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tiny-banana-time · 2 years

Note

For the quiet love prompts: " you can stay... i'd like you to stay. "

Okay. So. This one got COMPLETELY out of hand. I'm not complaining, but damn.

Set just post Akuze, I think this is going to make its way into the second section of my long WIP. Basically, the Alliance wants Jay to start N school and are planning on extending the offer after Akuze. After everything goes... ya know, bad... he has to prove he's still up to the challenge. Queue a deployment on a Frigate with Alenko.

Shepard hadn’t exactly been social for their first week or so on the Marathon, but, Kaidan couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. Had he hoped that Shepard would at least interact with him: the one comfortably familiar lifeline he’d been handed before the brass threw him back into the thick of it, told to prove he wasn’t broken?

Of course Kaidan had hoped. He still did.

Where did the line between friend pushing him to help and subordinate encroaching on his shit fall with them at this point? They’d met less than two months ago, and everything after that first incredible week on Arcturus had been a living hell for Shepard, from what Kaidan has heard up to now. How close had they gotten in those few days? How much of that friendship still exists three weeks and one psychological disaster later?

Captain Volk turned the Marathon around specifically to drop off their previous Head of Marine Detail, Lieutenant Dillon, and replace her with Shepard. Scuttlebutt had said she was pissed about transferring to the Athens for Shepard’s sake, but cooled off at the prospect of rebuilding the Athen’s main platoon after their loss on Akuze. Thank fuck they had been smart enough to transfer Shepard to another ship after that. Kaidan couldn’t imagine being the only one of fifty-plus to return to the ship they embarked on, but could feel the stares of those passing blame with each step nonetheless. The judgement of peers wondering how you had not only survived, but managed to fuck things up for the rest of them in the same breath.

He was familiar with that.

Kaidan also knew damn well that if someone didn’t get Shepard to talk and actually start interacting with his crew, the marine would fold in on himself and get lost in the depths of self-blame he’d create.

He was intimately familiar with that.

Despite it all, Kaidan still finds himself hesitating with a hand primed and ready to knock, knuckles waiting for the cue from his brain to just fucking do it already. So he takes a deep breath and does, giving three firm little raps on the metal at chest height, before waiting. There’s the ever uncomfortable pause as he listens for any sign of movement within the maintenance closet he watched Shepard disappear into. It hits him that maybe he hadn’t given Shepard enough time alone for… whatever he’s trying to hide in there. Then again, Kaidan hopes he didn’t wait too long, either.

He’s about to knock again when there’s a shuffle on the other side of the door. Shepard gets close enough for their fields to pick up the other’s presence, and the shuffling stops. It starts up again, louder this time, and Kaidan is damn nervous when the door opens. A hand reaches out to grab onto his uniform top, and he’s dragged into the closet. The hand releases its hold as soon as the door closes, locking behind him.

Shepard has the lights low, but the glow they grace the room with is still enough to highlight the panic etched into his friend’s face. It’s incredible, Kaidan is distantly aware, how one look from the right person is enough to break his fucking heart in an instant. He wants to reach out and embrace the man, pull him in close and do anything he can to force some of that panic, that pain, to flow into himself instead. At the first sign of movement, though, Shepard flinches, and the shuffling resumes as he retreats, sitting back on a crate of bathroom cleaner across the tiny room.

Kaidan can tell he’s been crying, and fuck he should have come sooner.

“Hey.” He starts small, breaks the tension to give Shepard an easy entrance to the conversation.

“Hey.” It’s rough as the words make their way out, probably the first ones since he’d dismissed them from their training debrief a few hours prior.

“I uh-” words are escaping him, now when the right ones count for more than usual. Kaidan clears his throat. “I saw you pop in here. Wanted to, uh, check in I guess. Today seemed like it was... shitty.” Damn, is that too forward?

Somehow, it breaks up the panic around too-wide eyes and too-tight lips just enough to be encouraging. There’s no verbal response, though, and Kaidan is struggling to figure out how the hell he can help right now.

“Shepard, I’m not sure if… uh, is there… dammit. Do you, uh, wanna talk about anything?” The panic is back, just like that, and while he does a decent job of keeping a straight face, Shepard can’t hide the way his left hand shakes when he clenches his fist.

Kaidan curses himself, forcing calm into his stance and voice. “Hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to. No pressure, okay?” There’s a nod in return as the tension in the room drops back to near-oppressive levels. Shepard closes his eyes and pulls in a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. He’s holding it, and Kaidan can’t help but count to himself, hitting 8 seconds before Shepard is letting it out just as slow from a shaking jaw. Breathing exercises. Good.

He joins in on it, working to maintain a steady pace that they follow until Shepard is finally breathing easily again.

"Okay?" Another nod in return, and it feels like that's the best Kaidan is going to get out of the man. Though he does honestly seem a bit better.

"Okay. I can go if you want?" Please let me stay.

"You can stay…" It's tentative, hoarse, and not entirely convincing.

"Okay, if-"

"I'd like you to stay." The statement is louder, and while still hoarse, Kaidan is sure it's the truth.

"I'll stay," he whispers back, sliding against the door to the closet so he can sit without getting any closer. No need to push right now; they'd made progress.

“Thank you, Kaidan.”

It’s not the right moment, not now, but shit, the way his stomach flips at the sound of his first name is thrilling.

“Of course, John.”

And the way John cracks a thankful smile in response is downright breathtaking.

#thanks for the prompt!!#Jay is allowed to have a bad time #he's sure gonna have a lot of them over the years but #whoops #JayKay #mshenko #before the mshenko #my writing

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secretsaintpoet · 3 years

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People In Parallel

Chapter 2: In Life and Dark

Like any other 16 year old bogged down by the social stipulations of high school drama I also feel trapped. In 2014 life is interesting, the sea of clothes around him is remarkably bland, the hair styles involve all sorts of colors, and the smell, oh the smell would burn your nostrils for days. I remember one day the smells were even more fragrant than usual, the weather was hot, the humidity was so high that I wouldn’t have been surprised if people started to begin to float up as water droplets into the sky. Lets just say that body odor wasn’t just a word that day it was something you could see.

Now, the smells weren’t the only thing keeping my mind occupied, the thought of the oncoming school year was like a train barreling down the tracks ready to hit me smack dab in the stomach. With my best friend Lily moving across the country over the summer the void that was high school felt like it was sucking me in further and further. Ya, I still had a group of friends, so it wasn’t the end of the world I suppose, but in my mind everything felt like it was teetering an uncomfortable amount.

I have never really that much of what some might call a scholar. I usually stayed after school to get help, because my parents might pass a few kidney stones if my grades dropped bellow a B average. They always put so much pressure on me to do well, but I never seemed to get to decided what I got to do well at. They forced me to learn instruments as a kid. I mean sure I am for having kids pick up an instrument, but when you have gone through the entire brass section, the violin, and the piano you think they might take the hint that you don’t have a musical bone in your body. Fortunately, the next logical step was to do sports, because if you aren’t musical then surely you will be good at what I like to call, “voluntary pain and humiliation”. I don’t think I ever really got the hang of the whole coordination thing, so as you might be able to imagine I was benched in every sport except cross country which there isn’t actually a possibility to be benched. Just a very real reality of coming dead last, even behind one kid who broke his leg, but crawled for the last 200 meters.

Now, enough about my lack luster path, this year is going to be different. I am going to do what I love, because finally after trying for years I have finally gotten into Photography 101. Oh the chemical scents, the sensation of a dark room where only the haunting red light guides you. A place to really think and just delve into the magic of expression through images. I have always dreamed about taking pictures of busy streets at night and imagining a story about what each person is doing, why he is walking so quickly and why a woman who seems to be browsing through her phone is following 10 feet behind looking up directly at the mans back. Why a group of school kids is racing down the street spilling hot chocolate all over the ground as a path is made for their chaos to disrupt the ordered disorder of the pedestrians. All in a picture I can see the world and the world is staring right back at me with the honest eyes of a moment. That is exactly what I want and once a week that is what I now get. However, for the rest of the week my life is spanned by the monotony of general education.

