him out'. Agatha is not much of a dancer, so she tried to go back her table but Tedros said something (she can't quite remember what it was) that made her realize that she kind of didn't want to. Leave, she means.

They danced for a bit before she stepped on Tedros's foot, or maybe he stepped on hers first?

("Ouch." "Get out of my way!" "Make me.")

From there on it was incomprehensible screaming over loud music for a while and they somehow ended up being way too up in each other's personal space. Agatha eventually just lost it, and grabbed him by his collar, bringing him down to place a forceful peck on his lips, before backing away, partly horrified, partly proud.

It took two mortifyingly long seconds of silence and pure embarrassment for Tedros to grab her by the waist and kiss her roughly.

They stumbled to a more secluded corner, until Agatha's back hit a wall, but she was distracted from the pain of the impact by Tedros licking her bottom lip, seeking her tongue, a small sound escaping her once he found it. What the hell is she even doing, this should not be happening. And yet, she cannot bring herself to care.

This is a wild, passionate kiss and not at all Agatha's expertise. She always considered herself more of a slow-vanilla-soft kind of girl. But out the window with that, Tedros was nowhere near close enough, no matter that they were already flush against each other. Maybe this is why Sophie thinks every guy she meets is her soulmate. As cheesy as it sounds, she feels somehow connected to this stranger, almost as if they were meant to be or something.

Ha, as if.

Any thoughts, of soulmates or otherwise, are forgotten when Tedros' hands start to wander, one goes from her waist to her hip and the other moves to explore her tight, squeezing it deliciously. Agatha retaliates by pulling on his hair, not as lightly as she probably should've, but is rewarded with a husky groan and a bite on her bottom lip.

(She does it again because that might be her new favorite sound.)

What. Is. Going. On.

Her last braincells are on fire. She was on fire.

Okay, young lady, de-attach yourself from the handsome male slo…

Oh God.

She's pretty much breathless when he decides to break the kiss, her lips chasing after his for the slightest second as he pulls away. Her heartbeat has never been this loud and she has no time to overthink, as, suddenly, his lips are on her neck. Agatha lets out a quiet, but embarrassingly needy, whine (as quietly as she could, but it didn't really matter, he heard her anyway) when he nips on her ear and then trails down to suck at her pulse point. Her hands snake their way from his hair to under his shirt's collar and Tedros shivers once she drags her short nails lightly on his upper back and shoulders, but she can still feel his very attractive smug smirk against her skin.

She felt drunk. She doesn't feel like that often.

Not the completely-trashed-I-just-had-countless-drinks kind of drunk and certainly not this don't-care-keep-going-my-blood-is-on-fire kind of drunk either. Like she wanted to keep touching Tedros for the rest of her life (the idea doesn't sound half bad), as fireworks danced around them and… God, if Sophie knows this guy how she could not marry him on the spot, because fuck…

He's leaving quite a few love bites along her collarbone, teasing, attempting (and succeeding) at drawing tiny sounds from her and Agatha can't take it anymore. She drags him back up to her mouth and somehow pulls him even closer. She did not like feeling weak, but to her surprise, Tedros seemed to possess the superpower of turning her completely boneless in the best kind of way.

Wait.

Agatha is making out with Tedros.

Tedros is making out with her.

Agatha's eyes open in late realization and the two of them stare at each other for a few seconds.

So, this happened, huh?

"I… hm… have to go. Out of here. Home. Alone. Yeah, that," Agatha makes way around paralyzed Tedros, whom looks very confused and disoriented. His lips are tainted with coral lipstick, he's panting for air, his bright eyes dark with desire, clothes looking disrelished, pants looking a bit too tight, and he just looks throughfully kissed.

No, Agatha does not feel even a little tiny bit of pride by seeing him look like that because of her, what are you talking about, not sexy, not sexy at all.

… Maybe he could come along?

No. No, no, no.

She doesn't run away from him exactly, but she sure as hell wasn't walking. As she passes Hester and Anadil, the two of them raise eyebrows judgingly, but Agatha does her best to school her expression into neutrality.

If she waited a bit longer, she might have heard Tedros saying:

"Until tomorrow then."

Agatha regrets every single life choice that led her to this point.

She's sitting on a ridiculously shaped chair at Sophie's apartment building's terrace, brooding silently in the corner, with a big headache, while eating some diet cake that tasted like foam, listening to violin versions of bad pop songs, probably dying of heatstroke, and if that doesn't kill her soon enough, can someone please end her misery…

Hester and Anadil are not here after all. Agatha doesn't blame them. It might be for the best, because Agatha doesn't need to deal with Hester's judgy eyebrows right now. Dot is down in Sophie's apartment, at the kitchen, most likely trying to steal some wine and she is pretty much the only person here Agatha can stand.

She partly wonders if Hort will show up but decides she does not care. She's running on aspirin, her head feels like it was smashed against a wall multiple times, and it's too hot here, okay?

It's a hot sunny day and the limited shade would not be enough to cool Agatha down even if she wasn't wearing a scarf. Agatha hates this scarf. It was another one of Sophie's gifts, and Agatha hates it because it's an evil scarf that pinches her every five seconds. However it's the lightest scarf she owns, and she can't it take off.

Otherwise, someone might notice the dark mark on her neck, which her shirt could not hide, as was the case for the other ones, lower, in her collarbones.

Tedros freaking marked her. The nerve.

She's not nearly as pissed as she should be, because honestly she's kinda into it.

Taking off the scarf would lead to too much teasing and questions, she had no turtlenecks available (damn you, past-Agatha, for not doing your laundry) and if only she had the skills to cover it up with makeup. Not only was the scarf evil by itself, it made it impossible for her to not think of yesterday, therefore, making her even more irritable.

She is not the kind of person who kisses people at the club. She sure as hell wouldn't bring a guy she's just met, at the club of all places, home. What if he'd been a psycho? She doesn't know him. He'd know where she lived. She wouldn't go to his place either, that sounded even more irresponsible. But she wishes she had at least gotten his number, you know, instead of freaking out and running away. Well, he knew Chaddick, so maybe she could ask him?

No, that would be humiliating, and Agatha is trying to hang on to whatever dignity she had left.

Also, it had been almost an hour at this damned terrace party and she hasn't seen a single trace of Sophie's fiancé, but the blonde assured her he would be there soon. He's the late-type, hm.

Okay, so Agatha hates him already.

She has been to this terrace quite a few times, it was the one pro of Sophie's building, aside from cheap rent. But she was running out of both will and things to point out in small talk with all these models and small influencers. If she hears "Sophie has such a lovely terrace" one more time…

Suddenly, there was clank, signaling that someone pushed the terrace door open. As Sophie lit up and moved to greet the newcomer, Agatha felt the cake climb up her throat.

Holy hell, is that Tedros?

What is her life, really.

Agatha gets up from her chair quietly, observing the scene from behind a plant, trying not to be too obvious, just, ya know, casually chilling in the middle of the scorching sun. Sophie hugs him tightly, placing a kiss on his cheek, grinning as she laces their fingers together and starts walking in Agatha's general direction, pulling the handsome man behind her.

Hm, no.

Agatha resists the urge to pace in circles as she tries to gather her thoughts. It might be the hangover or the diet cake but seeing the two of them together made her wanna barf. Not because they didn't look good together. They did. In fact, maybe too good. Sophie's long soft hair was a shade or two lighter than Tedros', but other than that, they might as well have been made in the same Instagram-model-facility. Like a set, Barbie and Ken.

What is this feeling?

Oh no, she can see them approaching. Abort mission, leave, get out, hit the road…

"Aggie, darling!"

Agatha forces herself to fake a confident smile, as if she could always be found casually hanging out behind plants on saturday mornings. It turned out to be more of sheepish grin, especially when compared to her friend, whose pretty smile is almost too big for her too pretty face.

Sophie looked particularly gorgeous in her pastel green summer dress and peep-toe heels. Her tanned skin glows under the sun, the light catching in her green eyes on that special way that made photographers all around the industry want to work with her despite her inexperience, the grace within her movements creating an allure Agatha doesn't think she'd be able to recreate even if she were to be born again.

This is not good. Leave, abort mission, repeat, abort miss…

"Aggie, this is Tedros, you know, the one I was telling you about yesterday," she winked. "Teddy, this is my bestie, Agatha, you remember her, right?" Sophie nudges him lightly using her elbow.

Tedros looks even better now that she can see him in natural daylight. Which should be illegal, truly. He's wearing a plain white t-shirt and jeans, his hair made of pure gold looked just messy enough to not look too try-hard, yet something about him looked weirdly… staged? Agatha couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"I surely do," Tedros lets go of Sophie's hand, shoulders tensing, and Agatha thinks he might be blushing. Is he nervous? "We-"

"Nice to meet you," Agatha interrupts him, grasping his hand on a firm handshake and letting go just as fast, as if touching his skin would burn her. "Sophie told me a lot about you."

Play along, please. I beg you.

"Oh, hm, it's very nice to meet you too?" Tedros responds, confused, but not calling her out. "Nice scarf," he adds, his lips curling upwards, so very slightly she might have missed if she wasn't micro-analyzing his every movement. Smug bastard. She is all too aware of his gaze lingering on her neck, a hint of pride showing in his bright eyes, the teasing in his voice making her want to pull him down by the collar, whether to choke him or to kiss him she couldn't tell.

"Oh, isn't it cute? See, Aggie, I told you that color looked great on you!" Sophie cuts in, reaching to touch said scarf. Agatha steps back self-consciously, making an effort to not scratch the back of her neck as not to call more attention to it.

"Quite the bold fashion statement for the summer, may I add," Tedros continues as he casually leaned one elbow on Sophie's shoulder. Subtle enough that Sophie wouldn't read too much into it, but Agatha could see right through his shit. "But I like it. You look very pretty, Agatha"

How dare he, truly. No sham-

Wait.

"So, I need to get going, work emergency you see, but I'll make it up to you, Sophie," Agatha excuses herself, quickly. She tells herself it's just the heat that it's bothering her, but her brain is going 300 miles per hours and she needs to leave. Now.

"Aggie, tomorrow we'll be having lunch at the country club, don't be late!"

"Yeah, be there, alright."

Agatha sprints down the complex's stairs as discreetly as she can, which is not much. By the time she's at her car, the weight of her realization hits her full force.

"I'm getting married, Aggie"

"Not Hort"

"You don't know him yet"

"Aggie, this is Tedros, you know, the one I was telling you about yesterday."

"That was literally three weeks ago."

"I dare you not to remember him. Pretty sure Sophie told you about how she met him again a few weeks ago at that event she went to? The one sponsored by Camelot International?"

"…Oh he's so great and wonderful, he's tall, has these hypnotizing eyes, they're so intense, its like they suck you in, Aggie! His hair is just wow, it's a very uncommon shade of blonde, the undertone is beautiful, so expensive-looking, but it's natural, he swears, and his skin is so soft you wouldn't believe, his name is…"

"bla, bla, bla, perfect, bla, bla, bla, handsome"

"He's so different from anyone I've ever met…"

"She feels somehow connected to this stranger, almost as if they were meant to be or something."

"Acting all smooth, as if she should know who he is!"

"He looked a bit offended."

"The name's Tedros?"

"God, if Sophie knows this guy how could she not marry him on the spot…"

"Sophie hugs him tightly, placing a kiss on his cheek, grinning as she laces their fingers together and starts walking, pulling the handsome man behind her."

Agatha is a very bad friend, isn't she?

She bangs her head on the wheel.

Then, she regrets doing so, opening the car's door, so she could vomit some diet cake and last night's alcohol on the parking lot's floor before driving away.

By a miracle, Agatha survives the drive home and makes it back home in one piece.

As she walks into her own apartment, she does not feel half as guilty as she thought she would be. But she was very, very angry. Furious, actually.

At herself for being both a dumbass and a bad friend, at Tedros for being a player, at Chaddick for being a dick in general, at Sophie for being Sophie, at Dot for not warning her and even at Hester for not being at the party today so Agatha could at least not freak out by herself.

She can't do anything for the rest of the day, because trying to work, read or sleep is useless, since she can't focus with all the internal screeching her mind is doing. Her existence now doesn't make any sense and Agatha is about to tear her hair out, lying down in her bed, staring at the celling.

(There's a long crack on there and for whatever reason, it reminded her of a river. Probably because it didn't look like anything else.)

She contemplates calling Hester and telling her everything but ultimately decides against it. She can't bring herself to explain this out loud, least of all hear any possible lecture Hester might give her. Is this how Sophie feels when she decides hide things from her-

Oh my God, Sophie.

Tedros was engaged. To Sophie. He was Sophie's fiancé.

Agatha is not freaking out at all.

At last, ten long hours of sulking later, Agatha is feeling a lot guiltier, still very much pissed and just confused as a whole.

She made out with Sophie's fiancé. Should she tell her? Yes. Would she? To be decided.

Maybe they wouldn't even get married. Come on, a few weeks? There's no way Sophie will keep up this insanity. Telling her about the club incident would only hurt their life-long friendship over a guy who wasn't even gonna last two months. Years of companionship out the window. She had no intention of doing it again so, did it really matter? What the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel, right?

She hadn't even known he was Sophie's fiancé!

But then again, Sophie had told her all about him. She didn't listen because she was a bad friend! Was she really gonna play the "I didn't know" card...?

It was the truth!

But no one would believe her. Fuck, if Agatha were Sophie, she wouldn't believe herself. Agatha was a smart grown woman, godamn it. What kind of dumb bitch even-

This wedding wasn't happening. No need to worry, right?

For now, Agatha has two long weeks of supposedly weeding-related bonding moments with Sophie to survive, without accidentally letting slip that, oh, talked, drank, danced and made out with Tedros.

Well, shit.

Even if one ignored the fact that the guilt was starting to eat Agatha alive from inside out, the next day would still have been a long, tortured journey of nothing but cringe and regrets. Yet she bore it, because she, even if accidentally, brought this on herself.

Agatha got up early on a sunday (name a bigger crime) to try and get something done, since she would probably have little time to work in the following weeks. Then, she went to have lunch with Sophie at a fancy country club (that Sophie couldn't afford by the way, which earned her a lecture on credit cards and personal finances) hoping to have that "red-flag" talk.

It did not go well.

Sophie had invited him along. Of course, she would. Apparently, since she was getting married soon, Agatha should be used to have him around. And, of course, Sophie would have decided to tell her he was coming the moment he walked in, headed to their table.

