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aneenasevla · 2 years

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Heavy Bakery - Chapter 9

MasterList / Kanami’s Profile /Previous Chapter

Chapter 9 - The Cook Always Eats Last

arly in the morning, Kazuo woke up to organize the household’s breakfast when he heard the sound of someone slicing food on the board very fast.

“Ah, Yasuo, I didn't know you had woken up so early”, when he turns to look from the door, he finds, instead of his son, a tall woman with light brown hair in a bun, with a concentrated expression. He blinks, trying to understand, until he remembers.

“Ah… Kanami-san. Already up so early?”

“Oh..”, she stops what she was doing and then smiles “Ah, Mister Kazuo. Good Morning. You told me yesterday that I could use the kitchen, and I'm usually at the bakery by now…”

“Oh, it's true” he approaches, “do you need help?”

“Oh, not in general, thank you”, she smiles, “but I need you to help me locate things, you can do that sitting at the table, if you prefer.”

“Well, alright then”, the little old man sits down at the table, “So… Oomori Kanami, huh?”

“Yes sir.”

‘You told me the details yesterday, but some things stuck in my head: so you mean he went after you to order another cake?”

“Yeah, he came asking urgently, saying they wouldn't let him eat. He looked pretty annoyed. In fact, he was almost like a five-foot-five kid with his hands in his pockets. All he needed to do was pout like that” she puffs out her cheeks, glaring at a spot on the wall.

Kazuo chuckled.

“Yeah, he's not one to make that face, but the rest described it the same.”

“Yes, and then I said that if he wanted another, he'd have to buy it. And he accepted without even arguing. I honestly asked for a much lower price than I should have…”

“Oh, was it? How much is the difference?”

“Huh? No, no, sir, you don't have to. I made that first cake out of gratitude, so I didn't really calculate any prices. I just gave the standard price I usually do, so no loss.”

“Well, if you say so…” he nods, “well, me and the boys are partly to blame for that…”

“Oh, so it was you?”, she didn't seem upset, not at all “what did you think? Was it good?”

“It was great, I didn't eat much, but you have talent. Kaede-san loves your cookies too.”, he laughs, “Hhehe, of course this sharing was not given willingly.”

“He said he was upset that he had to share… that sounded a little selfish, in my opinion…”

“Well, I can say that there was almost a fight between him and the boys”, Kazuo sighs.

Kanami looks surprised.

“They fought over the cake?! Sorry, I didn't mean to cause confusion…”

“Oh, no, it's ok, it's not your fault, and no, no one came to blows, Ohma who got ahead and wanted to take everything at once. Besides, you sent it to the office as a way of saying thank you to all of us, didn't you? So Ohma really was the wrong one there.”

“True”, she nods, before going back to frying the eggs she was preparing. “If he's aggressive like that, I'll remember, if there's a next time, to make two and put a card saying one is just for him, and one for the rest of the group.”

“That's the thing, he's not like that, normally, he usually shares. I think it's because, because he did all the work, he thought you gave it to him specifically. He's a very simple-minded guy.”, he smiled. Kanami nodded in agreement.

“Have you known Ohma for a long time?”

“About four years, almost five.”, he tells a brief abbreviated story of how he met, excluding the details of the Underground part, the part how they had rehearsed before “we've been business partners and friends ever since.”

“Okay… I understand. What about the Raian Kure part?”

Kazuo spits the coffee through his mouth, coughing to recover from his choking.

“W-What do you mean the Kure?” he smiles very awkwardly, “W-what do you know about them?”

“Raian Kure… a tall, blond boy, in the same category as Ohma, with silver eyes with dark sclera, very sinister…”

“Ahhh, yes… yeah… he's one of our associates…”, Kazuo was almost in a cold sweat, smiling awkwardly.

“Do you also hire assassins in sports wrestling leagues?”

Kazuo had to take his jaw off the table. Shit, she was too smart. Just when she didn't want her to get involved...

“Ah… he… he can't kill in the ring… he's there more for the sport” Kazuo puts his fingers together, looking to the side, she could see the cold sweat on his face.

“But he doesn't obey, does he…?”

Kazuo gives up trying to lie, he was never a good liar, so he blurted out with a defeated tone, “no... luckily the fighters are all monsters too, so they manage to hold him back.”

“Ah… well, the “backstage” is actually much bloodier than I imagined… it's no wonder you guys seem to radiate such a sinister aura…”

“Huh? Aura?”, he adjusts his glasses, “so you are sensitive?”