Coming out of a trance I hear the last bell signalling the start of the first class. As I walk in I meet eyes with Grace. Grace has been my neighbor for over 12 years now. We used to have play dates because my parents felt that I needed friends and Grace was the closest and best option. Now that I am older I really only thing they sent me away because they didn’t want to hire a nanny. So you could say Grace and I grew up together, although now as soon as our eyes meet she jerks her head down to the scribbles scratched into her desk below. I walk over to my usual seat in the back corner to sit down.

The day goes by as any day would, until over the intercom we are all hushed by, “This is a lockdown”. Worried looks glance around the room as everyone nervously moves swiftly to the areas far from any windows and doors. Our teacher, Mr. Hanson a tall bald man with a speckle or two of gray in his beard, moves to the lights obviously trying to portray calmness, but cracking with his shaking legs and hands.

“He must not have been told about this, so it isn’t a drill.” I think wishing for some other thought to come into my head. None come.

We all sit in the dark, sweaty silence with only the breathing of each other and our own heartbeats beating in our ears to keep us company. Across from me underneath the next table is a boy with a slender face, with an almost ghost like appearance that I bet all of us actually wore. I didn’t know him, but strangely I felt like I could hear his thoughts. I felt like he saw me. He saw what I disliked, what I liked, how Grace, who was sitting next to me, broke my heart in the 4th grade when after I asked to be her boyfriend she went to the movies that same night with Lance Donaldson. I never got over that, I can’t believe my last thought might be about that scummy human. That is what he did to me, he made me love to hate myself. Somehow it felt like I knew myself better when he was staring at me. Either I was staring a bit too intently or I didn’t here someone whispering because his eyes dart to somewhere else in the room where Mr. Hanson is consoling Natalie Barker who is almost in tears.

I suppose this would be a really scary thing if we didn’t have one of these “Lockdowns” every other week. Yes I know we should be prepared, but it is hard when all we get is someone jerking at the door handle and pounding on the door. Right on queue everyone straightens as knuckles pound against the wooden door and the door handle moves up and down frantically. As the noises come to and end the room takes a breath and a small ease comes over everyone. Off in the distance a loud crash. Then one single gun shot. My throat catches blood rushes away from my head. I sit there motionless and everyone else follows suit.

Hours pass with no sound, only the whir of the air conditioning going through its cycles.

“Buses will be here to take you home at 12:00.”. “Please take care.”. “Boy shot dead in Klifton High shooting”. Every news article, question, and statement that day felt the same. Now we were just another school added to the long list of school shootings. The shooter gets no attention in my mind, although the picture of the poor boy who was shot stayed with me. He had a slender face, with eyes that could see me. His name? Jonathon Davis Hentley, JD for short or so I would call him.

22/11/2020

#story

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dungeonmalcontent · 4 years

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There’s a lot of story behind this brew that I’ve added below the cut, but in short this is something to tack on to your barbarian if you decide you don’t want to use weapons and not be totally useless.

So, I have a character I play, one of my first really, that I built with this homebrew class that I found when I was but a 5e noob. Little did I know that that class was really poorly made and did not play well with the rest of the game (not to mention it was an unorganized mess). I didn’t know dandwiki was not where you want to go when you have no idea what you’re doing, either, which is the bigger reason it sucked.

Anyway, I wanted this character to function like a monk with a focus on unarmed attacks. I had heard and loved the story of a luchador themed barbarian character that only punched and grappled grappling a dragon and then “pinning them” while being suspended hundreds of feet in the air and killing them both. But I didn’t want to be a monk, because we already had a monk in the game and monks were more complicated than I was ready for. Eventually I multi-classed this character into barbarian because I thought it would be fun to punch and rage at the same time. The downside of the original homebrew was that the creator never added an extra attack ability to their class, so I was only attacking once per turn... but if I put enough levels into barbarian I could get that extra attack and all the other juicy good stuff. But the multi-class, the more I went into it, became a huge mess and hard to manage because they were already so similar. It didn’t help that the homebrew really only existed for punching power and a slight bonus to intimidation at that point.

So, I made this. A treatise of what I liked about that homebrew that can easily be stapled to the standard 5e barbarian. It’s one ability that functions similar to a monks martial arts and a feat that you can pursue (or talk to your GM and see if you can add it to your level up queue, which would be best at level 6 or 12 probably) to gain additional benefits from using unarmed attacks in combination with your primal path abilities. It could be a huge downside or a huge upside depending on how you use it.

The benefit is that you can add some style into your game play without futzing over things like brass knuckles and even pump up your power a little bit. It’s good flavor and fits better than a punching weapon because it makes ALL of your unarmed attacks better, not just your fists (because it only makes sense that you could turn a kobold into a pancake by headbutting them in a rage). It isn’t more powerful than your standard barbarian with weapons (even with the feat you will likely be doing less damage overall), but it makes the trade off viable for most games. Particularly if you take the feat, you can have a lot of fun with your barbarian without relying on finding magic weapons and armor to carry you through tough encounters.

I am going to talk to my own GM about this and see if they are willing to let me rearrange my poor bugbear puncher a bit. He always was a bit more of a barbarian than a monk, and if I put him in full barbarian it would make it slightly less obnoxious when he tries to land a punch from 15 ft. away (because only a battlerager bugbear with the feat could do that, and my boy is not a battlerager).

#d&d #5e #dungeons and dragons #homebrew #class #barbarian #variant rules #better punching for beefy bois #also support your local protesters and fight systemic racism and oppression #Edit: apparently the old link was to a version I somehow did not save to my homebrewery account and it was just floating in the aether #This new link is to an update-able version

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bleeding-antlers · 5 years

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Me, I’m Not Myself Anymore

Trigger Warning; - minor/major injures (descriptive) - violence - major character death

Character(s); - Original Male Character (Just a random dude) - Psychopath!Bedbanana (Referred as Tanner) https://archiveofourown.org/works/19479043

A violent swing to someone's neck was all that Tanner needed right now. The sweet release of destructiveness from having blood spilled all over the floor or on his hands was a great need as his stress was all under his skin, crawling at his throat and emotions with the feel of irritation and frustration bottling up in his chest.

It was a night that didn’t go as planned. Everything seemed to crash on top of Tanner’s head, making him work harder and harder until his breaking point. He needed something to calm down. Whether or not he could take the easy way by just working out in the gym, go outside for a jog, play video games, or talk with friends, but he thought the sight of blood being smeared on a knife or bat was his only option.

It hadn't just started with a bloody site in his living room, he was a busy man even before the violent outcome he's done. He had errands to finish, a book to read and a song from Andrew's playlist to listen on repeat, but of course that all cut short when madness spewed inside his brain, letting in a psycho, crazy feeling to Tanner's day.

He managed to finally tick, his vision being blurred with redness and his hands had a mind of their own. He wasn't in-control of his body. The amount of pure hatred and vicious thoughts that ran into his head was abnormal for the guy. Even if playing games had made him play that part of a crazy killer, it never really meant he wanted to do harm to other people. Yet, he was bloodthirsty. A man who wanted to see blood spilled upon his hands.

His first victim was someone he spotted at a bar he went to, seeing as it was the easiest to approach someone and catch them off guard in a busy environment. It took some patience, but with steady conversations and Tanner’s charming looks being easily portrayed towards the boy, which had told him his name; Quentin, was one of his deadly ways of letting the other trust Tanner.

With a slip of some powdered substance that he spilled in the others drink when he had turned away to watch a dancer, he finally got his victim.

All it was now, for Tanner to convince the drugged victim to come to his house. It was easy, since the man’s head was all clouded within seconds of nonsense and the feeling of being extremely intoxicated was especially overtaking the boy.