This is Sophie's fiancé. Do. Not. Stare.

What kind of cosmic karma is this? He isn't even her type.

WHY-

"Afternoon, ladies."

Sophie greeted the blonde with a smile and a hug, as Agatha merely nodded his way, scanning the room for the closest exit.

"Hi Teddy!"

"Tedros."

Lunch is awkward as hell and at this point Agatha is just waiting for a waiter to come and stab her. It ends up being both not so terrible and the worst lunch ever because she does talk quite a lot with Tedros, against her better judgment.

She learns that Tedros did go to her school, for three years. Sophie asks him if he remembers Agatha, and from Tedros' silence, Agatha assumes he doesn't want to admit to having been part of Chaddick's... shenanigans.

Her friend then talks astrology, and Agatha learns that he is a leo (because of course he would), is kinda proud of it but says he doesn't believe in astrology, prompting Sophie to start a discussion on why he wouldn't believe in astrology if he believed in tarot. The way he blushes and stammers is cute and makes Agatha feel horrible for thinking so, but she asks him about tarot anyway. She's just being polite, okay?

He mentions he'd turned 26 a while ago and recently moved back to the city, as he moved away to go to college in Avalon. She tells him she almost went there, but her scholarship did not include a dormroom and she knew no one there to share an apartment with. His answer is a blunt "I know", which both confuses and pisses her off.

Tedros offers her no further info on it, but they engage in conversation again after he mentions he is working at Camelot International.

("As one of the main executives on the board," Sophie adds, "it's one of the most powerful companies in the country.")

They quickly bond over their massive workloads (Agatha may not be a main executive of a huge corporate empire, but damn if being head finance director for SGE Enterprises didn't keep her busy enough), until Sophie slips that he must be very lucky to be the sole heir to the Pendragon Group.

Oh.

Tedros Pendragon. Are you kidding? Agatha remembers seeing his family's name being all over the news back in school and she feels dumb for not remembering that Tedros and 'that Pendragon boy' were the same person. Hadn't his parents had a huge cheating-divorce-scandal that caused the stock for the company to plummet a few years ago?

Tedros frowns at Sophie before saying that, "Yes, indeed, he's very lucky."

The blonde doesn't seem to notice the way his hands grip the fork tightly as he pronounces the last word, but Agatha does.

It adds on to the list of things that keep her awake later, after she does her damn laundry and stress-cleans her entire apartment. She curses as she turns and tosses on her bed, because it's 2 AM, work starts in a few hours and she needs to sleep.

The next four days are not much different, the routine is pretty much the same, except they have dinner plans instead of lunch. Work, eat, work, do bridesmaid shit with Sophie and Tedros somewhere, avoid his gaze, talk for a bit over something like choosing the best flower arrangements, and then hightail out of there, only to come home and be restless.

She was still very confused, because honestly, Tedros didn't seem bad at all. The more she talked to him, the least she wanted to stop talking to him. He definitely had some family issues and was doing some overcompensating, but nothing that made him, like, a total trash human.

And yet, he was still the guy who hit on her (fucking made out with her), knowing exactly who she was, while being engaged to her best friend.

She always thought herself a good judge of character.

Anyway, she did her best to act aloofly polite and if he ever seemed to hint at the night at The Woods, Agatha cut him off before he could. It was a good plan. Wait it out. And it really was working just fine.

Until the dress store.

For some reason she cannot wrap her head around, Tedros is there too.

(Isn't there a tradition against seeing the dress of your bride before the wedding or something?)

At some point, Sophie struggles to get into a particularly complicated dress at the dressing room, yelling at the poor employees like a harpy on a rampage and Agatha is about to intervene when he manages to pull her aside, his grip firm but with a certain gentleness that made her skin burn.

He semi-drags her across the store through a sea of sparkly white dresses and into this small nook between sections. Agatha does not want to admit that the main reason why he is able to do that is because she allows him to.

Things only go downhill from there.

He has her cornered, her back nearly merging with the wall as he stands close to her, his posture tense, moving slowly, like one would in presence of a startled animal. He doesn't look like he is trying to purposely intimidate her, and she doesn't feel particularly unsafe. No words are spoken between them and the silence allows Agatha's senses to pick up on a deliciously rich smell. Is that Tedros' cologne-

Agatha forces down the rash that is creeping up her neck and tries to focus on doing what she does best, aka, running away from her problems. She looks anywhere but his face, but he is not making ignoring him an easy job.

"I don't get you."

What.

"Excuse me?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Agatha scoffs, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"I truly don't."

Her response seems to annoy him, which she counts as a win, but Agatha might have declared victory just a bit too soon. Tedros, who was a couple of feet away has managed to get way too close (yet again). His hand raises her chin and forces her to look into his eyes. Her resolution to run away falters and she's scared he might hear her heartbeat speed up.

"Playing dumb doesn't suit you, Agatha. One second you don't like me, then you do like me, then you don't again… I don't understand the game you're playing here… So, I'll make this simple, you won, congratulations, now stop playing games, now you know I'm interested."

Agatha blinks. This is… not the conversation she thought she was going to have.

Of course, during her nightly overthinking sessions she thought about what she'd say if he confronted her about the previous friday, even if she didn't think he'd have the balls to actually do it. But she seems to have been reduced to this dumpster fire nonsense. Tedros never did what she thought he was going to do and it was short-circuiting her braincells.

She's way too aware of the hold he has on her, the compromising situation they're in. One of his hands cages Agatha in, placed on the wall behind her head, while the other keeps her from adverting her gaze from his. Tedros is too close, he smells too good and his mouth looks too inviting.

She hears him, but she doesn't really hear him, his presence fogging up her senses.

Agatha briefly entertains the idea of giving into temptation and kissing him. How nice it would be to grab his collar, invert their positions, slam him against the wall and kiss him senseless, so he could feel just how helpless she felt having him corner her like this. Kiss him and just leave him there, wanting, begging, and…

What. Wow, fuck. Stop.

A new thought hits her like a ton bricks.

This guy is an asshole.

Tedros looks irritated and Agatha wants to punch him.

So she does.

She's strong enough to give him a black eye, but she (unintentionally, Agatha swears) holds backs and aims for his chest. However, she can tell it hurt a lot by the way his eyes water and he backs away several steps. She hears Sophie yelling their names across the store and giving Tedros one last glare, she turns around and walks away.

The nerve.

Why would anyone marry him?

Sophie needed a wakeup call. And fast. Because while Sophie could be a nightmare, she did not deserve to be played like that.

Agatha was not a superstitious person.

If she forgot her umbrella at home and it started raining when she left the dress shop (Tedros and Sophie both offered her a ride but she would rather choke, honestly, and said no, forgetting that she rode here with Sophie in the first place), it's not fate, it's bad luck. If she gets sick and loses her voice (and therefore can't go do neither her work or her bridesmaid duty), it's not conspiracy, it's simply a coincidence.

Well, call it fate, call it bad luck, call it conspiracy, call it coincidence. The case is that Agatha has lost her voice and has both a running nose and a fever. She considers texting the whole story to Sophie but changes her mind when she imagines the blonde woman's reaction.

Agatha, you're such a slut.

She is going to tell Sophie about this… this… this individual. Yeah, she was going to come clean and expose Tedros. No wedding.

Why was Tedros marrying Sophie anyway? She could understand why Sophie would go for Tedros. He did seem like her type. Young, rich, successful and handsome.

(Not really what she herself looked for. Agatha tended to go for witty, responsible people and who did not mind her blunt nature. Never in the history of ever, had Sophie and Agatha been interested on the same person.)

Anyway, he would give her lots of exposure, would look great on her Instagram feed, would be able to save her from her terrible apartment, student loan and infinite credit card debt, and would open up the world of fancy designer shoes and pretty gowns Sophie always dreamed of.

But why would he do that?

Tedros was, again, young, rich, successful and handsome. He hardly expressed any special affection towards Sophie or had the usual lovesick look most of Sophie's victims sported when they found themselves bewitched by her. They didn't really agree on much, from what Agatha gathered on their conversations, had no shared interests, lived completely different lifestyles, had different moral values and overall didn't seem to have the grandiose connection Sophie spoke of at all. Maybe he was with her because she was pretty? But again, why. There werw thousands of pretty girls willing to date young rich men, why Sophie in particular?

Something about this seemed off. She needs to talk to Sophie.

…When she recovered.

Alright, maybe it was conspiracy. The wedding was in two days.

Two days.

She supposes time does go by quickly when you're procrastinating something you really, really don't want to do. Nearly two weeks gone by in a flash. And, as she should, Agatha finally gets herself together. She is going to tell Sophie.

Well, she was going to tell Sophie. The blonde and a few of her friends were at The Woods for a last girl's night out. Meaning:

Sophie was currently drunk.

But maybe she wasn't?

She probably was though. Sophie was the most lightweight person Agatha knew, likely because she was so skinny. Girl could not hold her alcohol and drunk-Sophie was messy-Sophie. Unwilling, untamable and unimaginably difficult to have a coherent conversation with.

But, maybe she wasn't drunk? Agatha was not going to risk it.

She forces herself to hurry. She doesn't change out of her work outfit (merely discarding the suit's jacket), stopping by her house to feed Reaper and leave some important documents. Agatha even nearly forgets to lock her front door, calling a car to the club, hoping it might not be too late to come clean. But she was late anyway, as proven not only by the 15 bucks that left her wallet (for the second time this month) but by-

"Aggieeeee! You're better! Have you taaaasted this? It's amaziiiing!"

Agatha glares at Chaddick, who has the decency to look away. He knew the amount of alcohol Sophie was capable of processing, namely: none.

"Yeah, I have…"

"You should have seen, Sophie; the other night Agatha was so wasted she ma…"

"Chaddick, don't you have somewhere to be? As in, not here?"

The ex-jock walks away with a smirk, knowing he had some nice blackmailing material on her. Could this get any more horrible?

Now what? Should she just take Sophie home? Sober her up, tell her everything then beg for forgiveness? She couldn't. Then what to do, what to do…

"Sophie, I have to tell you something, it's really important, you see…"

"Oh Aggie, I'm sure you can tell me laaaaaatteerrrr! I've been so stressed lately! Time to let it goooo! Come on, I'll even pay your first drinkkkk!"

Her friend lifted a glass of what looked and smelled like a vodka and gin disaster waiting to happen.

"Sophie, what is even that?"

"Not sure…but Chaddick told me it was good."

Agatha sighs. She should tell the truth, right here, right now, shouldn't she?

"… Alright."

And she would have if she were a better person. But to her shame, she downs five more after the first and suddenly she can't remember why she came here on the first place. Something about a guy?

(Lies, Agatha knows exactly what she is doing, but for a few more hours she gives herself the benefit of the doubt.)

Whatever, she'll just deal with it later. She hasn't said anything for the past few days, surely it can wait some more, right?

Said and done, five hours later Agatha concludes she is a horrible human being. She should just quit. Leave the job of human being for people who will not mess up. Like Hester. Hester never messes up shit. Yeah, great plan.

Sophie is knocked out cold, sleeping with her face in a table, drooling, besides said Hester, who has her usual judgy face on, glaring at the blonde woman, like she was some kind of disgusting creature.

Agatha doesn't think she could feel worse.

She should have just told Sophie the truth right away. The moment she found out Tedros was, well, Tedros. Instead she had gone along with a wedding that was sure to be a fiasco, because not only was the groom a liar and a player, but Agatha was therefore his accomplice, and her silence was probably the greatest betrayal of their entire friendship.

She picks up her phone to call a car, so she could at the very least wallow in misery at home, but before the app even loads someone snatches her phone.

Turns out she can indeed feel worse.

"We need to talk."

His voice sounds as it always does whenever she's around, half-annoyed and half-something else Agatha doesn't dare name. As usual, he looks nice. His tight shirt and tie are still in perfect place, unlike the last time she saw him here, signaling he too probably came straight from work.

"This is girl's night; you're not allowed here."

"Oh, I'm not?" Tedros mocks her, but she can tell his heart isn't truly in it. "Then please do tell me the circumstances in which I can talk to you, because you sure don't make it easy."

She is so tired. Trying to avoid him is hard enough, trying to avoid him knowing that she doesn't really want to is impossible. She has always read people so well, and he always seems so genuine. It makes her wanna believe he is not the bad person she knows he is.

"…I've been… avoiding you. It's not that I don't want to talk to you. Is just… that I shouldn't," she hesitates but ends up answering honestly.

Tedros' expression softens at her candor, peering at her with concern.

"Are you drunk?"

"No. Maybe."

He sighs, then digs his car keys from his pocket, still holding her phone hostage on his other hand.

"Look, I'll give you a ride home. I really just wanna talk. We have…unfinished business."

Agatha considers. All this wedding-baloney made her poor, Tedros is so pretty, he looks so wholesome and honest, and she just wants to sulk at home for the next few hours. Maybe he could stay for a day or two. That shirt of his would look great on her floor…

No, bad idea.

"I don't wanna get into a stranger's car," she blurts out the first excuse her mind can manage. In retrospect, that was some obvious bullshit, seeing as they had talked for hours last week and he had already given her a ride before. Granted, it had been Sophie's car and Sophie had been there, but still, that didn't make much sense.

"Oh truly?" he holds up her phone, the ride app now open, "You're gonna pull that one on me?"

It's Agatha's turn to sigh.

"Okay don't go using logic on me, mister. For all I know, you could be planning on kidnapping me and selling my organs on the black market," or worse, actually talking to her.

"Can never be too careful, can we?" he looks partly amused and partly annoyed. "Look, I'm serious here, okay? I'm not going to do anything to you, we can talk to Hester on our way out, I'm sure she'll hunt me and string me up upside down at her soundproofed basement in case I even dream of harming you. Alright?" Tedros's eyes never leave her face in the twenty seconds she takes to decide, and it's really distracting, but she manages to answer:

"Okay, fine."

They talk to Hester, rather, Tedros talks to Hester while Agatha avoids her gaze shamefully. Why does Tedros know Hester? Did they ever talk during school?

Agatha doesn't know and she doesn't ask. Her gaze lingers on Sophie's drooling face and she feels her chest tighten.

The two of them walk into the parking lot awkwardly, in mortifying silence, and enter a silver Porsche. Agatha notes that it looks very out of place, since most cars belonged to employees and looked rather humble next to the silver beauty. Why was Tedros here? He came in his car, so he was not here to drink. Did Sophie tell him to pick her up? Or was he here to see Agatha?

