Little drunk altmal fluff to ease the pain🥰
I heard Altair come into the bureau. It was late at night and he had been out tracking his target all day.
A rich political who spent his time getting drunk, sending money to Templars, and spreading their propaganda.
He recently had a man killed for speaking out against his cruel ways. The drunkard deserved to die.
I watched as Altair walked into the main room, holding up a bloodied feather. He was oddly quiet.
I gave a nod of approval before returning to the map I had been looking at. To my left, I heard the sound of Altair walking behind my desk.
"Altair, what are y-" I was cut off by him sliding his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.
I tensed but he didn't seem to notice.
"Altair, what are you doing?" It was less of a question and more of a demand
"You smell like home." He muttered, burying his face in my neck.
From here, I could smell the faint smell of alcohol on his breath. His target had been a drinker, so it made sense that Altair had to go to a bar. But why was he drunk?
"And you smell like alcohol. Why are you drunk novice." I said while turning around to face him.
He was really close to my face. His hands lingered on my waist.
He frowned for a moment as if trying to remember. "Had to go as a guest. He insisted on me having some drinks."
I sighed. "They could have been poisoned!"
"Made him take the first sip." He muttered while leaning closer to me, resting his head on my shoulder.
"Okay, let's get you to bed. You can't fall asleep on my shoulder." I said, trying to gently move him off of me.
He made a whining noise while moving his face closer to my neck. The action made my hair stand.
Great, he didn't want to go to bed. I really didn't want to leave him out here.
"Why don't you want to go to bed?" I said exasperated. Just how drunk was he?
"Nightmares." He muttered. His voice was barely audible, I could only hear him because he was right next to my ear.
I sighed. Most assassins suffered from nightmares, Altair included, so it made sense, but that didn't really help the situation.
"If I go with you, will you go to bed?" I knew I was going to regret this decision, but I'd rather suffer a bit of embarrassment than having a drunk assassin terrorizing the city.
Altair paused for a minute before nodding his head and moving off of me.
"Can you walk, or do I need to carry you?" I said sarcastically.
"I can walk." He said quietly.
I grabbed his hand and led him out from behind my desk. I brought him over to where he had been sleeping the past few nights. I was about to tell him to lie down before I noticed that he still had all of his knives on him.
"Your knives." I pointed out.
He looked down before shrugging.
"You're not going to bed with knives all over you. You're going to stab yourself."
He sighed, clearly unhappy, before sitting down and beginning to remove all of his weapons and gear. He was clearly struggling as his hands fumbled with the straps.
I shook my head, sitting down in front of him and beginning to help him with my one good arm.
I carefully set the knives off to the side, I was less careful with his gear, just tossing it next to the blades.
I tried not to focus on how close I was to him. I could feel his body heat. He was warm. It was a sharp contrast to the cold night. I was half tempted to lean into his warmth, but I refrained.
After all of his gear was off, he flopped down onto his makeshift bed, exhausted.
I laid down next to him, and he quickly moved closer to me, burying his face in my chest.
I sighed. Who knew that Altair, who despised touch, became so clingy when he was drunk.
I wrapped my arm around him, and he moved closer.
I closed my eyes and soon fell asleep myself.
He took a deep breath. "You smell like home." He murmured. It wasn't long before I could tell he was asleep.
I smiled. Maybe this wasn't so bad.
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I just had two different thoughts (that's twice as many as usual!) :
What if Ghost decided to learn how to speak Gàidhlig as a surprise for his Johnny only to have him look at him awkwardly because "sorry LT, I only know a few words of Gàidhlig, my native language is Scots...."
".... So I can't call you maw rye?"
"..... Is... Is that mo ghràidh?"
"So you do know Gaelic!"
"I said I knew a few words!"
Or, what if it was a bad day, Soap is already feeling a bit distraught, stuck in his head, emotional, irritable, he has difficulty focusing (more than usual) and he can feel a headache coming. Remarks, teases, that he usually lets slide with a joke seem to cut him, deeper and deeper with each one.
Ghost doesn't notice. No one does. Because Soap does his best to not be a bother.
But then, Soap is talking about something he likes back home and Ghost cracks his usual "speak English" joke. But this time Soap freezes.
He wants to say "I'm sorry I'm speaking my native language, that your people, to this day, are trying to eradicate and ridicule", wants to lash out, be mean, but he doesn't.
He just smiles a little, without his eyes, and tells everyone that he's going to bed. Because he knows that it's not fair to now be mad about something he usually jokes about. Deep down he knows that Ghost doesn't mean it like that, that it's their little inside joke.
But it doesn't keep him from crying in his pillow.
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Jaster: *while leading a small child out of a forest to the nearest space port to bring him back to Mandalore* …Ob’ika, this is the fifth tooka to try and climb into your robes this morning. Are you… do you normally take care of them? Like when I’m sleeping?
12 year old Obi-Wan, just met Jaster three days ago when their ships crashed on the same planet, was adopted within five minutes of meeting him: …no? They just. I mean. Animals just sorta… do that, ya?
Jaster: Oh. Do they always do that with Jetii?
Obi-Wan: …oh I mean… I guess not. They always do that with me. Master Yoda said I’m aligned with the cosmic force, which is why I give Master Windu an eye twitch when he sees me, but animals are sorta chill. They don’t care about the bad, they just think the cosmic force tastes good.
Jaster: !!!!!!!?????! What the kark does the cosmic force taste like??? What the kark IS the cosmic force????
Obi-Wan: Oh, um, it sorta tastes like sparkles, I think? Lil bit spicy, you know? It’s when your force attracts both unifying and living force to it.
Jaster: Okay, that last one makes a bit more sense and you could have lead with that. The living likes you because the living force likes you. And you taste like sparkles. Okay. Sure. You know what, you have a big brother, Jango, and he made about as much sense as you do now when he was your age. Arla was already in the ‘makes sense sometimes’ category when I got her. Idk why I questioned that.
Obi-Wan: *giving his most recent tooka cling-on a kiss* This one is really stupid, can we keep him? The stupid ones don’t last long in the wild.
Jaster: You know what? Sure.
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4 cubic yards of mulch later….
I am actually pretty proud of this! The weather wasnt being nice for us so I did the majority of the work by myself.
I had to take two breaks for thunder and lightening but I was able to get over half of the mulch moved and set up before Partner got home.
We were able to get it all taken care of before the last rainstorm of the day hit. I did have to bow out before that as I had gotten ankle blisters from my wet shoes.
My clothes from earlier are still soaked through…..
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