Tanner raised the mask that hid his identity when Quentin began growing conscious from the substance that Tanner had slipped into the man's drink at the bar. He had a wide, twisted smirk laying on his lips, hidden away from his hostage when the man finally focused on Tanner with his eyes quickly widening. The mask was handmade by one of his trusty friends. It was a cat mask, almost like his icon everyone sees on his social media but more so in a Japanese-esc style.

“O-oh, God.. What’s happening? Who are you!?”

The other was shaking like a frightened puppy in a thunderstorm almost instantly, his voice was high with fear as his eyes roamed around the room and back at Tanner, though not before a quick glance down to Tanner’s weapon in his hand.

Tanner didn’t say anything, only standing there with the bat lifting and falling into the palm of his other hand, in a threatening but also fun manner. His eyes were filled with anticipation for what was going to happen.

The amount of blood he’ll be seeing and the sound of a cracking skull was thrilling to him that he couldn’t wait, but… at first, he wanted to tease the hostage, just for a little bit.

He approached Quentin in the chair, which of course got him riling up, he kept pleading towards Tanner, wanting him to spare his life even if it was too late to say that. Tanner already caught him, like a fly in a spider’s web, and even if he managed to get his sanity back, he still wouldn’t let Quentin go.

That’s risky.

Tanner stopped playing with the bat, pushing it out of his other hand’s palm and raised it, getting a reaction from Quentin as he flinched and whimpered, though Tanner didn’t dare hit him yet. He put down the baseball bat against the chair that Quentin was trapped in.

Instead, Tanner moved to grab a cloth that was lying on the floor. Before he would abuse the boy, he needed to shut him up. He didn’t want his neighbours hearing the commotion of screams in his house, so he wrapped the cloth around Quentin’s mouth, acting as a gag.

Before he could even wrap the piece of cloth around the boy’s face, he tried biting Tanner’s fingers.

“Ow-ah, hey! Now, now, Quentin… that’s not very nice,”

Tanner chuckled under the mask he wore, ruffling the others hair before forcing the others head back with him pulling at the blond locks, and stuffing the cloth into Quentin’s mouth.

He accidentally pushed too far since Quentin gagged, making Tanner pull back.

"Oh, so sorry, baby~ didn’t mean to do that. Not yet at least."

As if Tanner wanted to go easy on the poor lad. Even if what Tanner had heard from the bar about Quentin's life, he seemed like a chill guy, maybe too chill, but that didn't matter anymore.

Quentin whimpered into the cloth that was balled up in his mouth.

"Okay… Don't you dare spit that out, you fucking got it?" He threatened with a finger pointing at Quentin, close to his face and wiggling, "you don't want to make me angry, do you?"

There was no response from the boy, other than a teardrop going down his cheek and a muffled sob being heard.

That's all what Tanner wanted. To see someone scared out of their mind for their life. It was riling him up that the pressure of finally seeing bloodshed was rising up too much, he was basically bouncing up and down.

Going back over to his coffee table where lied multiple objects such as knives and some brass knuckles that he stole from his friend, Jared's place. Tanner hummed a song, a happy, child-like song that made his toe tap on the wooden floor as he contemplated on what weapon he wanted to use. Eventually, he grabbed a small kitchen knife, one to use for cutting steak. A chuckle was heard from Tanner as he raised the sharp object to his peripheral view and began walking back towards his hostage.

That's when Quentin started squirming in the chair. With all his might, he tried escaping his abuser, though the ropes that hugged his wrists, chest and legs were tightly tied, so tight that the ropes were almost able to cut circulation.

Tanner waved the knife in front of his victim, glistening from his lamp shining against the sharp point of the weapon.

He went closer to Quentin's skin, the tip dipping slightly into his cheek as he gently scraped the edge of the knife down the boys face, down to his neck and chest. It wasn't pushed far enough to make Quentin bleed, only to rattle the other. “ You are so pretty, Quentin… Too bad I’ll have to torture you.” The steak knife finally punctured through skin at the edge of his torso, on his side just below the ribs, the first layer being broken and the blood cells trying to protect the open wound but spewing out of the indented cut mark. Tanner noticed the instant shock that Quentin went through, his face turning pale as a ghost and his eyes becoming red with hot tears rolling down his cheeks and onto his chest. A sharp, muffled scream escaping his throat from the throbbing sensation of having a knife being inside him.

A chuckle was breathed out and Tanner lifted up the knife, only to drag it to a different spot, this time, the blade’s tip cutting through until he found a good spot to forcefully prick the knife into the other side. It was a rough impact, more blood dripping out and fully covering Tanner’s weapon.

Cries were the only sounds in the room, which started to bother Tanner, pulling out his knife and threatening at Quentin’s Adam's apple, an animistic growl coming out of his mouth.

“Oh my god, can’t you just stay quiet? You’re so annoying with your fucking crying and shit …” He muttered under gritted teeth, “ Fuck. Here, hold onto this,” and with that, Tanner placed the knife into Quentin’s leg, letting it pierce through the tough layers and letting it stick out without him holding it, even though he did demand him to do so.. The other screamed, his face turning now greenish, becoming sick from the pain and his bloody sides and leg.

Tanner walked away from his hostage, his back away from the other for a few minutes as he went to his home speaker, his phone being clicked into the aux cord so he could blast some music out-loud, only to drown out Quentin's annoying, girlish, screams. Oh! He almost forgot, he needed to listen to Andrew's new playlist. Guess now is the best time for it, so with going into Spotify and clicking on the saved playlist, he shuffled it, letting whatever was the first song to automatically play. Knowing the classic rock song that was playing, he hummed to the beat, his gaze becoming more narrow as he looked over at his victim, seeing the mess of his facial expression. He was already losing conscious. Wow, what a weakling. Before he even approached Quentin again, he went back to the coffee table, picking out a bigger weapon than the steak knife, as the little, sharp, object wasn't really pleasing him as much. Fingers dancing along the blade's sharper side. This was all fun and games, his grin was wide, cheeky and malicious.

Cutting closer to Quentin again, he kept the knife in his leg, letting it stick there.

"Wow! What a good boy you are, you didn't drop the knife!" He chirped excitedly, talking in a baby-like tone. His fingers walking from the machete and up to Quentin's hair, running his slender, soft fingers in the wavy locks before gripping at them again, "you better stay with me, dear, I'm not done messing with you yet."

A ghosting whine interrupted his hearing after the short song stopped and went on to queue up the next upcoming one. Tanner inched away from Quentin, his hand no longer on top of his head and the Kukri machete scraping against the boy's forearm, the long, slightly bent weapon managed to not scratch the bare arm, until Tan went down to the man's fingers, the broad tip, scratching Quentin's knuckles. Clearly, Quentin was clenching his hands into fists, but that certainly didn't stop Tanner from gripping with his other hand at the boy's fingers, letting them spread out on the chair's arm.

"Look at those finger's of yours..." He purred, his head tilting to the side in fake awe before he held onto the pinkie and slashed the digit off, a thump being heard as it fell to the floor, blood spraying and spewing out of the now missing finger, "too bad you're losing them~" and with that, Quentin gagged, threatening to throw up due to the amount of panic and pain going through his system, but he was weak. He had no strength anymore. He couldn't even cry. Tanner began cutting off the rest, starting over with the thumb and working back to the ring finger.

With nothing being on Quentin's right hand anymore, he continued to do the rest on the other hand, though, with Quentin fidgeting for the last time in awhile, urging him to stop, he grew irritated again, finally infuriating him to an extent and cutting the entire hand off. This made blood spill more blood spraying onto his already bloody shirt and mask. The red substance was everywhere now. A growing puddle forming under the chair that Quentin was strapped in.