Her heart skips at beat at the thought and she doesn't ask him any of this either.

"Nice ride," she offers instead.

"Thanks."

Tedros drives in silence, with Agatha occasionally telling him to turn on certain streets. She keeps her gaze on the empty roads, but she does catch quite a stunning sight of his profile when she forgets she's not supposed to look at him at all.

To avoid getting too in her head, she decides to turn on the radio. The song that starts playing is familiar and she guesses the radio must be on CD mode. The letters in bold red on the visor tell her she is correct, and this is indeed the song she thinks it is.

"You're into this kind of stuff?"

Tedros grips the wheel, almost defensively.

"They're really good, okay? I've been listening to them for a few years and so far, they're my favorite band. I know their sound isn't for everyone and-"

"I know."

"…It's not what most mainstream artists are doi- you what?"

Agatha blushes when she feels his incredulous gaze on her face, and it occurs her that this is the first time he looks directly at her since they got into his car. She hopes he'll attribute the redness on her cheeks to the red light they're currently stuck at and hesitates before answering, in a quiet voice, meeting his stare:

"They're my favorite band too."

"Oh."

The rest of the drive is less awkward, one would even say comfortable if not for the leftover tension. They sing along quietly to the vocalist and Agatha is sure Tedros stopped himself from doing the guitar once. Not cute, not cute, not cute.

Eventually, they get to her apartment building. She reaches over and turns off the radio, the deafening silence almost too much to bear.

Agatha tries reaching for the car door, but it's locked.

"I did tell you we needed to talk."

Usually, she'd be scared if a guy trapped her in his car in the middle of the night, but Agatha's frustration just comes back at full force and topples over anything else.

"What's to talk, you're clearly into someone else."

Tedros' eyes go big, and Agatha can't help but think he must be the world's greatest actor. Oscar nomination performance. The academy is shook-

"What? Did you, like, not hear anything I sa-"

"I'm not that kind of girl, Tedros," Agatha interrupts him firmly, "I don't hook up with anyone who's in a relationship, especially in a relationship with my best friend, no matter how stupidly short said relationship may be."

"I… Did Sophie tell you-"

"She didn't need to? You guys are engaged, and I am not going to get caught in between, okay? Please, please leave me alone. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. Don't give me rides when I'm drunk."

Suddenly, Tedros' confused expression is gone and his eyes are gleaming with what looks like joy. He looks like he might kiss her and Agatha is not sure how well her defenses will hold in case he does.

"Agatha, I think you got this all wrong, I'm not-"

"What, you have amnesia? Or, let me guess, it's your twin brother who's engaged to her?"

Tedros burst out laughing and he sounds like an angel, throwing his head back, and Agatha forgets for a second that she's mad at him. But eventually reality brings her back and she pushes him, with just enough force to get his attention.

"Leave me the fuck alone, dude."

…Asshole.

This time when she reaches for the door, it's unlocked.

She glares at him from the sidewalk one more time, before entering the building.

Agatha doesn't hear a word from him after that.

It's for the best, she tells herself. Agatha spent so much time wishing he would just go away and take these weird feelings he gives her with him that she didn't even consider that once he did go away for real, new, stronger, and even more angsty feelings would appear. She only knew him for two weeks. He wasn't even hers. She has no grieving rights.

She goes out with Sophie one more time, and now it's just the two of them. It would be the perfect time to tell her. She has no excuses. No drinking, no sickness, no Tedros-

Agatha doesn't.

Today is the day.

It's a clear summer night, which is unfair with how angsty and conflicted Agatha feels. Hollywood lied to us all, hasn't it?

Agatha is dressed in a silky blue dress Sophie chose for her. It suits her and she thinks she looks quite pretty. Someone who actually knew what they were doing did her make-up, and for once she managed to tame her hair into submission, putting it into a fancy-looking up-do youtube taught her how to do. She's wearing her best shoes and her fanciest earrings. Agatha is looking and smelling like a daydream outside the main room of the church, but her hands are shaking and she's terrified.

She's not ready. Far from it really.

The rules were simple. If you're not the bride you don't wear white, you don't overdrink, and you never, ever, under any circumstances, fall in love with the groom.

No matter if they were hot, if they smelled good, if their eyes made you feel weak at the knees, if they shared common interests with you, if their taste was impossible to forget, if they went out of their way to get your attention or if they felt like they just might be the one.

You just didn't okay?

Shit, this was messed up. Still, Agatha brought herself to breathe deeply, trying to contain her anxiety.

The ceremonialist tells her it's her cue and she's soon walking down the aisle, clutching a small bouquet of pink carnations like a lifeline, looking around the church.

The place is crowded. Their entire social circle and their grandmother seem to be here. People from their childhood neighborhood, people from school, both of Sophie's parents, her stepmother and step siblings, quite a few models and influencers and a bunch of people she had never seen, probably Tedros' friends, family and co-workers.

The flowers and decorations look as amazing and beautiful as she would have expected from Sophie and she might have seen Hester, Anadil and Dot on a row somewhere, but that's not what made her almost freeze, nearly stumbling on the red carpet.

The groom.

He's wearing an expensive-looking white tuxedo, his hair is an unnatural platinum blonde and his eyes are disturbingly intense. He's tall, sharp and everything about him screams fancy. He's attractive in the way some snakes are attractive, beautiful and deadly, but the big deal is:

Agatha has never seen that man in her entire life.

She goes to her spot standing by the side, her brain running a marathon, tons of data just being tossed aimlessly on her mind as she tries to wrap her head around what the actual fuck is going on when her eyes meet someone else's.

Seating on the third row on the left, Tedros' blue eyes are shinning in complete and absolute amusement, his hand is over his mouth in a barely controlled laugh. The music seems to be on his side, because no one hears him. Agatha schools her expression into anything other than the overbearing wrath she feels, but she's not sure if she's doing a good job.

She's somewhat aware of the chaos that seems to be unfolding around her; the ceremonialist's screeching, the groom's rage, the crowd's confused mumbling and Sophie's absence. But it does not matter.

Agatha really wants to choke Tedros with his tie.

Turns out, Sophie's groom was named Rafal. Not that Agatha would remember his name a few days from now.

He is the current CEO of Two Brothers, a huge company, often associated with the mafia for fucks sake. Known playboy and womanizer, with a criminal record for drug dealing, as well as physical and sexual assault. Also, partially involved on the illegal leaks of information that caused the media scandal around Tedros' parents' divorce all those years ago, she later learns.

Great guy, Sophie. 10/10. Husband material right there.

At least she didn't follow through, Agatha argues to try and calm herself down. Oh yeah, Sophie ran away from her own wedding. No one was surprised honestly. Maybe Rafal. He looked very, very angry. Agatha didn't really blame him, after knowing that he was the one paying for the wedding, after party and honeymoon, no matter how horrible of a person he seems to be.

By now, Sophie should be in Paris, enjoying her honeymoon tickets and reservations. Through text, she tells Agatha how lonely and sad she is and how she'll tell her everything that happened in complete details on their next café meeting in a about month and a half. Agatha suspects she is not as lonely as she claims to be because Hort's Instagram stories tell her he is currently in Europe as well, if not in Paris. But then again, she will not concern herself over this matter. "No wedding" was good news enough to keep her in a great mood for any of Sophie's shenanigans for the next following weeks.

And since the reception was already paid for, everyone just decided to come enjoy it.

Yes, when she says everyone, she means everyone.

"Hey, you."

Oh, Lord, no.

Agatha doesn't lift her head to look at him, continuing to type a half-assed reply to Sophie's whiny texts. She won't give him the satisfaction. Instead she downs whatever is left of her whisky, because that's what one does when courage lacks.

She's sitting at the main table of the ballroom, by herself, mostly because it's where she's been assigned to sit, but also because she's not up for the questions the other guests will probably feel entitled to ask if she were to sit with them. Hester is nowhere in sight, but Agatha is sure she's making herself scarce on purpose. She saw Chaddick back at the church but they politely ignored each other and Dot had been missing for quite a while.

"Not speaking to me?"

"No."

"Come on, it was pretty funny."

"No, it wasn't," she finally looks up at him and he must have sensed true resentment in her perfectly lined brown eyes, because his smug, perfect façade crumbled, and he looked very awkward suddenly. Tedros pulls up the chair beside her and she notices it has his name on it. Sophie was not being subtle on her matchmaking at all, was she?

God, Agatha was so dumb.

"Well, it wasn't very funny to me either then, but I do laugh quite a bit now," he offers, sipping on champagne, trying to keep busy.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you," she's quiet for few seconds, considering what she's going to say. "Tedros?"

"Yeah?" he looks up from his flute of champagne, hopeful blue eyes shining in the half light of the candlelit ballroom and keeping her from saying what she was actually going to say, so instead she blurts:

"I'm not sorry for punching you."

"I didn't expect you to be," his smile is friendly and contagious. He downs the last of his champagne and extends a hand to her. "Okay, let's start again. I'm Tedros, I'm so single it hurts, and when we were in high school, I had a crush on you."

The way he says this so openly, his voice so even and clear nearly drowns out the vulnerable look on his face. Agatha herself can barely register his expression because she's pretty sure her brain has short-circuited. Again.

"No, you did not."

"But I did."

Tedros proceeds to tell her all sorts of things.

He tells her about how he first saw her as a rival because of her grades (she never really paid any attention to the scoreboard, she thought it was bullshit, but in retrospect she does remembers his name was always under hers), and about how sorry he was that he laughed and partook at Chaddick's antics during junior year, mostly because he the felt like 'the new guy with a big name and no friends' and felt she was a threat.

"That's some real introspection and self-awareness right there, hm"

"I'm just fortunate enough to have had a really good therapist," Tedros responds, "Merlin is like a psychology-wizard. He was the one who kinda sorted out that maybe part of my teen angst was repressed attraction to someone who fed the cats behind the library"

"Oh, then you've been my stalker for quite some time then."

Tedros blushes and Agatha is both flattered and embarrassed at the same time.

He then explains about how shit blew up on his face during his parents' divorce, how his grades dropped, how he got kicked out of the football team and how he started to spend a long ass time sulking at the library. Which just so happened to be Agatha's favorite hangout spot at the time. Tedros tells her how he thought she was cute, how she was one of the people who hadn't changed with him (even if unintentionally) and how he wanted to get to know her.

What.

"I just… wasn't sure how to approach you? I always dragged Chaddick to your tea shop when I didn't see you at the library but then chickened out and-"

"...I take neither of you were huge tea fans?"

"Yeah?"

"That does explain a lot," Agatha mumbles.

"I was going to talk to you about Avalon when I heard you were going there, but… Since you didn't tell me that, I kinda found out when Chaddick took your math notebook to be my 'wingman', I didn't think you would have…appreciated.

"Wait, that was Chaddick playing your wingman?" Agatha burst out laughing.

"The plan was that I was supposed to casually hand back to you something you forgot, but he kinda grew tired of waiting for you to actually forget something," Tedros chuckled. "If you thought Chaddick was bad then what big word is Miss-best-in-class going to use to describe Sophie's take on playing wingwoman?"

"Horrendous," Agatha deadpans and now it's Tedros turn to laugh.

Silence sits between the two. It's not uncomfortable and kinda welcome. Agatha digests the last forty minutes of enlighting conversation as they eat the main course of the night. A waiter comes to pick up both of their plates and she decides she still has some questions.

"Well, do you still do?"

"Do I still what?" Tedros questions, his head slightly inclined, like a confused puppy.

"Have a crush on me," Agatha mumbles, her cheeks burning.

Tedros' expression goes from 'confused' back to that mischievous look he had back at the church, leaning towards her ever so slightly.

"Maybe."

"Good," she offers her hand, as he had before, "I'm Agatha, I jump to conclusions, but I am very interested in getting to know you."

Tedros however, doesn't shake her hand as she had his. Instead, he takes it to his lips, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles, relishing in the shocked look on her face before she can school her expression back to unaffected aloofness.

"Are you free at six next friday?"

"Late meeting, but I'm good at seven. Pick me up?" she asks, an unspoken challenge laced in her words.

"As the lady wishes." Challenge accepted. "Any preferences?"

"Anywhere but 'The Woods'. But make sure to text me first if it's somewhere fancy," she smiles. "You know what? I still don't have your number."

Tedros confidently stands up, his hand yet to release hers.

"A number for a dance?"

Agatha told him that night at 'The Woods' that she isn't a very good dancer but again, he insists. It's fine, because they don't dance for long anyway. By the time Tedros gives up, fumbling with his phone to call a car, his hair is already a mess, Agatha's broke free from her up-do and there is lipstick everywhere.

I'm not sorry This was so much fun to revisit. I forgot how fun SGE was. I kinda fell out of touch with the series. I did read QFG, I just can't remember what happens in it? Idk. I felt the series should have concluded on TLEA. If possible before the whole Agatha and Sophie baloney stunt, because I never bought that. Please leave me comment and share your thoughts with me! Hope you are all safe during this quarantine, friends

#Tagatha #tagathashipweek2016 #rewrite #agatha sge #Agatha of Woods Beyond #tedros sge #tedros of camelot #sophie sge #sge #The School for Good and Evil

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believerindaydreams · 5 years

Text

the one that happens after the Baker one

"We're going to be okay," Tuco promises Angel Eyes, as he shuts and locks the broom cupboard. Wishes he had a name to call the man, that wouldn't sound so stupid to say aloud in public.

(trigger warnings: in which various racist comments are made, and Tuco is bratty and unwoke on the subject of feminism.)

He ought to have known better than taking Angel to such a questionable joint- but a part of him had already been itching to get back to a place like this, sizzling neon lights and watered beer, girls who'll spit in your eye once they notice who you're with and why. Living at the hacienda's so safe. And Angel had been the one to suggest it.

"Blondie told me stories. But countrified, prettied up for my benefit-" this with a sardonic look in his eye, the one Tuco used to think was bitter but has since decided is Angel's idea of humour. "I wouldn't mind getting a notion of what the scene looks like to you."

"You promise not to talk too much?" Anybody else, he'd be on pins and needles, ready to cringe at an overplayed hand (it's different for him, that's the whole shtick). But by now they've gotten to know each other; Tuco has a rather definite idea that if he told Angel to shut up, he'd actually shut up. At least in this particular context.

"Easily done. Lay out any ground rules that make sense to you."