Quentin was finally giving in, his eyes were white, rolling back, and turning lifeless, his face was pale as ever and his body now limping from the extended suffering he had to endure, but Tanner wasn't done. He wasn't complete yet. He still needed more blood. More blood to splatter everywhere.

"Jeez, hold tight for one more moment, Quentin."

Tanner rolled his eyes under his mask. This guy really couldn't last that long, but honestly, Tanner never really inquired to actually kidnap someone and torture them. It was his first.

The knife in Quentin's leg was finally pulled out, and it was certainly held in his leg for a really long time as it took a few tugs to have it free again, it was stiff and covered in disgusting substances, but that didn't stop him from abruptly slashing at his thorax, a bunch of stabbing marks being made at the middle of Quentin's chest, repeatedly being forced into his skin until his arms became tired and let the knife drop out of his hand and onto the floor.

A big exhale was made from Tanner, catching his breath for a quick second before finally reaching out for the bat that was knocked down due to the commotion of Quentin moving a lot. The bat had already been covered in gooey redness, the liquid dripping down and onto the gripper as Tanner lifted it up.

"You know ... It was nice meeting you, Quentin. You were such a fun guy. I hope you don't haunt my place though after I kill you."

He teased, though it didn't really get recognized by the other as he was already fading from existence.

So, it was finally time to end this. With Tanner raising the bat into a ready position that batter's go into to his ball, he swung the metal sports object at the other's head, instantly knocking out Quentin with a large thud at the cranium. A cracking sound finally blissfully filling Tanner's ears as he hit the now lifeless persons head again. And again. And Again...

After being out of breath, and bones sticking out of the boy's head, the brain being slightly shown on the side, he called it quits. Letting the bat down, with a tired sigh.

"Goodnight .. Quentin. " He muttered under his breath, his mask being lifted off of his face and placed on Quentin's lap, letting the bloody cat mask stay put there as he went over to the speaker once again, picking up his phone with bloody, dripping fingers as he dialed a number; a familial number.

"Hey! Lawlman, yeah, I have some cleaning I need you to help me with."

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indomitablemegnolia · 5 years

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He pulled a quarter from his pocket; rolling it over his knuckles, smoothly, not even looking, "oh I got this," he pulled out a pink cupcake, "happy birthday, they don't have candles, so just make a wish and you can have it." he pushed the box my direction.

"Oh wow, I dunno the last time anyone really remembered my birthday, except my mum and dad."

"Now, that is a sad commentary, now make a wish, make it a good one." I closed my eyes, scrunching my entire face, opening them with a giggle.

He handed me the cupcake, I bowed my head accepting it. "Thank you." I stopped myself from tearing up. I fished my debit card out of my pocket, "As with all things, it is always better when shared." I sliced it in half offering him half.

"I Love the way your world works." He eyed my debit card, I licked the frosting off of one side. We shared another one of those soul deep looks; I wish I could stop staring at the way his lips parted as he took a bite of the cupcake, at the pink frosting clinging to his top lip; the delicious way his tongue sweeps out collecting the sweetness, the wet seductive sheen it leaves on his mouth before the pad of his thumb wipes it away. I pushed the back of my fingertip through the little girl pink frosting, bringing the finger to my mouth, the overly sweet strawberry flavor greeting my tongue; I could imagine the flavour of his tongue; I giggled.

"What was that thought? Curiosity goes wild with wonder at that giggle?"

I shrugged, and lied, "A stupid quote." I tippled my beautiful fantasy, keeping it close to my heart; it made it to my brain quickly, more potent than any alcohol. I have to admit that I am addicted to the way he watches my every move.

"Oh yeah," he leaned in close, "what quote?"

"Just Tennyson, 'I am only merry for an hour or two; upon a birthday: if this life of ours, be a good glad thing, why should we make us merry, because a year of it is gone?" I took a liberating breath, "but Hope smiles from the threshold of the year to come, whispering ‘It will be happier;’ and old faces; Press round us, and warm hands close with warm hands, and thro’ the blood the wine leaps to the brain' kind of the way I hope things work, but they never do." I took a drink of my coffee.

"I do wish I could have found some wine for our first date."

I chuckled derisively, "First date..." god his size especially those shoulders beginning to dwarf me.

"Yes, first date," he sounded wistful, "a fantastic quote, but I doubt that was the cause of that giggle, but happy birthday."

I laughed keeping that delicious thought to my self "And a very merry unbirthday to you." I look a bite from my cupcake; his thumb, the same one from his lips, swiping that pink heaven from my lip; my tongue darted out to greet the touch; I heard him suck air between his teeth. I flinched rolling my eyes away from that suddenly heated gaze, that big bad wolf grin.

I made a frustrated noise, "Sorry." I fumbled out awkwardly, I busied my hands fidgeting with my cupcake, pinching a piece off nibbling.

"Oh, I hope you are not;" he leaned even closer, "curiosity looks beautiful on you; strong, decisively moving toward what you want." His voice somehow deeper, closer more intimate; "I have a curiosity of my own; that birthday wish..." he stroked his fantastic lips with those two delicious fingers, "what was it?" He pushed the remainder of his half past those delicious lips.

"Oh no;" I swiped a little frosting, absently shaking my head; he nodded, "nope," I shook my head furiously, "nope, can't tell if you tell it won't come true."

"Ah, honey, but how many times have you wished and held to that rule?" I chewed my lip, "By that look, I would guess all of your life;" I nodded dreading that truth; "I am no one, not even a name, maybe in keeping with your new M.O. you should buck that old trend, I might help it come true."

Without waiting a beat, I levelled a judging gaze on him, "A million dollars." I crossed my arms waiting, "so, where is that brass lamp there genie?"

"Woah, hell of a cop out, fine, keep your wish, I wanted to hear more of your world unfold."

I sat back, disappointed with myself, I chewed the tip of my index finger, frosting flavour lingering. "I am sorry, that was rude; I dunno what got into me, cynicism must be getting to me, it's just habit I guess." I sighed, "it's a stupid wish, but on every star, every birthday candle, every water destined coin, I wish the same sappy stupid wish; I wish for happiness."

He chuckled, not mocking, "Well honey, the universe might just find that a bit vague," he ran his hands through his hair, "a little ambiguous; it might need just a bit more detail."

I laughed, licking cake from my fingers "You think you know the universe better than me, huh?"

He leaned in, "Maybe," his hand rubbing on the thigh of his jeans, "I'm just saying, if you were a wish-granting spirit, details as to what your happiness is might be prudent;" he touched my hand; "let's just assume that they have been granting them this whole time using Mangalas definition of happiness."

I snerked lightly, "Huh, you seem to understand my luck." I sighed and acquiesced, "okay, fine, happiness would be softness, accept..." I trailed off; shaking my head, dropping my hands to my lap resigned.

He let out a small frustrated noise, "No, what happened there?" He reached out carefully to caress my cheek, "you were just starting, but then... you stopped as if you talked yourself out of happiness."

"Yeah, I suppose I actually might have." I chuckled sadly, "it is hard, it might sound fake, disenchanted, even a little too pat; just that it is like defining delicious."

"Now, it's peculiar that of all the words you choose that particular morsel, one that has been not been far from my mind most of this conversation. Delicious, delicate, from Latin delicia, plural deliciae," I shivered, staring at him, that big bad wolf grin swallowing his face, "I always bump up against," his wide shoulders bumped mine perfectly on queue as he leaned in taking my hand in a soft caress; "a word with a cooperative meaning; a flavoured heaven that is sweetly delicate and pleasing to the senses. A delight, an allurement, to charm, to allure, to entice." He pressed a kiss to my palm; "if you ask me that definition applies to you;" it was no longer a shiver as if my entire body was vibrating. "If you ask me that was rather easy to define. Now, let's try happiness." His playlist continued the supple electro sounds of Moby, Natural Blues. I subconsciously giggled.