Simple as that, eh? "If I say we leave, we go and no argument. Let me take the lead unless some damn cowboy decides that beating me to a pulp sounds like a fun Friday night out, then you do whatever makes sense. Even if that's just leaving, I don't want to look after somebody in a fight when they don't want to be there. And since it's your idea," Tuco had said, drawing just enough irony into his voice- "I'll let you stake us out for it."

"Fine," Angel had said. Before adding, "Anything you win, keep for yourself."

Now that's where the trouble had come in.

Being so broke they'd started dipping into the stake for tequila money, that had not been a good state of affairs. Not that the best room and board he's had since leaving Brooklyn is anything to sneeze at- who's he kidding, the hacienda's way better than that rusty tenement. But there hasn't been a word about the green stuff since meeting Angel, and while that's strangely reassuring, it also worries him what'll happen if the bubble bursts. (How the hell is Blondie managing alone, with only half their cash? Maybe his partner will come back when he gets hungry enough).

Tuco knows better than to stare and lick his lips, watching Angel count out enough money to keep him and his partner for months- but the notion crosses his mind, to just grab the cash and run. Not gonna happen. It's a bank, and there's such a thing as cops, and he could confidently set his life expectancy at three days pus or minus a couple, after a play like that. Doesn't stop him thinking about it. It's a free country.

"We're not doing the hustle, obviously," he explains once they're on the street. "I only do it with Blondie, and anyway we'd have to split up for that. And I'm not dressed for it."

In lieu of his usual eye-catching gear, he's plumped for the skirt-chasing outfit: khaki pants and matching drip-dry jacket and a shirt with just two colours in it, something Angel's been giving him weird looks for ever since they left the house. It's slightly uncomfortable, wearing it for a night like this. Somebody who looks too crazy to fuck doesn't have to worry about anybody trying. Not like Blondie, fending off the offers with a stick whenever people notice he's pretty.

(In a way he's always been jealous of that. But also, it'd just be another problem, make him more vulnerable than he is already, and he'd just as soon give that a miss.)

"Then what did you dress for?" Angel asks.

"A few drinks, a few hands of poker, nothing too messy- I guess you're not looking for a girl at the end of the night, huh? So we won't do this by the book."

"Certain companionship wouldn't necessarily go amiss," Angel Eyes says, taking him by the hand. Thin white gloves for a change, suitable for cardplay, and he's guessed that someone must be getting fairly horny in his partner's absence, but this is almost comical. By Angel's usual standards, they’re practically fucking in the street. He should have gone with that blue-toned Hawaiian shirt after all.

Then again, Baker finally getting the hint and going yesterday means that he's fresh out of options again. And deprivation always gives him an appetite.

"...see how the night goes," Tuco mutters, in a deniable fashion; and then takes his hand away because there are about fifteen good reasons for them not to be seen like this. "And we'll have a few drinks, like I said."

"I don't often drink in public," Angel Eyes says. There's a vibe of transgression there, that he would expect, but maybe not with that much wryness to it. As though it's a private joke instead of a statement of fact.

"Why, you want people to think you're on the wagon?" Plenty of good reasons for that. He's done it himself with girls a couple times, if he hasn't ordered yet and it looks like that'll impress them. "I know you're not a teetotaler, with all the red wine that goes into your soups."

"Believe it or not, the way I cook them burns the alcohol content off. There's no risk of intoxication from my venison stew, I can assure you."

"Oh. That's a little disappointing, I thought it made it more fun...well, if you don't want to, you don't want to. I can fix you up, there's a couple tricks so nobody will know the difference."

"Just the one...shouldn't hurt. No."

Cue a sudden warmth washing through his gut. The tense, attractive quality of that rueful craving- somebody who knows better, not even trying to resist temptation- that doesn't sound like buttoned-up Angel Eyes one little bit, that sounds like him. Or somebody who's been listening to him an awful lot, the last couple months.

Skirt-chasing gear, yes. The clothes he wants other people to see him in, when he wants to fuck them. Damn his instincts.

And damn you too, Blondie. I hope you get back soon...

Which had been the last thought he'd spared for his partner that whole evening, two bars and three nightclubs and a few hands of poker. That he thinks had gone a little better than usual, without having to juggle the hustle and betting and trying not to drool over Blondie looking zesty, although Angel Eyes proves more of a distraction there than he'd like to think. Angel’s certainly never going to cut it as a cardsharp; he’d easily been the weakest player during that Carson foursome, and calling his playing tonight desultory might be kind. Too busy staring at the room, like a wet-behind-the-ears tourist.

Him ordering the expensive mixed drinks, the ones he'd never had the money to risk trying before. Angel had held off for a while, until they'd accidentally landed up somewhere halfway clean, with a bartender willing to open a new bottle of whisky on request, and had downed the shot in one.

That had been a good two hours ago, but if Angel's not drunk enough to be desperate now, Tuco's at a loss for what's wrong with the man. The moment there’d been a crash on the door downstairs, Angel had grabbed him and made for an exit as though he’d be rehearsing.

"Look, these police raids happen all the time. They round you up, you're in the slammer for a night, all a man like you has to do is pay bail and get out." He glances at the door again. Sooner or later somebody's going to look in here and then they're going to be in for it.

"I am not going to let anyone take me anywhere," Angel says, flipping a gun out from somewhere under his coat. No doubt it's loaded. Tuco's positive he knows how to use it.

"You said you'd listen to me, huh? You gonna break a promise? Right now it's just a raid. The cops shove some people around a bit, somebody gets beaten up, they'll survive that. You start shooting, they start shooting, people end up dead. And I'm the kind of guy who's ready made for a target."

"If I have to, I'll use it," Angel says stubbornly; but he shoves the gun in his pocket, and actions always matter more with him. "I can't afford a run-in like that."

"Okay. I said to trust me, I'll get you out of this."

His mind's been working on it, while his mouth's been busy; there's shelves of cleaning products, buckets, a mop cart. Too bad he didn't bring his Duluth- damn it, this is exactly what's wrong with wearing something too stylish to pair with a canoe pack. "You see any rubbing alcohol?"

Wordlessly, Angel takes a bottle down from a high shelf, wraps his fingers around it when they won't cooperate. It occurs to Tuco he might be drunker than he realised.

But the basic idea's solid, he just has to make it work. "Now- um. We take everything off the cart, put it back on the shelf, you hide inside under the tablecloths. Pour some alcohol on me, I'm going to be drunk."

"You are drunk."

"I know, I want to look it. Make me messy."

There's something much too sexy and familiar at once, about the way Angel Eyes almost chokes in disbelief- Blondie ought to know better but still does the same thing, when he's caught off guard. There's something even worse about how fast Angel intuits what he wants, mussing up his hair but good and trickling alcohol down his shirt and adding an artistic scruff of dust to his collar. Fuck it, he's getting a hard-on like nobody's business. Tight pants too, that's not going to help.

"If I were a janitor," Tuco says, with what he's aware is a slightly exaggerated dignity.

Glances around, paws hopefully at the ventilation duct. Out comes- yes! a beat-up but serviceable edition of Playboy, two of them in fact, and it's not quite what he had in mind but maybe the detail will sell it even better. "Now Angel, you hide yourself in the cart, and for the love of- of somebody or other, don't sneeze."

"You're sure you know what you're doing."

"I better be sure, or with a trigger-happy idiot like you I'm dead. Get movin'," and the last sentence sort of slurs into a yawn, but Angel must get the idea because he disappears from sight.

Now all he has left to do is dab on alcohol like a 'specally good cologne, arrange the magazines in a convincing position and fall asleep on top of the cart, his legs dangling down. Easy.

So easy, in fact, that the next thing he knows is a click of a door unlocking. He snuffles noisily, inches his position slightly so his face lies against the cart's hard plastic; it's easier to fake sleep that way. His breathing's nice and loud when the door opens.

"Hey, you. You work here?"

He keeps snuffling away, happily enough. Two cops, maybe? Not more than that but there must be more around within earshot.

"I guess this idiot's been snoring his way through the whole raid. Stole a magazine to look at the dirty pictures- well, he probably can't read."

"Lusting after them white women," somebody else says, in a mock high-pitched tone. "All right, get him cuffed and bring him down to the station, we're done here."

"Fine. Wake up, you-" at least he's not being handled too harshly, the cop doesn't seem to want to touch him. He sits up after a bare minimum of shoving.

"What's your name, bud?"

"Janitor! Janitor- comprehende? Americano," Tuco says with considerable eagerness, and offers up his stupidest smile. It's one he's practiced in mirrors. "No speaka English."

"Oh christ, you're one of those...."

They take him out to a squad car, him blathering cheerful Spanish for every step; shove him inside. Could be worse, Tuco figures; he's done Angel Eyes enough of a favour that he can probably count on a bailout. He listens to the engine start up with no small satisfaction.

He's just settling against the seat to recommence that nap, when a familiar voice pipes up.

"All right. If you're here, where's Angel?"

"Baker?"

"One and the same. Now think about that question very carefully, because if you don't have an answer by the time I round this corner, you won't live long enough to worry about getting arrested."

"Back inside," Tuco says immediately. "I left him in a broom cupboard."

"Right. We're going back to get him."

"...so, you were a cop all along?"

"Good lord, no," Baker says. "I'm only borrowing this squad car. We'll use mine for the real escape."

The fact that they get away with the operation scot-free says more about the damn improbability of anyone stealing a police car and then giving it back inside of two minutes than Baker's street smarts, Tuco figures.

************

"You were following me," Angel says, once they're back at the house. He looks dead on his feet and Tuco doesn't blame him. "Baker, if you ever do anything like that again, I will-"

"You'll what?" Baker asks, in a jaunty, top-of-the-world fashion. His enthusiasm fades at Angel's frozen glare; Tuco finds himself watching the interplay with genuine curiosity.

Angel turns his head, glances at him. "I will never go on a hunting trip with you again. Ever. Understood?"

"Angel, you wouldn't- would he?"

Now they're both staring at him. "Yes. I think he would," Tuco says.

"Okay, okay! I promise. But you have to admit, I came in handy."

"You were not, and I don't owe you a damned thing. You're needlessly theatrical, it's going to get you killed one of these days, and as for Tuco, my partner and I had it under control."

(He doesn't like the notion, that he might be claimed as anyone else's partner; but he does enjoy the way the words make Baker droop in his tracks.)

"...understood."

"Good," Angel says, casually wiping his knife clean on the cuff of his shirt. "Now go away. Don’t call me, I’ll call you."

"I still say you need a better bodyguard."

"I'll take your opinion under advisement."

"You really are awfully happy together, eh?" Baker asks. "Well. I guess I'd better just go and tell that sweet Blondie he ought to take up with me, since it looks like you two won't be needing him any time soon..."

Tuco eyes Angel; Angel eyes him back.

Baker's bluffing.

He doesn't know what brought Angel to that conclusion, but to him it's obvious enough- Blondie's pushing up their value a little, reminding Angel the two of them have other options. They know each other well enough to trust the other's play, even at a remove.

It's a smart thing his partner's doing, a good move. Maybe he wouldn't have thought so this morning, but that'd been before realising he was still this desperate, that the mere chance to grab a little hard cash had made him stupid enough to stick around in a place long after his instincts had told him to leave. If they'd been smart and kept moving, they never would have been at risk in that raid in the first place.

Then again, he wouldn't have found out that Angel is a gun-happy maniac, and that's worth knowing. And Blondie's coming back. He's bound to.

"Give him my best regards," Angel Eyes says, languidly. "He's welcome to a bowl of soup here whenever he likes."

Tuco opens his mouth. Shuts it again. Years of habit are strong; they don't tell people they're partners, or the whole hustle doesn't work...so he'd better not say anything. Blondie's the one who's always the most worried about secrecy, anyway.

"I'll let him know," Baker says.

He looks rather hurt when he goes.

***************

"Here, you'd better take this back," Tuco says at dinner, pulling the remains of Angel's stake from his pocket. So much for turning a profit; he'd blown through it rather freely, what with drinks and tips and prairie oysters.

"You might keep it for next time," Angel says, in a distinctly abstracted way. Twice already, he's dipped the spoon into his coffee cup instead of his soup bowl, sipped it without apparently noticing the change in flavour.

"No, no." If this is the way Blondie wants to play it, this is the way they'll play it.

Though it proves an awfully hard thing, to sleep alone that night.

#70s au #the good the bad and the ugly

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mydadisindianajones · 6 years

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A post no one asked for on Dragon Age 4 and why Cole will be a companion

This is a thought that has rattled around in my head for a good while and I want to get it down on paper (or blog? I guess? Whatever) before any actual details of the game get out. Yes, I want to be that person who goes “Hah! I knew it!” In case this all isn’t correct... I was never here. *Waves hand* I promise this will be short.

Edit: lol jk its now a TEDtalk. Enjoy this meta.

Every installment of Dragon age, all three main titles and the Awakening DLC share something in common: A reoccuring companion from the last game.

Oghren: In Awakening we had Oghren join the Wardens after Origins.

Anders: In Dragon Age 2 we had Anders become a companion of Hawke after he left the Wardens in Awakening.

Varric: In Inquisition we had Varric join the Inquisitor after he left Kirkwall from Dragon Age 2.

So why Cole above everyone else? Looking at patterns again no returning companion was romanceable in their first installment. If we are going by that then it rules out Iron Bull, Blackwall, Sera, Dorian, Solas, and Cassandra. Story wise I do not think we will see Cassandra again other than maybe a fleeting quest like Zevran in DA2 or maybe just a fleeting message.

Iron Bull and Blackwall are killable, so I doubt we will see them at all for continuity sake. “What about Leliana?” I hear you all thinking. Yes, Leliana’s death was explained away as she is some sort of Force Ghost, but that brought up quite the mini controversy at the time and I doubt EA will do it again.

Well how about Dorian? It is all but confirmed that DA4 will set place in Tevinter, or at least close to it. With Dorian in the position he is in the Magisterium I think at most he will play an advisory role must like Leliana did in DA:I.

Solas is going to be too busy enjoying my stolen Godtier wolf armor and being the head-shoved-up-ass antagonist.

Now lets touch on the two characters who were not romanceable: Varric and Vivienne.

Varric was already in two games, so I think they’re going to officially retire him.

Vivienne has a sliver of a chance, but I would bet my bank account that she will not be a companion, which leads me into my next set of points: They’re too important.

Vivienne: No matter the outcome of your playthrough Viv will be way too busy being important. There are two ways she can go: Either she will become the next Divine as Divine Victoria, or Grand Enchanter of the Circle of Magi. Vivienne will be too busy realizing her plans and ambition to personally deal with any outside nation. However that doesn’t mean she won’t be a key political figure in the game, as she is always trying to stay one step ahead of her peers. We will see her, just not as a companion.

Dorian: He has taken his father’s place in the Magisterium and is the leader of a Tevinter reformation group. I’m like 95% certain we will see him in some capacity, but not as a companion.

Varric: Yet again he has reached his max capacity for games, but he is also now the Viscount of Kirkwall. Like Viv we may just see him in name only, doing something through his agents.

Cassandra: The Seeker can go down many roads. Just like Viv she can become Divine Victoria. If you decide to restore the Seeker order she will spend time post Trespasser working with them. If you do not make her Divine she will stick by the Divine’s side as her Right Hand, temporarily with Viv and for a good amount of time with Leliana.

Now for the not-so-important people:

Iron Bull: His is tricky because his end can be split in SO many ways. If you don’t kill the Chargers his mercenary group still run around Orlais and Ferelden kicking ass. If you do sacrifice them or don’t do his personal quest he turns on you in Trespasser, ultimately making him loyal to the Ben-Hassrath. In the end Iron Bull’s fate is split in so many different ways that it would be difficult, near impossible, to bring him back as a companion.

Blackwall: You have a chance to allow him to be executed, taking him completely out of the game. If you spare him during his judgement you can either hand him over to the Wardens and put him through the Joining, exile him, or keep him around work for his atonement. If he becomes an actual Warden he is sent away at the end of Trespasser Blackwall goes to Weisshaupt. If you forgive him he ends up traveling Thedas to find his lost men and seek their forgiveness. If you don’t find out about his past he turns himself in six months after the main quest line is done and his fate is unknown. So as you can see he suffers the same fate as Iron Bull, as in there are too many possibilities to successfully write him well as a companion in the new game.

Sera: Sera is the only companion I can envision coming in as second place to become a companion in DA4, for multiple reasons. I’ll get to those later though. In Sera’s ending she goes back to being a Red Jenny whether you romance her or not. If you don’t romance her she is seen in a relationship with Dagna.

You mentioned Sera possibly becoming a companion.

Well yes, I did. Let me explain: I think Sera is actually going to become a big player in the endgame, as unassuming as she is. There is a theory floating around that Sera is actually the Elven goddess Andruil. (Click the link for further reading. It’s REALLY good) I’m a full fledged tin foil hat fan of this one, along with the idea that Sandal is actually June, Elven god of the craft. So I think if anyone other than Cole is a companion it’s going to be her.

However while I do think she is going to be in the game I don’t think she will be a companion. She has little to no interest in the dealings of Tevinter or any other big wars. Sera enjoys her little world with her friends, and would not be the type to take up another crusade, especially after what she endured in Inquisition. No more weird shit, just pranking rich people and being a Red Jenny.

Now why and how do I think Cole will be a companion?

At the end of Trespasser if you make Cole human he gets his first girlfriend and goes with her becoming a traveling minstrel. If you make him a spirit he ventures back to the Fade as he feels his work is done. Now if he is made a human I think he can fit well into being reintroduced as a companion. Either his relationship with Marydon ceases naturally or she dies at the hands of [antagonistic enemies] and he vows to seek retribution. Honestly Marydon isn’t very important, as she can end up with Krem or Zither if you make him a spirit. So her ending doesn’t matter and I don’t think she’d show up in DA4.

If he becomes more spirit I can see him coming back for the sole purpose of stopping Solas, since he can see what the trickster god is doing or going to do. An easy way to write him is to make exposure to the world again causes him to become more human. I know that would render the choices of a lot of players invalid, but c’mon this is Bioware we have seen this happen before.

Another question: Would he be romanceable? Ehhhhh it can go either way. Seeing as human Cole enters a relationship at the end of Trespasser the writers are showing us that he is at least interested in romance. As we already know Anders was the only recurring companion who had a romance, so like I said it could go either way. Would I personally like to see it? Sure, why not. I think it would be an interesting dynamic to see how he as a spirit would deal with love and possible carnal desires. As we’ve seen before spirits can engage in such activities:

Blackwall: Sera and I were just talking about you. We need you to settle a question for us.

Solas: *Sigh* Sera’s involved? So this question will be offensive.

Blackwall: Yes. Probably. Sorry. You made friends with Spirits in the fade. So... um, are there any that are more than just friends? If you know what I mean.

Solas: Oh for... really?

Blackwall: Look, it’s a natural thing to be curious about!

Solas: For a twelve year old!

Blackwall: It’s a simple yes or no question!

Solas: Nothing about the Fade or Spirits is simple. Especially not that.

Blackwall: Aha! So you do have experience in these matters!

Solas: I did not say that.

Blackwall: Don’t panic, it’ll be our little secret.

Solas: Ass.

Blackwall: Now who’s twelve?

According to Solas, if we read between the lines, is that Fade Spirits can engage in such things. I’m sure it’s not as simple as people on Thedas think it, but things can transpire to a degree.

All in all I think Cole, out of any other companion from Inquisition, has the highest chance of showing up as a companion in Dragon Age 4. (I’m bad at endings bye)

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finn-nelson-for-the-win · 7 years

Text

Before the World Stops Turning: Pt.3

Hello again! I’ve spent the last week doing A LOT of writing because for whatever reason my Uni classes haven’t been as time consuming, so I decided to make the most of my lack of social life and just write the next 5 or so chapters of this fic so they’ll be ready to edit and post even once I begin to get busy again…Anyways, this chapter is a little boring, but it explains a couple things and acts as a short transition chapter to get to some more fun stuff in the next chapters.

If you’d like to be added/removed from my tags list, don’t hesitate to let me know!

Everything I’ve written can be found right here!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! (As always, additional notes and random commentary I have will be at the end beneath the tags)

Rae and Izzie had spent a few hours at the café the previous night eating, recapping the highlights of the concert, and posting some of the better pictures that had been taken using both of their phones to Izzie’s social media accounts.

By the time Rae made it back to her apartment in the taxi that Izzie and her had split, it was already in the early hours of the morning and Rae’s exhaustion had caught up to her so much so that she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow when she got in bed.

It could not have been more than a few hours later when Rae was awoken by the bright morning sun streaming in through her partially open curtains and the sound of her phone buzzing violently on her bedside table.

Who the fuck would be trying to video call me right now?!?

“Uh, yes, hello?” Rae replied when she answered the video call without checking to see who it was that was calling her at such an early time.

“Rae-Rae! I’m so glad you’re awake! I didn’t wake you, did I?” Izzie replied with a cheerful smile.

“Uh, ‘course not, Izz…” Rae replied, her voice still thick with sleep, as she rubbed her eyes slightly to finish waking up.

“Wonderful! So you’ll never guess how many social media notifications I woke up to when I checked my phone a little while before I called you…”

“Oh really? I bet your friends that bailed on going to the concert with you are ruing the day, huh?” Rae replied as she sat up in her bed with a pillow propped up behind her back to get into a more comfortable position.

“Probably, yeah, but even better than that…So you know how I posted all the concert photos online last night, yeah? And you know how I tagged the bands and band members that were in the pictures? Well…” Izzie smirked and paused for dramatic effect, causing Rae to chuckle.

“C’mon Izz! You can’t keep me in suspense like this…you simply must tell me everything,” Rae replied with a teasing edge to her voice.

“Hey now! The sass is unnecessary, but I’m a good friend, so I will tell you the rest of the story…so this morning I woke up to see notifications on my phone saying that a couple members of Kings and Queens liked and shared the group photo I posted of all of us!”

“Oh, that’s wonderful, Izzie! I’m so happy for you!” Rae replied in complete sincerity because she could tell how excited her mate truly was

“Oh that’s not all…I also saw that I was followed by the Kings and Queens Band account as well as one of the band members! Isn’t that so exciting, Rae? I simply had to call you and I felt this warranted a video call instead of a boring old phone call…I also had a question to ask you…”

“Yeah, that’s so great, Izz! They were all really nice guys, so it’s no surprise that they like to interact with fans like this…What did you want to ask me?”

“Do you remember how many band members were in Kings and Queens, Rae?”

“Uhm, maybe five? Lead singer, drummer, bassist, and two guitar players I think…so yeah, five! Why do you ask?”

“Huh, that’s what I thought…it’s not a big deal, but I was looking at the group photo that we took that I posted online and only see four band members and I wasn’t sure who could be missing. I’m pretty sure everyone was there when we posed for the picture…” Izzie replied, her eyebrows knitting together slightly in confusion.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure everyone made it in…wait a second! Maybe not…There was one guy that was busy and rushed in at the last second, but I’m not sure if he made it into the picture.”

Rae powered up her laptop and brought up Izzie’s account where that picture—along with about a dozen others—was posted and zoomed into the photo to get a closer look.

Izzie sat waiting patiently for Rae to speak after taking another look at the photo, but she was soon caught off-guard when Rae laughed aloud suddenly.

“Holy shit, Izz! Take a look at this! You’re right—well sort of…the photo we took has all band members, but it technically only has three fingers from the fifth band member on the far side of the frame.”

Rae turned the camera of her phone to show the group photo that she been looking at on her laptop and began to show Izzie what she meant.

“As you can see, there’s the two of us and Chop next to me…there’s two guys back behind the three of us…and on Chop’s other side is one of the other band members, but if you look very closely at this fourth guy’s shoulder, you can see three fingers and someone’s hand resting on his shoulder!”

“Okay, I think I see that…but are you sure it’s not someone else’s hand though?”

“That’s what I thought at first too, but the angle that the hand is resting on his shoulder makes it seem like there had to be another person standing just outside the frame of the photo!”

“That’s so funny, Rae! I wonder which of them got left out…”

“Huh, yeah…do you remember who was who? Or what was the name of the band member that followed you after you posted the pictures online, Izz? Maybe we can figure it out like that.”

“Uh, okay…well I know that the one with the glasses next to Chop is named Archie. I’ve been following him on social media since I first found out about the band a while back. I think the taller guy in the back is named Alex…and I’m pretty sure the guy with the drumsticks next to Alex is the drummer, Danny…I don’t remember who else could have been left out…”

“Okay, well that’s four of five band members. Did any of them follow you on social media?” Rae asked as she tried to recall the names of the different band members that Chop had told them when he introduced her and Izzie to everyone in the band mere hours ago.

“Uh, no, actually! The guy who followed me is someone called ‘Finn Nelson’…huh, I guess that settles it! Finn is our three-fingered mystery boy!”

“Mystery solved! I knew we’d be able to figure this out!” Rae called triumphantly before shifting her attention to her mat that seemed to be engrossed in whatever she was currently doing on her phone.

“Dear lord, Rae…I’m looking through our mystery boy’s profile and he’s great…there’s a lot of cool sunset and photography-type posts, but the few selfies and band promos where you can see him…wow,” Izzie replied looking away from her phone only for a brief moment to make sure that Rae was still paying attention before continuing, “it’s a shame all you can see of him in our group photo are his fingers because he is proper fit!”

“Oh is he, now? I thought you had a thing for a certain lead singer of Kings and Queens, Izz…”

“I do still like Chop…he’s quirky…but this lad? Holy shit, Rae, he’s perfect for you!” Izzie replied giving Rae a suggestive smirk and eyebrow raise.

“Uh huh…well, I guess I’m just going to have to take your word for it, Izzie!”

***

It had been nearly a month since Rae had first agreed to accompany Izzie to a concert in the city in which four bands she had never heard of were performing at a local bar, but in that time, Rae’s interest in the bands that they had seen had only continued to grow.

Upon Izzie’s insistence, Rae had even borrowed the Kings and Queens CD Izzie had purchased after the show and Rae spent a week listening to the album end-to-end. By the time she returned the CD to her mate, she had familiarized herself with most of the songs and had chosen her favorites.

“So Izzie, how have you been as of late? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” Rae playfully whined during one of her weekly Thursday lunch dates with Izzie when they both happened to have a break in their schedules to hang out for a few hours.

“It’s only been about a week and a half since I last saw you, Rae! Remember when we had the movie night at your apartment and you returned my Kings and Queens CD to me that you had borrowed?” Izzie replied as she lifted the sandwich she had ordered from her plate and took a large bite.

“Has it really been that long?” Rae replied with a chuckle as she used her fork to stab a cherry tomato from her salad and brought it to her mouth.

“Oh, that reminds me! Did you see that Kings and Queens announced that they’re playing a show at the same bar we saw them last time in a couple weeks?”

“No, I didn’t see that! Where did you find that out? I’m pretty sure I’d remember if they had posted something on the band page…”

“Do you not follow all the individual band members as well as the main band account?”

“No, I just follow the band’s page, I think…”

“Ah, well that explains it then! I think Archie might have posted it? I’m pretty sure he mentioned that they have discounted tickets for sale too if we don’t want to pay the fees for buying the tickets online or wait to get them on the day of the show. I think we just have to let them know how many tickets we want and they’ll deliver the tickets directly to us!”

“Oh wow, that’s perfect! Do you know what day the show is? If we’re both free we should definitely go see them play again!”

“I don’t know the exact date, but I can check…So you don’t even follow Finn’s account, Rae? Why the hell not, babe?”

“Because, Izzie! I’m not going to be one of those girls that thirst follow band members and try to be a groupie at every single show! He’s just a normal person, even if he is as perfect looking as you seem to think he is!”

“Well, I suppose…wait a second…have you still not seen what he looks like yet?”

“Erm…no, I guess I haven’t…well not specifically, at least. Every time you tell me that I should check out his profile, I forget or get distracted and I’ve never gotten around to it, I guess…”

“Well then, love…prepare to be blessed by the beautiful specimen of a man that is Finn Nelson, lead guitarist of the band Kings and Queens…” Izzie said without removing her eyes from her phone as she typed and clicked rapidly before passing Rae her cellphone as if it was a sacred object that must be handled with extreme care.

“Holy fuck…”

“I know, right?”

He looks so familiar…wait a second, is that—no, it couldn’t possibly be the guy that I stumbled into before the show…could it?

“So Rae…was I right or was I right? Finn is basically a god, don’t you think?”

“Yeah…he’s definitely, uh, well…I think I know him…”

“Holy shit, really? How?”

“Well, I don’t know-know him…do you remember how when we were standing outside the bar before the concert I told you that I ran into a guy and I dropped my phone…well this is the guy I bumped into…I just don’t know how I never made that connection!”