He continued caressing my hand, his fingers tracing along my very awake skin. "What brings you, you personally, to the state of being happy?" His eyes bore straight into my soul. "You seem to be one of those even friends would say, 'she struggled to find happiness in her life', rather unfairly; the truth is you know life is harsh, and you find and treasure the little shining moments that bring," kissing my palm again, "contentment," the base of my thumb "pleasure," punctuating each word with a kiss "joy," the inside of my wrist "cheerfulness," he continued up my arm "merriment, gaiety, joy, joviality, glee, blitheness, carefreeness, gladness, delight" his voice reverberated along my shoulder, his breath thrilling my skin, "fulfilment" he kissed the spot on my neck that left me boneless, "satisfaction."

I gasped, my body shivered my neck involuntarily opening for his lips, finally, words began to spill from my throat; my voice raspy, foreign, "I am tired of being forgotten, invisible, unknown, unaccepted. I want just a connection, a single human who can see me; a friend, a lover, hell a stranger, who sees me; who will remember me; I know this sounds pathetic, but that is my most honest answer." I gobbled the last of the cupcake.

"Oh I like that answer, it is not pathetic; those are human needs. I was kind of hoping for some guilty pleasure. I wanted a further look into your world, but I find you, even more, match the definition of delicious, an alluring strength, with a fragility; sturdy, but delicate," His face just so earnest, "whipped cream on strong espresso," he framed my face with his hands. "You have been seen, I see you, I am.." he hesitation, "drawn to you;" he kissed my cheek, "and this night will be remembered, you will be remembered; if kept ever safe from the world in my mind." I sat stunned staring at him; it was as an ancient Greek god had stepped from the clouds.

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lonewolfwriter · 7 years

Text

A Taste Of Hazel Chapter 8

Fangmyer left Nick knowing full well he better get back to the office and face his punishment. He had even prepared, by taking off his tie and taking his badge from his wallet.

He starred longingly at the shiny brass that had ZPD etched deep into it. “I became a cop to protect...” he muttered sadness washing over him as he thought back to all the horrible wrong the ZPD had done to Nick.

“This has been my whole life” he explained to himself, thinking of how he would let this badge drop into the hands of the likes of one Jack Savage.

As he starred at the badge he remembered back to high school, being bashed for being in love, he knew Nicks pain, he could feel it each time he looked into his friends eyes. But if the ZPD has changed from protecting the innocent and hiring the scum, then Fangmyer knew, he would gladly hand over the badge.

He got to the ZPD and as soon as he entered the front doors Chuck was sitting on the front counter; Clawhauser’s desk, holding an ice pack to his eyes, Delgato patting his back. His face looked like an artist got mad at a block of clay and simply went to work on it with his fists.

As Fangmyer strolled through the door both Chuck and Delgato look to him, only when he was inside did he notice Jack standing offside, with a notepad in his paws taking down a statement, Fangmyer reached into his back pocket preparing to hand over his badge.

Jack followed Delgato and Chuck’s gaze before turning back to Chuck.

“And you didn’t get a good look at the guy?” quizzed Jack with a disbelieving glance. Chuck and Delgato, whose eyes stayed poised on Fangmyer, simply nodded in agreement to Jack’s statement.

He flicked the notepad shut turning to look at Fangmyer.

“Odd” is all Jack stated, his eyes giving a quick glance to Fangmyer’s swollen knuckles.

“Take him and get him stitched up” ordered Jack pivoting to point at Delgato and Chuck.

Delgato and Chuck both got up heading for the door, neither set of their eyes leaving Fangmyer, who had to struggle to hold back a hiss.

“Tragic isn’t it” interrupted Jack, catching Fangmyer’s attention “the streets are a dangerous place, looks like the new recruit learnt that the hard way”, Jacks eyes scrutinised Fangmyer as he spoke.

“Yeah, better to learn rules like that early on” confirmed Fangmyer.

“So what are you doing back?” pried Jack, flicking his sleeve up to check his watch.

“You aren’t meant to be on break for another hour and a half”

Fangmyer casually held up his ticket machine, “Out of paper” he lied, playing the game Jack so obviously wanted to play.

“You’re a good officer Fangmyer; but you better watch your actions and attitude”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to Jack” replied Fangmyer

“Chief” corrected Jack “Chief Savage, and I’m talking about how you have been conducting yourself and please keep your anger under control”

“Your one to talk” muttered Fangmyer.

“What was that?” asked Jack raising his ear, as if he didn’t hear Fangmyer but so obviously did.

Fangmyer took a deep breath; “I said, sir yes sir”.

“Good, get back to those cars” dismissed Jack.

Fangmyer turned and went to leave, a demonic, victories grin made its way across Jacks lips.

“Fangmyer?”

Fangmyer turned “Yes sir?” he grumbled with as much respect in his tone as he could muster.

“I thought you needed more paper?”

Fangmyer turned and feigned a smile, annoyed he had been caught out, but he kept his cool “That’s correct, thank you Jack” he confirmed as he walked past Savage to head to the stationary cupboard to go get more parking ticket paper.

“Chief” corrected Savage as Fangmyer past him.

Fangmyer froze next to him; “Thank you, Chief” said Fangmyer trying to keep his cool.

“One last thing Fang’s”

“Fangmyer” corrected Fangmyer staring down on the rodent.

“Fangmyer”, corrected Jack.

Jack went to speak, he needed to ask Fangmyer, he needed to know if Nick was okay, for his daughter …and himself , but then he heard it, he heard Nick speak into his ear; the voice coming from over his should; soft and ominous.

Jacks eyes stayed poised forward and his mouth hung open.

Fangmyer went to get angry when he saw the look on Jacks face, and by god he knew the look, it was the same look, the look he had seen a thousand times, the look Darla had given him when her brother and his friends bashed him and put him in hospital, guilt.

Fangmyer took a knee placing his giant paw on Jacks shoulder as he sat paralysed, stunned like a fish out of water. Jack cranked his neck against some deathly invisible force to look at Fangmyer, hoping for comfort.

Fangmyer leaned in deep so his mouth was right in Jacks ear, the overbearing shadow of Nick’s ghost whispered frantically in one ear from behind him and Fangmyer whispered into his left from in front.

“Act tough all you want, but I see through you Savage….If you think the guilt of what you have done goes away Jack, it doesn’t”

Fangmyer pulled back slowly, a strained tear gently rolling down the fur of Jacks face. Fangmyer tapped him twice on the shoulder, simply got up and walked away, Jack simply swaying with the taps standing silent and cold starring into the void.

“Have a good day Chief” called back Fangmyer heading for the door.

Jacks scrapped at the barrel for something to yell back but came back empty, turning and running towards his office, his alcohol and his meds.

Nick was going through store after store; searching racks of clothing for a nice uniform he could wear. Each time he would enter another shop, cruel judgmental glances and whispers would follow; Nick however ignored the scrutiny and drew strength from one thought, the eyes of a vixen, that he pictured watching him, with care and grace.

He stood in front of a rack in K-9mart, a confused and frustrated look plastered to his face, he held a blue shirt in one paw and a black shirt held in the other, they were the exact same shirt apart from colour.

“Excuse me” he whispered gesturing a paw in the air to get one of the worker’s attention. He was ignored by the workers however a very fuzzy and well dressed she wolf noticed his pleas and smiled walking toward Nick.

As the wolf approached Nick her smile became concealing across her face; as if she recognised Nick. She was white as snow, with blue eyes and dressed extremely elegantly.

She promptly walked over “Hello, Maybe I can help?” she asked while chewing gum.

Nick went to reply but was taken off; he could see a sly smirk in the corner of her mouth, she was much younger then Nick, but her eyes danced over him.

Nick held both shirts out, “Which colour do you think would suit me?”

The she-wolf smiled taking a knee; grabbing both, placing them over his chest before changing to the other colour.

“Hmm” she began “Depends” she finally conceded.