“That’s so crazy! What a weird coincidence though…”

“No kidding! Well, I have an Abnormal Psychology class to get to right now, but it was really nice meeting you for lunch today! I’ll check when Kings and Queens are performing and maybe we can reach out to them for a pair of discounted tickets?”

“Yeah, for sure! Just let me know if you think you’ll be free and we can work out all the details.”

***

By the time Rae walked into her apartment after a busy day of classes and studying for the finals she had coming up in all her Uni courses, the sun was already mostly set and the sky was streaked with the final remnants of pinks and oranges in a mostly blue and purple backdrop.

She immediately changed into an oversized t-shirt and a pair of patterned lounge pants before sitting down at the desk in the far corner of her bedroom and powering on her laptop.

Okay, let’s take a look to see when this upcoming Kings and Queens concert is gonna be…

Rae pulled up the band’s social media profile and saw a post that was only a few hours old with a picture of the promotional poster for this particular show.

Rae: Hiya Izz! I just checked the date for the K&Q show and I’m free if you still wanna go! It’s two Fridays from now…the Friday of exam week, I think?

Izzie: YES I STILL WANT TO GO! I have a final exam that morning, but I’ll definitely be free that evening.

Rae: Great! I’ll go ahead and let them know that we want tickets so we can get the discounted price for the tickets, yeah?

Izzie: Perfect! That sounds good to me, just let me know how much I owe you for my ticket, yeah?

Rae: Will do!

Rae set her phone back down on her desk beside her laptop and went back to reading the post in which the Kings and Queens band page had announced that they were playing the show and were selling a limited number of tickets at the lowest possible prices.

Rae was debating between commenting on the post about needing tickets or sending them a private message before ultimately deciding to ask them about the tickets privately.

Hello there! I saw your post about the show you are playing at the end of the month and I saw that you have a limited number of tickets available for purchase at reduced prices. I’m interested in purchasing a pair, please…

@eveerez @tinakegg @hey1tskat1e @lurkernolonger @milllott @nutinanutshell @i-dream-of-emus @milymargot @vivammfd @bitchesbecrazy89 @arathewallflower @mallyallyandra @kneekeyta

A/N: Poor Finn :( First Rae brushes him off when he’s trying to be friendly and now we find out that he was “accidentally” cut out of the frame for the photo that they took after the first show. All I can say is you really have to be careful who you ask to take pictures for you using your phone at concerts because you never know what you’re gonna get…

So I don’t know about you guys, but I’m really enjoying what I’m dong with switching POV between what’s going on with Rae and what’s happening with Finn. I’m also making a point to have the timelines match us as much as possible from one POV to another with no overlap, so fingers crossed that I don’t end up fucking this up or making the story too hard to follow lol…

Also, how cool is it that their band is willing to sell discounted tickets to fans and deliver them to the people wanting the tickets. I know a number of people that are in local and mid-level bands where I live and this is something that they commonly do when the bands playing are lesser known or when there hasn’t been enough time for the concert to really be promoted in order to have a full crowd, so a lot of local bands will try to entice friends/family/previous fans that have seen them by offering to give them discounted tickets. I’m not sure if this is a common practice in other places too, but I think it’s pretty cool.

Writing this story is making me really miss all the concerts in sketchy bars and small venues I went to with my best friend at the time when I was 15/16/17 years old…ah, the memories *looks wistfully into the distance*

This entire thing has been super scatter-brained and confusing, but this is me we’re talking about, so what did you all really expect? Hahaha…I hope you enjoyed this chapter and the next one should be coming very soon as well…I’m still trying to decide exactly when, but I can assure you that it will be relatively soon. Stay awesome, my friends!

#Finn-Nelson-for-the-win #Before the World Stops Turning #Part 3 #mmfd #my mad fat diary #mmfd fanfic #my mad fat diary fanfiction #My writing #the concert series

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curriebelle · 7 years

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I hate it when I play a game and then I Essay instead of doing real work.

I beat BG2 and Throne of Bhaal with the Edwin romance mod installed because heck if I’m not gonna romance the snarky wizard, given the option. The whole way through I’m waffling on whether the mod is good or not, because it’s got some problems, but it’s also genuinely funny and I like both the secondary characters it introduces. And then the epilogues are just. A culmination of everything wrong and I must drag my hands down my face and write a post about how I could fix it.

1) Dear god, especially when it comes to written, selectable dialogue, brevity is the soul of wit. In the unmodded game, Edwin has an excellent vocabulary and a flair for the dramatic, but he’s actually not too verbose. He’s all pithiness over prattle. Step one: Remove about 60% of his adjectives.

2) Incidentally, that Thayan (read: Russian) accent actually inclines a listener to expect certain speech patterns and sentence structures. This isn’t a jab at people who speak with accents, by the way - far from it. But if English is your second language, you may build sentences and choose words differently. And if we hear a Russian accent, even if it’s in a fake fantasy setting, we subconsciously expect those structures. Take the canonical re-invitation dialogue in ToB:

“You have regained your senses and recognized my indispensability! This is good, this is very good.”

“This is good, this is very good” is very different from a phrase with similar meaning but a different structure, such as “Excellent! You’ve regained your senses...” etc.

The point is that if you read Edwin’s dialogue you should be able to hear it flowing in the accent his actor has chosen. This doesn’t always happen in the mod. Obviously, the easiest editing method here is to read everything aloud in a Russian accent. I’m serious. Oh and also I think it’s Thayan and not Thayvian?

3) He’s got that added-comments-in-brackets dialogue quirk, which is a wonderful tool to see inside Edwin’s head, but it does need to be used with care. It’s best for contrast, when he’s internally seething but externally trying to keep his composure. The mod takes the opposite tack and uses it for when he’s internally swooning, which I kind of love because it’s hilarious, but it could still make better use of the contrast at times. Not-as-smooth-as-he-thinks-he-is on the outside, internally hyperventilating - that’d be something to see.

4) Back on the topic of brevity - the Bhaalspawn’s responses need to be toned down about eight notches. The player needs more space to project himself or herself onto the PC. More than once, the lengthy, detailed responses made me cringe, and I didn’t want to choose any of them, because I thought “My bard would say this, but not that...she agrees with this, but wouldn’t say it in that way...” etc, etc. (I distinctly remember the “supply of emergency chocolate” line because I started wondering if chocolate had been invented yet, and that destroyed the suspension of disbelief. It can get too silly.) When writing for customized PCs, you have to stay away from detail that would be necessary in the dialogue of an NPC (i.e., Edwin’s). The simpler the sentence is, the easier it is for more people to imagine their Bhaalspawn saying it. This is clearly written for the modder’s Bhaalspawn, not every Bhaalspawn - because even the highly evil responses carry the same over-the-top sarcasm as the good or neutral-chaotic-ish responses. DA:O’s Alistair romance is a good example of how to pull this off properly while keeping the comedy intact. Everybody remembers the “lamppost in winter” conversation, but Alistair gives you all the bizarre prompts, and the PC chooses how to play off it - sincerely or teasingly. That’s an awesome tactic.

5) I read one review of the mod that was like “Edwin is too sweet by the end” and...that’s kind of it, but also kind of not. If you shift him to True Neutral (I did) the sweetness does kind of make sense (plus, it’s alluded to canonically. “Eddie” /snort). The problem is that the last four conversations or so flatten him out a lot. Being “sweet” is easy, but being selfless is not. Edwin is pretty much an ignoble, selfish brat, and I think it makes way more sense for him to struggle with the Bhaalspawn’s fate than instantly accept that she will transcend beyond him. Who the heck is above Edwin Odesseiron, huh? Psh. Nobody. He claims he’s ready to beat up Elminster (and by the time you level him up in ToB I bet he could do it I mean holy shit he can summon like 6 planetars a day fuck off everybody). In canon when you drag him to hell he’s like “Eh, I was already headed here. Maybe I’ll stick around and see if there’s some profit in this”. He’s a schemer, not a martyr. He’s ambitious. At least, he is naturally. Seeing him struggle with accepting the Bhaalspawn’s destiny and learning that there are powers and fates beyond his, and then preparing to let her go, would be way, way more powerful than him being like “ah yes farewell my deva I have always Predicted this. Even though I lack such foresight that I’m completely unable to learn divination spells.”

6) (On the other hand, A+ for the “my deva” conceit. That is perfect. Edwin’s a conjurer, so of course his pet name of choice would be one of the most powerful pets you can summon. I love it. That’s the creepysweet I’m looking for in a Lawful Evil romance. Plus it sounds good in his voice in my head. It’s perfect. GAH.)

So yeah. I’ve been thinking a lot about writing Evil romance since working on Devils - I might try and break this one down too, and see how I would do it. Writing exerciiiiiiise \o/

#baldur's gate is baldur's great #bg2 #shut up currie #I am still happy I installed the mod though #and I'll still use it on my second playthrough #what am I gonna do #romance anomen #PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH

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preciousmetals0 · 4 years

Text

Tesla Targets Met; Gold and Oil Bets

Tesla Targets Met; Gold and Oil Bets:

Friday Four Play: The “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” Edition

I know it’s traditional to start the new year with fireworks … but this is not what I expected.

I’m sure Great Stuff readers all know by now, but just in case you live a media-starved life, here’s the skinny.

The U.S. conducted a Trump-approved airstrike yesterday that killed Qassem Soleimani, a top Iranian general. But “top Iranian general” doesn’t quite relate Soleimani’s importance in Iran. He ranks up there with Iran’s president in terms of prominence to Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, Iran’s supreme leader.

Just so there aren’t any misunderstandings, Soleimani wasn’t a nice guy to U.S. troops or their allies in the Middle East. Many prior U.S. presidents have wanted him gone. But the threat of retaliation has stayed any direct U.S. action for decades.

Now, “severe retaliation” is coming, according to a statement from Khamenei last night.

No one knows what retaliation entails, but most analysts speculate that it means attacks on energy infrastructure related to U.S. interests in the region — i.e., oil facilities. It could also mean attacks on oil tankers traveling through the Strait of Hormuz — a key waterway for transporting oil from the Middle East.

As I’ve said before, Wall Street hates uncertainty. So, not only did crude oil prices spike on the threat of rising turmoil in the region, but stocks across the board are down sharply due to fear of the unknown.

Now, we can play armchair politician all day long … but that won’t get us anywhere. What we can do, however, is look rationally at what happened and determine the best course of action as investors.

When it comes to natural resources, there’s no one better at doing just that than Banyan Hill expert Matt Badiali, editor of Real Wealth Strategist.

Long before the current threat in the Middle East, Matt has had his eye on the rise of American oil production and its rising market dominance.

“America is sitting on over 11.3 trillion barrels of untapped oil. And there’s one company with the technology to start getting that oil out of the ground,” Matt says.

That’s 40 times more oil than Saudi Arabia … and nearly 60 times more than Russia. And Matt knows of one company that’s perfectly positioned to bring this oil to the surface — just when the world needs it most. He estimates that fast-acting investors could triple their money or more off this one opportunity as oil prices climb.

Click here to find out more now!

And now for something completely different, here’s your Friday Four Play:

No. 1: A Golden New Year

Gold isn’t something that typically crosses my screen as a Great Stuff topic. But, given today’s circumstances, it’s well worth a look.

In light of rising demand for safe-haven assets, gold for February delivery (GC=F) spiked more than 1.5% following yesterday’s strike in Iraq. In fact, gold prices have surged nearly 3% this week after first getting a seasonal boost ahead of the Lunar New Year.

The malleable metal grew in popularity last year, rising 20% in 2019 due to political uncertainty and interest rate cuts from the U.S. Federal Reserve. Remember, gold prices rise during periods of low inflation. This is why it’s such a good store of value for your portfolio.

So, if you’re looking to add a little bling to your portfolio — and a safety net amid rising geopolitical turmoil — gold is a good way to do both.

But, as Reading Rainbow��s LeVar Burton always says: “You don’t have to take my word for it.” Banyan Hill expert John Ross just did an in-depth dive into gold’s prospects for 2020 and concluded: “Gold is where it’s at on New Year’s Eve.”

Read more here: “Bullish Resolutions: Buy This New Year’s Metal to Jump-Start 2020.”

No. 2: Tesla Owns Doubters

Boy, it must suck to be Jeffrey Osborne of Cowen Inc. (Nasdaq: COWN) today.

Back on December 30, Osborne told clients that Tesla Inc. (Nasdaq: TSLA) would miss 2019 delivery targets while mumbling something about “demand saturation” for the company going forward.

Osborne’s target: 356,000 vehicles in 2019 and 101,000 vehicles in the fourth quarter.

Tesla’s actual figures: 367,500 vehicles delivered in 2019 and 112,000 in the fourth quarter.

Ouch … you can almost hear Osborne screaming “Shaaarooon!” in response. (Wait … wrong Osborne.)

It gets worse (or better, if you’re a Tesla bull). Wall Street only expected 106,000 deliveries in the fourth quarter. Furthermore, Tesla says that these figures were conservative, only counting cars that were transferred to the customer with all the paperwork in order. Tesla believes the final numbers could be higher by 0.5% or more.

And — I’ll just throw this one out there — if gasoline prices spike amid the current U.S.-Iran situation, Tesla will get even more popular. I’m hearing rumors of gas at $5 per gallon. Makes me glad I work from home.

No. 3: Short Squeeze to Yuma

Oil and gas stocks are booming today amid the obvious events in the Middle East. But one American energy company is on the fast track higher — and nobody is talking about it.

Shares of Yuma Energy Inc. (NYSE: YUMA) surged drastically today — up about 60% at one point. The obvious reason for YUMA’s gusher is that investors are rushing into American oil assets on fears of a potential disruption.

But Yuma isn’t that big of a player in the American oil market. Its market capitalization is only $6.6 million. It’s a small fry. So, why are YUMA shares surging today?

The answer lies in the fact that Yuma is such a small player. Right now, there are only about 1.32 million YUMA shares available for public trading. Of these 1.32 million shares, 6.68% are sold short.

Can you see where this is going now? The U.S. airstrike prompted a rush into American oil companies, which boosted YUMA more than expected. Short sellers then rushed in to cover their positions to avoid heavy losses, thus exacerbating the rally.

So, lucky YUMA bulls, your shares are getting squeezed tighter than a tube of toothpaste in a 2-year-old’s hands. (Might want to take some profits … just saying.)

No. 4: Inedible Edibles?