“On what” Asked Nick

“What’s it for? I mean this one would be a good going out shirt” she explained holding up the blue shirt to his torso.

“It’s for a job interview” he confirmed.

“Doing?”

“Bar tending…hopefully”.

She smiled, “Oh, that’s easy, definitely the black”.

“You should try it on?” continued the wolf.

Nick felt self-conscious, he knew he stunk, he knew his clothes were tattered and old, and yet this she-wolf gazed upon him, with such admiration that it made Nick kind of uncomfortable.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” he quizzed abruptly; unable to take the odd behaviour any longer, looking around as if it was a big joke about to be played on him.

The she-wolf; had an all too bright smile, like she had been waiting for Nick to ask that question. The wolf went chest to chest with him before she knelt right next to him and put her muzzle to his ear “I know who you are Nicholas Wilde” she whispered with a cute, seductive wink as she pulled away.

Without another word, she reached her paw to her own ear and began to undo one of her love heart shaped earring.

“If you’re going to work in a bar, you’ll need an earring”.

Without any consent, she pushed the earring through Nick’s ear, who flinched back only a little. Before she licked his ear two or three times wiping away the blood, she stood back to admire her handy work.

“There you go, much better” she confirmed.

She placed her paw to the side of Nicks face “See you later cutie” she said kissing his cheek; as she slid her paw across his face and turned to walk away.

Nick stood stunned and completely confused, he gently moved his paw up, touching the piercing, his ear hurt only a little.

“Who the hell?” he spoke to himself completely at a loss of who the she-wolf was.

By the time Nick finished shopping and the she wolf was no longer in his thoughts, Nick had bought several loads of clothes, changing into a new shirt and pants and throwing the old ones away, although he had been scrutinised the entire time he was shopping, he was happy that he was refreshed.

He had bought a green shirt with leaves over it, as similar to his old clothes as he could get, and some generic brown slacks.

However, he did not wear these, instead he sported a black shirt and pants, thinking that, this uniform would be more proper to go to a job interview in. He was walking down the street, several bags of clothes in his paws, a bottle of aftershave, toothbrush and comb and his old tatty bag he had gone back to the park to collect; flung over his shoulders. He felt on top of the world with the little he had.

He got to the watering Hole and waited outside, it was only 2:00 and he knew he had to be there at 5. He had some money left and saw a small coffee stand just down the ways, he leisurely made his way to it and waited in queue.

He got to the front and there was a Rhino and a Buffalo both talking. “Hello sirs” he greeted.

“Oh great another fox” grumbled the Rhino, ceasing to talk and looking away while the Buffalo turned to Nick. “Hey can’t you-”

“See you were talking?” finished Nick, “perhaps you should be working instead” he snapped.

The buffalo pulled his head back insulted “Excuse me?”

Nick pointed a claw; he knew the Buffalo and Rhino didn’t remember him, but Nick sure remembered them. They were the same two that had made Nick wait to speak to a manager when he had gone for a job once before. Only to find out he was being made to waste his time.

“You heard me” Nick growled “You shouldn’t be talking during work, you should be serving”.

“Oh yeah, or what?”

Nick thought for a moment before he remembered a very specific scenario that had worked a charm, in a similar situation.

Nick smirked dropping his ear to the side a sincere look on his face projecting his voice for all to hear.

“I’m so glad you asked! I mean are your customers aware you were found to be using stale bread thrown away by the bakery?” he explained walking over to a table and gesturing to an armadillo eating a sandwich. The Armadillo looked at the shop owner, opening her mouth so a slop of half chewed sandwich fell onto her plate; she placed the rest of sandwich down and walked away from their al fresco Cafe.

Nick flicked a claw in the air and took centre stage now that all eyes were on him; “Or how about the worse fact that this rhino” gestured Nick to the Rhino standing next to the owner, “is selling you homemade rhino milk to make your coffee…isn’t that against regulation? Section 12 of the food act clearly states you need to be buying from a pasteurised and certified business, not a friend” he accused.

He paused for a moment for dramatical effect, leaning against a table “And male rhinos for that matter” added Nick matter of factly, leaning casually on a table where other animals sat.

“Male Rhino’s don’t have milk” interjected one customer with a coffee in hoof.

Nick gave him a sympathetic glare; “I know…” he explained gently rubbing his claw across a table, a look of apologetic regret on his face.

Nick heard one customer who sat at a seat spit his coffee out; understanding what Nick was trying to say. Nick trying with all his strength not to blurt out laughter.

The Buffalo and Rhino stood shocked at Nick’s allegations.

“We’ll now that this is done, I bid you adieu” he confirmed saluting them before strolling off pleased with himself. He looked back to shout one last thing over his shoulder “I hope business goes well, hang in there”.

As he walked away he saw several customers also get up and leave. The Buffalo and Rhino yelling at him as he walked away, while simultaneously being swamped with customers demanding refunds.

Nick sat on a bench across from the watering hole, a gleeful feeling deep in his gut, this is the Nick he knew, this was the Nick he remembered. He had not felt so alive in so long that it was making him shake with happiness.

He checked the watch he bought, he had only fifteen minutes to wait, he thought he would head in early to show promptness and that he was keen.

Nick entered the pub the rickety door creaking open, inside the air was stale and smelt of old beer he poked his head in but couldn’t see anyone. A cool breeze seeming to be ever present in the waterin Hole atmosphere; likely because the air-con above the bar was always pumping.

“Hello” he whispered in a shout.

“Oh hey sweetie, come in” came a voice from seemingly nowhere.

Nick walked in, the door shutting gently behind him, from behind the bar stood Pricilla, a tray of glasses in her grasp.

“Hey stranger” she yipped gleefully placing the glasses on the top of the bar, before walking around and giving Nick the tightest hug he had ever felt.

“Hey” he nervously replied, hugging her back.

“Nickie” she sighed “what happened ta you? I never got a cawl? And now you show up oudda thin air, how ya bin?”

Nick didn’t reply he just shook his head.

“Dat bad huh? ere have a beer” she offered walking back behind the bar, she raised a glass and began pouring him an ale.

Nick was going to decline, he hadn’t drank beer in such a long time, but by the time he went to protest the glass was half full and he felt his throat beg for the cool indulgence.

The crisp white head frothed over the top sliding down the side of the glass and the glass instantly became moist with dew, the bronze colour and tip of the beer showed it was a perfect pour, obviously hours of practise, she placed the beer on a coaster and slid it in front of Nick, who watched as the bubbling carbon dioxide made its way from the base of the glass to the head of the beer.

“Thank you” he stated taking a seat at the bar grabbing his lower back as he sat, a slight nerve pain shooting up his spine. He grabbed the beer in the other paw and tilted his head back to let the moist beverage make its way down his throat, the tingling in his back slightly subsiding, he downed half the beer when he stopped to take a breath.

“Whoa, easy tiger, you might choke” giggled Pricilla.

Nick put the glass down and took an almighty huff to get his breath back.

Pricilla proceeding to only laugh louder as Nickie now sat on the bar stool with a foam moustache made from the froth of the beer.

Nick looked down at what she was laughing and pointing at, he rolled his eyes with a smile and wrapped his tongue around his lips to clear it.

They both chuckled and as the chuckles slowly subsided the conversation became more serious.

“What happened der?” quizzed Pricilla, noticing the pain inflicted on Nickie simply trying to take a seat.

“I got shot in the back” he explained coldly “three times…”

Nick wrapped his paws around the cold glass and took another swig, it had been years since he had a drink.

“So, whacha afta anywayz?”

“Just some work” explained Nick.

“Day shift, night shift?”

Nick laughed a little, he gathered that Pricilla didn’t understand that he was at her mercy, or perhaps she did realise and was simply being kind.

“Any shift”.

“Okay sweetheart, I’ll put tagether a rosta for ya and we’ll get ya started ASAP, Most likely night shift, cause you’re a fox and you’ll mainly be doing bar work, cause I don’t think youd be able ta do any security work wit dat injury you got, hows dats sound?””

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve heard for a very long time” he confirmed. There was a paused, while Nick thought of one other thing “Pricilla?”

“Ye Nickie?”

“Do you guys have rooms here?”

“Coarse we do sweetheart, whys dat?”

Nick drank the rest of his drink; Pricilla had done right by him, the least he could do was let her know why he never called. Once he had finish his beer he proceeded to explain all that had happened to him to Pricilla, throughout Nick’s story her face went from horror to shock to anger to pity and by the end she simply reached into her apron and placed down a small keychain on the bar her eyes moist with tears.

“You can stay ere for as long as you need sweetheart” she confirmed with her hand over her mouth, she had never heard such dread from anyone before or seen a fox look so hollow.

Nick picked up the keys in his paws, holding them and just starring for the longest moment before he looked to Pricilla with reverence

“Thank you” he choked.

She just nodded, sniffing, trying to compose herself.

“You’re on the third floor, room 21”

“What about payment?”

Pricilla wiped her tears on her apron and feigned a laugh “Don’t be a dunce Nickie”

Nick smiled holding the key close to his chest walking to the stair case and going up to find his room.

As he was about to be out of site Pricilla called out.

“You can do a practise shift on the weekend if you’d like?”

Nick turned poking his head out so only his shoulder and head were visible from the doorway and with a smile replied “That would be awesome”.

Nick went to leave when Pricilla called him and he poked his head out once more.

“I like your ear ring Nickie, it suits you”

Nick had completely forgot the earring and flicked his ear to bring it to eye level, starring at the love heart, he smiled at Pricilla putting his ear back in place, but then his thoughts became congested by the thought of who the she-wolf was once again as he headed up to his new room.

It was seven o’clock and Jack turned his computer off grabbing his coat and rubbing his red, sore eyes, his meds making him drowsy and the hidden bottle in his desk not helping by any stretch of the imagination.

“Long day captain?”

“Always” he confirmed looking up; only to see the room was empty.

“Nooo, Nooo” he grumbled, sluggishly making his way over to his desk, going to his top draw and taking out some more medication; taking three tablets. He walked over to the wall collapsing against it and placing his eyes in his paws.

“Just stop” he pleaded.

“Stop what?” asked a familiar voice.

Jack cautiously looked up, fearing he would see his haunting illusions; however he looked up from his paw to see Clawhauser standing in the room.

“How long have you been there?” asked Jack

“I just walked in?” confirmed Clawhauser.

“What do you want?” continued Jack; trying to sound professional, but realising he was sprawled out on the floor leaning on the wall.

“Aaare you okay sir?” questioned Clawhauser a little concerned. “Fine, just tired, what do you want?”

Clawhauser reached into a folder and pulled out a small booklet of papers stapled together; handing it to Jack.

“Is this okay?” he asked

Jack took the book, flicking through the pages, checking prices and what the place had to offer”

“If you want this one I need to lock it in, they need three months for a party of this size”

Without a thought, Jack just nodded handing it back to him “Set up for like 7:00pm, put on a bar tab, food, the works”

“Got it” confirmed Clawhauser going to leave.

“Oh, and Clawhauser”

Clawhauser stopped in the door; turning to listen to Jack.

“Try and keep the surprise party a surprise this year” chuckled Jack.

Clawhauser chuckled nervously and saluted “Yes sir, I’ll try sir”.

Jack dragged himself to his feet once Clawhauser had left, he took a few deep breathes, keeping his eyes poised on the exit, before heading for the door; ignoring the shadow that sat swivelling in his chair, in his peripherals.

Maria had finished four hours earlier then Jack and sat at home with Alison, they were on the sofa watching a movie together, ‘A fox tales”, Alison’s favourite movie.

They sat eating popcorn and Alison was quoting the movie word for word. Maria smiled, as her daughter sat in awe at the characters on the screen.

“You know, this was you fathers favourite movie and he use to do the same thing, he was able to quote every single word of this movie”

Alison, who was only partially listening, picked up the remote and paused the movie, a strange look on her face.

“What?” she asked, not hearing what her mum had said or thinking she misheard her.

“I said this was your father’s favourite movie, he loved watching this” repeated Maria with a deep smile, that was soon washed away at the look on Alison’s face.

“Dad HATES this movie” Alison confirmed.

Maria was confused for a moment before she realised her mistake, Nick loved a fox tales…. Not Jack.

Maria quickly giggled, slapping a paw to her forehead “Oh silly me-” she confirmed

“Must have been another movie similar to this that your father liked. Ha-ha popcorn?”.

Alison nodded reaching her tiny paw into the bowl; pressing play on the remote with her other paw, but felt something deep inside her guts twist.

Maria sat in bed once the movie was over and Alison had been tucked in. she was reading a new book that was on the top of the best sellers “A wolf in sheep’s clothing” it was about a wolf and a sheep who had fallen in love, the wolf having been killed by his pack for loving someone he shouldn’t have. She had gone through twelve pages when her eyes closed.

“Say slick” began Judy as she and Nick watched ‘A fox tales’ “what would you name your kids if you had any?”

“Oh you know me carrots, kids are annoying brats!” he confirmed; waving his paw at her dismissively.

“Naw, come on Nick, just imagine you found the girl of your dreams, what would you call your little Nicks?” she asked again as she walked off to make more popcorn

Nick sat starring at Judy as she danced around the kitchen; “Alison, I would call our daughter Alison” he whispered

“Huh?”

Nick shook his head with a laugh “My daughter, Alison would be her name and if I had a boy, probably Jasper” he explained with a nervous chuckle.

Judy sat placing the popcorn in the microwave, blushing; she had heard Nick the first time.

“What about you?”

“I would call our kids, anything you wanted” she whispered into the microwave.

Judy woke to the bed shaking and gently grasped her small paws around her head; only stopping when she saw a dark silhouette to the side of her, Jack was trying his best to sly his way into the bed without waking her. She glanced at the clock it was almost 10:00pm

As he was pulling the blankets up he saw Maria had her eyes open starring at him

“I’m sorry did I wake you?” he groaned, annoyed he was not able to slip in without annoying her and nervous she may smell the undenying scent of alcohol on his breath.

Maria was to sleepy to noticed and simply yawned, throwing her book to the ground and wrapping her arms around his waist snuggling close to him as he reached out to turn off the bedside light.

“It’s okay, I was having a nightmare anyway” she explained, placing her head gently between his masculine shoulder blades, spooning him and trying to get back to sleep.

However there was a pit in her stomach and although she tried with all her years of training to fill it with paperwork, family time and exercise, she knew it was the shape of a fox and could not be filled, no matter how long she was trained or how long she went to therapy to be convinced she was Maria Savage, some part of her would always be Judy Hopps, who fell in love with a dumb fox and left him for dead.

AUTHOURS NOTE: Hey guys =] so good to be back with more time; So, as requested(by one of my awesome followers) I rolled like 2-3 chapters into one long one; this will probably be the last one for like another week or so, as I go back to my other job (where tumblr is locked)- No art this time, people wanted it quick, I hope that is okay for everyone. anyways guys, I hope you enjoy as always and leave some feedbax =D

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everyonesomething · 7 years

Text

Session Eleven

Malkas: "We can't ... we don't know if it's him yet."

Malkas: "Fires start. Waterdeep burned down because of a cow, once."

"It could be an explosion in one of the plants. It could have spread from the river."

Grim: "There was a fire in my hometown. Don't know how it started. Don't remember it ending. Doesn't matter, past a point."

Grim isn't talking to anyone in particular

In this session, things heat up.

The set-up: A day of recuperation from the previous day's horrors and night's frivolities.

The Game: Everyone wakes up in various states of disarray brought on by a day of fighting, drinking, and pizza.

Edith Runekill wakes up uncharacteristically late.