Yesterday, Great Stuff talked about how pot stocks rallied big at the end of 2019 … but then that rally, well … went to pot.

Today, we hit up the pot guru himself, Anthony Planas, for his take on cannabis stocks. In his latest “potcast” video, Anthony discusses legalization in Illinois, Coca-Cola Co. (NYSE: KO) CBD rumors and Aurora Cannabis Inc.’s (NYSE: ACB) plethora of Cannabis 2.0 products in Canada.

Unlike a certain Great Stuff editor — I’m not going to name names — Anthony’s not all that keen on cannabis edibles, but he sees big things for the vape market. However, Anthony wonders if Aurora spent too much cash on too many products heading into 2020.

You can watch his latest video below (with some added love for Great Stuff thrown in. Thanks Anthony!):

[embedded content]

Great Stuff: Puff, Puff, Pass

So, 2020 is turning out to be just as explosive as I hoped it would be. (Too soon?)

That joke was about as subtle as a hand grenade in a barrel of oatmeal. (I say, I say, thank you, Foghorn Leghorn.)

The market is rockin’ and rolling (or roiling … depending on your point of view). There are opportunities everywhere … you just have to sift through the noise to find that nice meaty center.

Luckily for you, you have Great Stuff to help you dig through the sand for the best market news. But you don’t want to keep all this great stuff for yourself, do you? (Do you?)

No. You don’t. You’re a worldly investor who shares with friends and colleagues.

So, why not sign them up for Great Stuff today!

Finally, if you need more meme-y goodness in 2020, don’t forget to like and follow Great Stuff on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram!

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

0 notes

goldira01 · 4 years

Link

Friday Four Play: The “You Dropped a Bomb on Me” Edition

I know it’s traditional to start the new year with fireworks … but this is not what I expected.

I’m sure Great Stuff readers all know by now, but just in case you live a media-starved life, here’s the skinny.

Now, “severe retaliation” is coming, according to a statement from Khamenei last night.

When it comes to natural resources, there’s no one better at doing just that than Banyan Hill expert Matt Badiali, editor of Real Wealth Strategist.

Long before the current threat in the Middle East, Matt has had his eye on the rise of American oil production and its rising market dominance.

“America is sitting on over 11.3 trillion barrels of untapped oil. And there’s one company with the technology to start getting that oil out of the ground,” Matt says.

Click here to find out more now!

And now for something completely different, here’s your Friday Four Play:

No. 1: A Golden New Year

Gold isn’t something that typically crosses my screen as a Great Stuff topic. But, given today’s circumstances, it’s well worth a look.

So, if you’re looking to add a little bling to your portfolio — and a safety net amid rising geopolitical turmoil — gold is a good way to do both.

But, as Reading Rainbow’s LeVar Burton always says: “You don’t have to take my word for it.” Banyan Hill expert John Ross just did an in-depth dive into gold’s prospects for 2020 and concluded: “Gold is where it’s at on New Year’s Eve.”

Read more here: “Bullish Resolutions: Buy This New Year’s Metal to Jump-Start 2020.”

No. 2: Tesla Owns Doubters

Boy, it must suck to be Jeffrey Osborne of Cowen Inc. (Nasdaq: COWN) today.

Back on December 30, Osborne told clients that Tesla Inc. (Nasdaq: TSLA) would miss 2019 delivery targets while mumbling something about “demand saturation” for the company going forward.

Osborne’s target: 356,000 vehicles in 2019 and 101,000 vehicles in the fourth quarter.

Tesla’s actual figures: 367,500 vehicles delivered in 2019 and 112,000 in the fourth quarter.

Ouch … you can almost hear Osborne screaming “Shaaarooon!” in response. (Wait … wrong Osborne.)

No. 3: Short Squeeze to Yuma

Oil and gas stocks are booming today amid the obvious events in the Middle East. But one American energy company is on the fast track higher — and nobody is talking about it.

But Yuma isn’t that big of a player in the American oil market. Its market capitalization is only $6.6 million. It’s a small fry. So, why are YUMA shares surging today?

So, lucky YUMA bulls, your shares are getting squeezed tighter than a tube of toothpaste in a 2-year-old’s hands. (Might want to take some profits … just saying.)

No. 4: Inedible Edibles?

Yesterday, Great Stuff talked about how pot stocks rallied big at the end of 2019 … but then that rally, well … went to pot.

You can watch his latest video below (with some added love for Great Stuff thrown in. Thanks Anthony!):

[embedded content]

Great Stuff: Puff, Puff, Pass

So, 2020 is turning out to be just as explosive as I hoped it would be. (Too soon?)

That joke was about as subtle as a hand grenade in a barrel of oatmeal. (I say, I say, thank you, Foghorn Leghorn.)

The market is rockin’ and rolling (or roiling … depending on your point of view). There are opportunities everywhere … you just have to sift through the noise to find that nice meaty center.

Luckily for you, you have Great Stuff to help you dig through the sand for the best market news. But you don’t want to keep all this great stuff for yourself, do you? (Do you?)

No. You don’t. You’re a worldly investor who shares with friends and colleagues.

So, why not sign them up for Great Stuff today!

Finally, if you need more meme-y goodness in 2020, don’t forget to like and follow Great Stuff on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram!

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

#Timor Invest

0 notes

wishingfornever · 5 years

Text

12/14/17 – No Contact: NationState Anniversary

It would appear that a year ago, MN was created. Hrm… Interesting. I thought I made it sooner. I was in Texas at this time. I thought I was in California when I created MN. Or when Castro died. Well, he died in November… yeah, I was in Texas. Weird. My memory is turning to crap.

Hrm… I coughed up some mucus mixed with blood. That’s a really bad sore throat.

244. I’m almost at 240. That’s great. Then 40 more pounds and I reach my goal. Which should be in about April. April is going to be the month for me. 2018 will be the year for me. I’m optimistic. :D

Watching Moana on Netflix. Charming movie thus far, of course it just began. I have one quip. This wisewoman is sharing the history of the tribe with these toddlers and they’re all scared except for the titular character. Two things that I take issue with:

Firstly, there are more male toddlers than female toddlers. That would be a truly rare occurrence to see in a culture such as theirs. Women have always outnumbered men historically.

Second, this old bat is talking about how everyone is going to die and Moana is smiling like a maniac. All the other children are afraid. So, I guess this has two points within it’s own point. Moana shouldn’t be smiling and it’s alright to be afraid. She is young, she has a lot of reasons to be afraid because if she’s not then she won’t grow up and will be carried off by predatory animals in the middle of the night. That said, why not tell the story when they’re old so that they won’t break down in tears and will remember their own history better? Just saying.

Also, why doesn’t Moana have any siblings? Especially since her father’s father’s father’s father’s father was chief that continued to son onto son onto son? Idk, I don’t understand how their government works. I like the poetic meaning with the rocks on the tallest part of the island, though.

Fuck, how old is this fucking chicken? Where are they getting their fabric from?

Moana isn’t a super narrow princess that we’ve grown accustomed to in Disney movies. She’s kinda buff. :o

Oh, shit. Moana’s grandma killed Steve Irwin. :o

Ugh… Just finished Moana. I feel like crying.

I ended up crying. Watched Lava by Disney/Pixar. Cute song. Very touching. I’m very emotional right now, I guess. Anyways, it’s time to walk Max.

Back. Watching the Jungle Book. The one with CGI animals. One of the wolves refers to a boar as wild. Like, really? You’re fucking wild! >:C

I noticed how there were hand drawn animations in this one (at the beginning) and in Moana. I guess Disney is still watching out for their old cartoonists. That’s nice of them.

Just like the old Jungle Book, they cheat. They’re recycling CGI animals from OTHER Disney movies and using them in slightly edited scenes! GAWD!!! Kidding, kidding.

Oh, Sher Khan sounds powerful. Good voice actor.

Fucking hell, Bill Murray is ruining the movie for me. Like, GOD DAMMIT. Everyone refers to Mowgli as the “Man Cub!” and speak very properly and in a distinguished manner. Then Bill Murray comes in speaking his fucking slang and just being… well, himself. Says, “Kid.” Like, really? I wish they got someone else to be Baloo.

Something I do like about the movie is how the animals have their own customs, traditions, cultures, languages, governance, and even religion. It’s crazy. So much lore. :o

Eh… the bear-necessities song seems out of place. Guess I was hoping it’d be more of a drama rather than a comedy/family movie. I mean, Bill Murray isn’t a bad actor but I don’t find him very… well, dramatic. He’s more comedy which is probably why I prefer someone more fluid with the other voice actors.

Mowgli forgot his rope.

Christ, Christopher Walken is King Louie. “I want… to… be like… YOU… I want… to… TALK… like you… in coherent sentences.”

I take back everything I said about Bill Murray. Christopher Walken, however… And yet again, the song feels out of place. Want more drama. Then again King “Louie” doesn’t sound like it belongs to begin with. All the other names are SUPER Indian. King Louie, however? Sounds French. I’ll look into it sometime.

Gigantopithecus? Is that what King Louie was in the original? I thought he was an orangutan. Ah, well. It’s kinda cool they’re using an extinct creature. It makes it extra creepy, like he were some sort of old god. I was wondering why he was so big. I feel like they changed the song since then.

HE SAYS “FIRE” IN THE FUCKING SONG!!! WHAT THE FUCK!?! THE LORE!!! YOU’RE BREAKING THE LORE!!!

Wait, Mowgli did a monkey crawl thing up the steps. Now that he’s running in terror, he knows how to run up them like a normal person? Consistency…

This is a weird thing to note, but Christopher Walken has a lot of screen time. Kaa’s voice actor has such a pretty voice, I was hoping we’d get to hear more of her. Maybe she’ll show up again. I’ll look up the cast when the movie is over.

I like how the monkeys swarm but can’t really do much damage. Like, lol, they the zerg.

Oh, fuck. Zerg is a perfect comparison. They have a hivemind. The temple collapses and they immediately coordinate a rescue effort. All in unison. In sync.

Mowgli is sneaking into the Human Village. I bet you he’s going to steal the fire and then leave. Obviously not trying to join them. Also, wasn’t it daylight a minute ago?

Now, I’m pretty civilized. But is it common to have a bonfire in the middle of the village every night? I feel like that’s a waste of resources. Also, how did he reach that torch? It’s like twice his height up. Also, how would they know fire is red? When it’s more orange? Not the point. Red flower. Aren’t most animals colorblind?

Fuck, that was a quick run. I thought it took him days to get to that village. It took him far less time to get back.

Ah, fuck! Mowgli just proved Sher Khan’s point! Whaaaaaat?! Moral complexity in a Disney movie?!

Sher Khan killed Baloo? Oh, shit. That was brutal. I wonder who would win. A tiger or a bear. Doubt they’d interact very often, tbh. Bears would win on strength but tigers are strong AND agile. Like, oof. They’re a feline. And Sher Khan is like… vicious. Baloo is lazy. Guess that settles that.

Drat. Sher Khan fell to his death. Though, admittedly, the fall probably didn’t kill him because tigers are just oversized cats. Rather, I’m fairly certain the fire did. Disney likes having falls into fire. Hrm…

Fuck! Baloo lived!

Elephants don’t strike me as the sort to alter the environment but I’m not an elephant specialist.

Alright, it’s over. I wonder what will happen when Mowgli gets older. Like, will one of the female wolves be offered to him as a “bride” or whatever? Will he fuck a wolf? Is he a furry? And what of King Louie? Will he come back for him? And also, his diaper. Why does he never take it off? I’m aware that it’s indecent and I don’t want to see an underaged penis. However, how would he know what decency is? And does he ever poop? Where does he poop? Does he eat meat raw? It seems like he must have. Can you actually eat meat raw? I think humans used to be able to but the organ responsible is no longer functional. There are so many questions. Really, he should have been brought back to the human village at the end to avoid, “When his balls drop, will he fuck animals?” question. I might be the only one asking it, but I’m asking it.

Oh, the outro is fucking awesome. Christopher Walken/King Louie crawling out of rubble and then singing in these temple ruins inside a book. Pretty cool, not sure if it’s canon. If it is, then that means he lived and Mowgli better beware.

Shere Khan? I’ve spelled it wrong this entire time. :o

HOLY FUCK!!! KAA WAS SCARLETT JOHANSSON!!! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!? Like, that’s a name I’m familiar with and I’m not that great with names. Jesus Christ, you fucking got her to play Kaa for a SINGLE scene? Less than that? Like, so little. I feel like she should have had more screen time. Like, really. She must have been EXPENSIVE to bring in. Geez. :o

Just googled Akela’s character. It’s Gus from Breaking Bad. Or the Dentist from Payday. That dude is usually a villain. They’ve got a great cast. He was a very powerful pack leader, I thought. Surprised his character died.

Then again, these actors are pretty expensive. Maybe that’s why they’re only in it for a little bit? Or because plot.

Alright, so that was it for the big names. I heard that in the original story of the Jungle Book, Mowgli had elephants destroy his village at the very end and killed everyone. Not sure how true that is. If it’s very true, then the book is immediately better.

Eh… looking for something else on Netflix. Recommended for me… all anime. I don’t watch anime. Esther does. Her spectre is back. :/

Going through critically acclaimed. That means they received high reviews. They’re considered good movies. One of these movies: Antz.

I’ve seen Antz. I remember it from when I was very young. Allow me to assure you, it wasn’t very good. It had Christopher Walken in it. That’s not really relevant to the quality, just thought it’d be interesting to point out since the Jungle Book also had him.

Holy shit, Antz is a children’s movie? There was an attempted rape scene in it. Christ. :o

Anastasia… that was a decent movie. It’s not a Disney movie. I know this because I cracked a joke involving Disney. I think it was the supposed hatred for Jews? I don’t remember the joke. Anyways, everyone quickly YELLED at me, calling me VERY mean things and informed me in a not so polite manner that Anastasia is made by Fox.

Whoops! Anyways, I remember that a lot because it was in my World of Warcraft days. Dark times, even then. Late high school, early… no school? Idk, but you get it. I basically had this guild I rolled with called the Bloodfury Clan. Orc-Only RP guild on an RPPvP (Role Play Player versus Player) Server. It’s where my writing talents sort of… came to me. These folks were very professional in a very brutish way. It was great. We never referred to our guild as a guild. It was a Clan. Because ORC!!! The head of the Clan was this Puerto Rican woman. A lovely person. Kil’Gora. Or Kilgora because the game wouldn’t allow punctuation in your name, but lorewise! It was Kil’gora. Real name was Miri. I looked up to her. She was very influential. Helped me through… a lot of dark times. Mostly caused by my dad.