Malkas is still definitely in bed.

Sydney Gaydos wakes up with a literal bag of money What The Fuck

Pepper had awful dreams about pinball.

Grim had salt water and a raw egg for breakfast, she's ready to fistfight a bear

Syd and Pepper set about making breakfast for the group by cleaning out the Steele's pantry and fridge while they discuss the agenda for the day: call ahead to Baldur's Gate to warn them of a possible lich visit and arrange travel for themselves to the city.

Edith Runekill: "If we're ever in Plaguewrought Land..."

"Well. Maybe we still shouldn't stay with my parents anyways."

Ominous.

Grim gets up to wash her mug and plate. This is nerd shit.

Pepper cleans Grim's stuff with Prestidigitation, too, oblivious that Grim needed that busywork.

Grim will have her revenge, Pepper, mark my words

Ominous!

Edith remembers Grim's offer from the night before: she's still very interested in fighting lessons so out to the backyard they go. Edith isn't such a bad learner and Grim isn't such a bad teacher, it goes pretty well and Edith lands a few solid hits on her. She can't actually do any damage with her punches, but the intent is there. We'll have to fit her for some brass knuckles. Next comes an equally important lesson, how to react when your opponent touches you instead.

Grim takes Edith's hand again and lifts her own shirt to push her fingers against her abdomen. She is very skinny, it's not hard to feel the muscles tense up like a washboard.

Edith Runekill: "O-oh!"

Malkas: :|

Pepper spits coffee.

Grim: "You feel that? You got a lot more defenses than just your armour."

Sydney Gaydos: "Oh... dear."

Wait, wrong chat quote.

Shuffles notes around on desk.

Here we go.

Edith Runekill is knocked flat on her back. She's clutching her stomach and laughing hysterically. "Hahaha... ow... oh, Auril... hahahahahahaha..."

Edith Runekill: "Haha... ha... ha..."

"Oh, laughing hurts so much."

"Ugh."

"Sorry."

"Really messed that one up."

Grim is genuinely surprised at how fragile this woman is. She darts over to make sure she's not, like, actually dead.

After a bit more practice, Edith manages to finally sidestep a punch, sending Grim to the ground and into a fit of laughter. Mal—who had stepped out to go to the grocery story—comes back and he and Edith skillfully avoid having a potentially awkward conversation by turning on the TV to a news report about half a city being on fire. Thank goodness for that!

Malkas looks at the TV. "Oh, look, the Secomber River is on fire again."

Malkas stares in mute horror at the TV.

Malkas: "Oh no."

Edith Runekill reaches out to hold Mal's hand. Her hands are trembling.

Edith Runekill: "Mal... What's... was that HIM?"

Malkas takes her hand, "I... don't know."

Malkas peers out the window. In the distance, smoke is curling on to the horizon.

Grim steps inside, having presumably also noticed the apocalypse on the horizon

Malkas: "We don't know if it's him, okay?"

"Don't panic yet, okay?"

Pepper: "Did they dump a bunch of oil on the river again?"

Grim: "Better hope that's what."

Grim: "...they got a lot of manufacturing out that way, right?"

Malkas: "Yeah... The river caught on fire once. Dumping chemicals in the water."

Grim: "Automobiles?"

Malkas: "Yeah..."

"Might just be ... industrial accident."

Pepper: "Sure, there's probably nothing big and evil and pissed their car got exploded and is rampaging around for parts now, right?"

Grim stands out on the porch and watches the smoke, gripping the rail with both hands.

Malkas squeezes Edith's shoulder and goes out to the porch.

Malkas: "We need to call somebody in Orogoth, Grim."

Grim doesn't move

Malkas: "It's as big as Secomber for cars, if that thing is after car parts... We need to let them know. Do you have a contact there?"

Grim doesn't answer for a minute, absolutely rigid

Grim finally takes a deep breath

Grim: "I got a number."

Then Mal's parents come home. Peter goes to watch TV to stay up on the news and Ocila helps calm us down. Moms make everything better!

Grim looks like she's going to throw up

Ocila Steele gently pats Grim's arm. "You too, hm? Come inside, have some tea."

Grim doesn't seem to register that she's being spoken to for a moment. She looks around like she just woke up and stares at Ocila.

Ocila Steele takes her by the arm, "Come on, dear."

Grim moves without a word of protest

Grim is elsewhere right now honestly

In the kitchen, everyone has their own way of dealing with impending horror.

Edith Runekill: "Grim."

"Turn your shoulder. Step back with the blow."

Ocila Steele seats everyone in the kitchen and has the kettle on, "No metaphors at the table, Edith."

Grim looks at Edith for a moment, staring through her, then just nods and looks back down

Pepper claps her hands once. "Well at least Mal got the grocery shopping done, eh?"

Malkas: "..."

Pepper looks at Mal like 'what' and shrugs.

Despite the terrible situation, the gang takes the time to remind each other that they're in this together.

Edith Runekill: "You're not on your own, Grim. You got friends watching your back."

Grim: "It ain't on you."

"Any one of you wants to go home, don't know of a god that'd judge you."

Malkas: "Nobody's going home."

"Too late for that."

Grim: "Oughtn't say that before it comes true."

"Take it from me."

Malkas: "Well, I'm not going home."

Edith Runekill: "Well, first, my god judges us for literally anything which is why we live in a constant state of guilt and shame. But ALSO..."

Edith Runekill: "But also... if... well. The only way people can make it through anything in this awful ol' world is by looking out for one another. We make each other stronger."

Malkas: "Don't be stupid, Grim. We're not going to leave you alone to hunt this thing down and don't pretend like that's not what you'd do."

Sydney Gaydos quietly shuffles into the kitchen long after everyone else had. "If it's any help at all they have a Druid team casting a rain spell over the mess. That's a start right?"

Grim doesn't react, running her thumbnail over the handle of her mug while she listens

Edith Runekill: "And... if we all look out for one another, if we all help each other out... that multiplies our strength and cancels out our weaknesses."

Malkas nods at Sydney. "Yeah."

Sydney Gaydos seats herself at the table. "Gaydos isn't sure what you talked about before she came in, but worry not she is with each and every one of you!"

Pepper whispers at Syd, "I think we all agreed to die together, I wasn't too clear on the details," and sips on a mug of tea.

Sydney Gaydos in a probably not whisper reply, "Exactly Pepper! We're a team through it all."

We all have dinner, minus Grim who goes to take a walk to clear her head. Mal tries to get her to eat when she gets back and Edith tries to give her a pep talk, but nothing seems to help much. Time for the B squad to try their luck, instead.

Sydney Gaydos is in a queue apparently for Grim's room. "Grim. The Great Detective refuses to let you be alone tonight."

Grim grumbles, having tucked up with her back to the door

Grim: "Ain't interested. Go to bed."

Sydney Gaydos: "...." Pauses as she moves into the room. "Gaydos apologizes for what she's about to do." Sydney PICKS up Grim over her shoulder. "We're having a slumber party with Pepper. You can borrow a hat."

Grim elbows Sydney in the snoot

Grim: "MOTHERFUCKER, YOU PUT ME THE HELL DOWN"

Pepper: "C'mon Syd, you almost got her."

Sydney Gaydos is UNFAZED by the snoot elbow. "Now now. Don't be like this. It's for the best! You shouldn't be alone tonight. " Gently plops Grim on the bed when they get back to the shared room.

Grim fights like an angry raccoon for a baguette

Grim: "HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING"

Sydney Gaydos: "Helping!" And she goes :D

Pepper: "This is what friends do!"

Grim gets up and heads right back for the door

Grim: "Keep your goddamn help, I'm goin' to bed."

Sydney Gaydos: "You can go to bed in here! Pepper doesn't snore that much."

Grim LEAVES

Well. It almost worked. We'll win her over one day.

#previously on #summary #neverwinter 1933

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