I don’t remember if it was before or after my comment… I think after. But over Ventrilo, she sung to me. Out of the blue. Just… randomly sung. She knew I was going through a particularly rough day, so she sang to me. She sang a song from Anastasia. I cried. It may seem like I cry a lot, but I assure you, crying for me used to be rare. I hated crying. I didn’t want to seem weak. She was there for me. And she was the first person to hear me cry.

Esther, however, was the first person to see me cry. Weird how that works.

Anyways, a nickname of hers was Ariel because of her Disney singing voice. I pointed out to her that Anastasia isn’t by Disney but by Fox. It surprised her too. I also told her that the internet thought I was a fucking retard for not knowing. That didn’t surprise her. Tough love.

Decided to send her a message. Just something reassuring. Life hasn’t been easy for her. And considering how Puerto Rico has been this year, I’d say she’s probably worried about home. She doesn’t live there anymore… but it’s still her home. Weird to say.

You know, I never really considered California home until I left it. I was alone in Texas with plains. I felt like I was in the middle of a golden ocean. Why was it golden? Because it was piss. I missed the mountains. They were always so reassuring. Then I come back and realize that I never wanted to come back. And I couldn’t return to Texas because my dad fucked my credit. Well… I have now. I don’t really look outside. I don’t really pay attention to the atmosphere. A lot has changed. But, I keep my troubles to myself. To many, they see me and think, “Wow… he hasn’t changed one bit after all these years.”

The reality is, I’m always changing. I find new horrors, new regrets, new kinks in my personality. Every day, I feel more unhinged. What they see is what I rehearse. I plan conversations ahead of schedule, I alleviate thought and avoid improvisation. Should they deviate from the path… chaos. Panic. Fear behind a shy smile. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say.

Thus, many will see that I say the same thing over and over. This is intentional. This is the conversational package that will get me through my life. How long will that last?

Years ago, I predicted that I would die at the age of 27. This was during the Bloodfury Clan. So, perhaps I will die next year. Maybe I shouldn’t enlist afterall. Regardless, it’d be more convenient if I do perish. Simpler, rather. Not that I seek my own death but I will not seek to prevent it, either. If I die, then I will die. If I live, then I will live until I die. The age at which I die is irrelevant.

However, I will be disappointed to die at 28. That might actually piss me off.

Anyways, backtracking. Fun fact about Orc RP: It’s basically descriptive grunting. Like, it’s comical at times. You have to be fierce. Not necessarily sub-human but definitely animalistic. I was THE BEST recruiter Bloodfury ever had. At least… I think? Not sure. Might have changed since then. I’d post my advertisement in General Chat and Trade Chat. People would often comment with how well written it was. I had longer adverts, too, but Blizz prevented me from using them because spam filter.

Drat.

My best advertisement was actually a ripoff from the Napoleon: Total War intro cinematic. The thing is, I didn’t even own Napoleon: Total War until I was in Texas. I had already stopped playing WoW by then.

Not the point. The point is, people would send me a “Tell” or “Whisper” which is a direct and personal message directly to me. Tell me if I need to slow down. Anyways, we’d set up an interview to see if they can RP. Turns out, not many people can. It’s easy. Write a coherent sentence, right? You’d think.

Most people are illiterate. And though my advert was well-written, it appealed to EVERYONE. So, a lot of Non-Orcs and Non-RPers would have to be turned away. It was a shame, but purity. You know how that goes. #fascism

When the interview began, I started with a single statement. “The Prey approaches.” Nothing more primal than referring to someone who is your lesser as prey, something for you to sink your fangs into and tear their flesh out. It also establishes dominance. Not sure how, though. Miri said she LOVED that line because it was just… perfect. Orcs don’t HAVE to be stupid. They can be, but that’s not their purpose.

Big, dumb orcs? No. Orcs are brutes, but that doesn’t mean they’re stupid. Orcs should be Laconic, forceful, direct, perhaps impatient. Orcs can be really smart but they should still be prone to their instinct.

I mentioned a story here, I’m fairly certain. Of my orc in a forest? I might not have, but if I have then consider this a recap. The orc ended up looting a dwarven doll and then it broke and he angrily threw it at a tree so hard it shattered. He was basically an angry gorilla, pounding the floor and screaming over something so trivial. My Orc wasn’t dumb. He had my intellect, which has been praised by many. It’s also been denounced by far more, but fuck them; me am smart Orc!

PvP was my thing. It was my character’s lore. I basically leveled from 57 to 60 using NOTHING but Alterac Valley, one of the PvP modes. PvP, btw, stands for Player vs Player. So, I would attack other players. Miri got me turned on to WORLD PvP where you gank people. Gank means you ambush them while they’re questing. I was REALLY good at it. Like, I set up AMAZING ambushes.

Back in the day, you had to walk to dungeons. Now, you just magically appear there for… reasons. But back then? No. You had to be there in person and then you could summon people to join you. What I did was I waited at one of these dungeons. It’s entrance was an opened top box. On the top parts, were pillars and debris to depict the dungeon being ruins or whatever. What I’d do was have my cat, who was named “Mittens” because I’m a badass Orc Warrior but lol. I RP’d with Mittens. She was canon. It was… the best.

Mittens would break to be on one side. I’d use a bunch of potions to make my character small and turn him into a skeleton. I’d wait on the other side of the box. When someone entered, I’d pop out behind cover, throw my axe at them, pop back in, and wait. They’d look around, see the cat, and look at it. Then, when Mittens had their attention, I’d pop out from cover again and charge into their backs and just BEAT the everliving shit out of them.

Other times, I’d stalk people. Wait to strike. Like this one Paladin who I was following. She jumped down and bubbled (meaning she cast a spell making her immune to damage for a limited time). When the bubble faded, I charged her. She took so much damage she tried to heal. I spellblocked her in the middle, meaning that spell and any spells like it were unable to be cast for a limited time. Her defeat was SO absolute, her only response was to /cry.

I felt a little bad, so I apologized for it on my Alliance character almost immediately after. She was really nice it seemed.

Anyways, another time there was another Paladin. He was doing daily quests. He was pulling all these monsters all at once so he can kill them all at once and complete the quest faster. I saw this and ambushed him. Me plus ALL these monsters meant he had no chance. I won.

When you die, you have to find your body as a ghost and then you come back to life. He does this and immediately heals. He finds me. I wave. He changes his armor to PvP specific armor. He changes his specialization from Player versus Environment (PvE) Paladin to PvP Paladin. I get worried. I message Jer that I might need help. Then I realize he has no mana. I tell Jer, “Nevermind” and charge him again.

A Paladin is worthless without Mana. He loses again. I laugh and I laugh.

I use player’s instincts and strengths against them while feeding on their weaknesses. When you get attacked, you find where they attack from. You see a fortified position or a sign of previous occupation (like say a cat that follows a player anywhere they go) and you prepare for an assault from that position. Then you get attacked from what you thought was barren and had no sign of life because you didn’t expect a 6’5” Orc to actually be a 2’ skeleton hiding behind the least cover possible. The most powerful spells in someone’s arsenal will be used carelessly when they’re not threatened. So, if you wait long enough, they’ll expend what they think they won’t need and will be vulnerable for attack far sooner. Preparing for confrontation means you’ll have to reallocate resources. Failure to account for the resources lost means you’ll be targeted before you can replenish.

I could have written a world PvP book. Like, I suggested to clan members who were getting into PvP to get the Helmet and Shoulder armors last when it comes to PvP gear because it’s the easiest to recognize because they actually have unique models. If you have ALL the armor besides the helmet and shoulder armor, you’d be VERY well-geared, but you won’t look like it. Thus, you’d be underestimated and that’d give you an advantage in the initial engagement.

I miss PvP.

Anyways… watching Anastasia. If you ever read this and think, “Maybe Orc RP is kinda cool?” it is. At a time, I knew plenty of Orcish words that I’d just throw into conversation to make it sound so much more authentic. My axe was named “Lok’tra” which is an Orcish song about great battles or whatever. I LOVE naming weapons. ^^

Hrm, I’m not sure how historically accurate those uniforms are.

300 years? Um, not in 1916… 1913 would be 300 years. Though, I guess it was just rounding down at that point... But traveling to Paris? During WWI? Not with that German Uboat threat. And this bitch, with Rasputin? The Tsarina LOVED Rasputin because he saved their son. And then he said when he dies, their entire family would die.

This is something petty to point out, especially since it’s accepted regardless… but “Tsar” is better than “Czar.” I’m sure “Tsar” looks less pleasing, but the Russian character they use is basically a “Ts.” Pronounce the T and then the s. Czar is still correct, of course, but Tsar is perhaps more correct.

Rasputin did die from drowning. But it wasn’t an accident. He was assassinated by Russian nobles (not the Romanov family) who didn’t like how much power he had with the Tsar and the Tsarina. Or he was assassinated by the British. Long story there. The fun story is that he was poisoned. Excessively. And then he was shot. Excessively. Then he was tied up. Excessively. And then he was tossed in a river. His body was discovered and he had freed himself of the rope. He had drowned, though. He was a pain in the ass to kill.

Also, a fortnight? Really? The Romanovs were killed in 1918. Not 1916. Or 1917.

Wait, this bitch is taking a train to Paris? A train? Bullshit. Not with WWI. Like, no way. She could be taking it to a sea port, but still. Not very likely.

Saint Petersburg? Still? 1917, we’ll say, so in 7 years. She’d be 23 when it switches to Leningrad. So, I wonder how old she is. If it’s not too long, then she’d be stuck in a Russian civil war.

Oh, that’s dumb. They have a newspaper saying, “Anastasia Lives” and the “A” is the Russian character for “D.” That’s the only Cyrillic letter there. The rest are western letters. Commissar wouldn’t have a tie at this time. At least he shouldn’t, fairly certain they had only collars.

How come the main characters are the only people without Russian accents? More importantly, why would they have Russian accents? They’d be speaking Russian, not English. Thus they wouldn’t have much accent to themselves. Thus, it’d be more natural to have them use anglophone accents instead of Russian accents speaking English. Like, if they speak French? They can speak French in English but should have a Russian accent because French isn’t Russian so they would have an accent. It’s just… trivial, I guess.

TEN YEARS?!? FUCKING CHRIST!!! Anastasia was born in 1901! Assuming it all happened in 1916, that means she’d be leaving that orphanage at the age of 25. There is no Russian Civil War at this point, and it’d DEFINITELY be Leningrad.

Backing up to the Russian accents thing… something that I’d think would be cool would be Russian slang equivalents or idioms. I say that because there are a lot of American slang and idioms in movies like this. Like saying, “Pal” or “Guys” or whatever. When making someone sound foreign, you don’t need to give them an accent. Just alter the way they speak. It’ll still sound foreign when clearly spoken in English. A good example is Jade Empire. I think the character’s name was Smiling Mountain and he introduced you to the in-game language and then spoke regular English again. Mind you, Jade Empire is based in Fantasy China so they wouldn’t be speaking English. Thus, they reflected the foreign language through clear, concise, and proper wording and very poetic touches like Spear-Catches-Leaf. Of course, that’s a name. They’re are a lot of names like that, obviously… but the point of those names is that you understand the language so you know what the names mean. Very pleasant. :D I already hate the fucking dog. Fuck the dog. I hate the fucking dog. Die. Dog.

Also, I want to see this movie in Russian. I feel like it’d be better.

The squirrels should be hibernating.

The animation is weird. Like, multiple layers… the footprints in the snow move at a different pace than the snow does when the camera is moving. Peculiar.

No exit visa! No ticket! Glory Arstotzka! I love how he actually has a hammer and sickle. Red uniform was a thing for at least one unit during the civil war, not sure if he’d have one though.

Fairly certain the palace wasn’t abandoned. It was probably re-purposed. Might be wrong though since the governance did move to Moscow.

Singing the song Miri sang to me… It was touching, almost brought me to tears. Then I realized that all the dancers look the same. I realized Anastasia is a schizophrenic. Maybe not the real Anastasia. Just Anya. Tsar Nicky looks good for a 50 year old man. Or at least a ghost. Then again, he was always an attractive man I thought. That is unusually rare for royalty. I’m not sure why that is. Look at the queen of England. Who will inherit looks like he was kicked in the face by the ugliest horse in the stable. Who won’t inherit actually is a decent looker.

Of course, the uglier son… I heard he is supposed to be a very kind man. Could be wrong. But he is honorable.

She said she was 8 when the revolutions happened… um… no? She was born in 1901 not 1908-1909.

I’m fairly certain Tsar Nicholas II’s mother died before Anastasia did. The entire movie is her going to find her grandmother, who clearly played favorites. What a bitch.

I like how Rasputin actually expresses joy when he sees his old bat friend. It’s touching. :D

They get a period correct map but they couldn’t get the rest correct? Actually, how am I sure this map is correct?

It’s not! Estonia isn’t on there! Or rather, it doesn’t have any borders, really… implying it’s a part of Russia! Come on! >:C

It bothers me that Vladimir is the only one with a Russian accent. Either everyone does it or no one does.

Where did they get horses? Did they steal them?

The fuck is Tasha? The boat is in Germany? Why is Tasha everywhere?

Ugh… I always found France pretentious and overrated. Like, at a point France dictated what was considered art and what wasn’t considered art. Rembrandt is an example of what wasn’t considered art. However, more people recognize Rembrandt than any of the French artists of the same period.

Holy crap, someone’s actually speaking Russian. Really?

Where did they get the palace? In France? The French Republic? They leasing out Versailles now? Who are the nobles?

Dmitri gets hit in the head with debris. Then the dick. Then Anya says, “THIS IS FOR DMITRI!!!” Like, make sure he’s dead first. Otherwise, he might already have one. Won’t need two.

They eloped? Oof. Where are they going? Leaving Paris, it seems. Can’t go back to Russia because… well, they’ll kill her there. Curious. Probably a dumb idea. The monarchy could establish a government in exile, of course. That’s if she didn’t elope. She doesn’t think about Russia. Self-absorbed brat. This is why the Romanovs were shot.

Huh. The voice actors are up there. Kelsey Grammer. His last name bothers me. Christopher Lloyd was the Doc from Back to the Future. John Cusak. Kirsten Dunst. That’s all I recognize.

Oh, fuck. It’s 1 in the morning. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Um…

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