“Ahnnnn… you can say so… but only for people who seem to be suspicious, or dangerous, in some way… it’s not any supernatural ability, it’s just a self-preservation instinct… which I think is kind of broken these days, but I intend to improve.”

"Interesting. Too bad they don't have a women's league where I work, if not, who knows what gems we might find?”

Kanami had to laugh, “Ah I'm just an amateur, I don't fight to be the strongest…”

“What a pity”, they hear footsteps, and Ryuki goes through the door, “because you could be strong.”

“Ah Ryuki, good morning. Yasuo!”

“Good morning Mr.Kazuo.”Ryuki sits at the table, without ceremony.

“Good morning Dad. Hi, Miss Kanami, did you sleep well?”

“Yes, thank you.”, she nods, “I had some problems sleeping, but it was more my circumstances…”

“We understand. It's not easy for anyone.” he smiles, understanding.

“I hope this week with us helps you get over what you've been through”, Kazuo completes, smiling in the same way.

“I think that Miss Kanami can, yes, get stronger, and overcome this problem easily.” - Ryuki continues.

“Oh, You think?”, Kanami smiles sheepshly.

“Well, you're weak for now,” he says, without hesitation, cleaning his glasses. Without them, he looked even more like his “cousin”, “But I've seen weak people get stronger in a short time. If you train with the same dedication you make food, you'll knock anyone down.”

She blushed, looking at the young man. He didn't seem to have any noteworthy expression in what he said, and the way he said everything so abruptly...

“Well… thanks for your consideration, Ryuki-san.”, she smiles, “I'm flattered.”

He smiled a little, Kanami could even see a cute aura radiating from him. "My God, he's just like a child, how cute!" She turns to work, smiling.

“Ryuki, where is Koga?” Kazuo asked.

“He has already woken up, but now is getting organized… strange… he is seeming to take a while for some reason…”

“Relax, folks I'm here”, Koga entered the kitchen, “I just slept a little badly.”

“Jeez, did you have some trouble with your bed?”, Kazuo smiles.

“I think so” he sits down at the table, a little frowning, “weird dreams, like, I was in the ring, then a fuckin hot gods-”

“Oh my, this smells good” Ryuki comments, “ Miss Kanami, what are you doing there?”

Koga widens his eyes and turns around, realizing that the girl was stirring the pot. She turns and smiles at them both.

“Oh, just the basics. Tamagoyaki eggs stuffed with kani, miso soup with vegetables and the rice I seasoned with some nor laying aroundi…”

“Oh fuck… I almost said obscenities in front of a lady”, Koga straightens up, holding back the shame.

“By the way”, she brings the trays to the table, “it's served!”

The boys smile with things done.

“Damn Kanami-san… that looks like a restaurant thing.” Yasuo blinks.

“As expected of a professional cook.” Kazuo smiles.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go for it!”, she washes her hands, “I wash the dishes when you're done.”

“I'll do that” Ryuki comes forward, taking his portion of rice, “you already did the cooking favor, your work is done.”

“Oh thanks.” she delivers the last tray to the table and mentions leaving the room.

‘Aren't you going to sit down to eat, Kanami-san?” Yasuo raises an eyebrow, noticing her leaving.

“Oh no”, she smiles, “you know that phrase “ the cook always eats last”? It's actually a myth, we eat our share while cooking, that's the cleverness of the thing.” She winks an eye “I'll get organized, then I can go out with Koga.”

Koga was silent, staring at the food. “Damn, she is hot, I bet she can lift me in the shoulders and on top of that she's a professional cook… if she gives me a big punch there at the gym I’ll give up, this girl is way beyond my league”.

“Are you ok, Koga? You’re pale…” Ryuki notes, returning to the table, “Oh, take your bowl. You need to eat”

“Oh, thank you.”

“The guy looks like a withered baloon”, Yasuo laughs, “Bro what happened to you?”

“Nothing. I'm just thinking...”

“I've seen this face before”, Ryuki comments, “he's impressed with the girl.”

“Shut up, you fucker!” Koga explodes, turning red from embarrassment. Kazuo and Yasuo hold in laughter.

“Oh, so it’s true?”

Koga sits, still too red to his liking.

Ryuki continues “But uh, she's Ohma's friend, you know.”

“And what does one have to do with the other?”

“You really don't remember the look on his face when we wanted to eat the cake? She is the one who made it.”

Koga seemed to realize what was going on. And didn’t quite believe.

“Really? He only cares about the food…”

“To the point of saving who made it?”

“Boys, let's not jump to conclusions”, Kazuo intervenes, “She was attacked by gangsters affiliated with the Worms. She is a civilian who was dragged into this misfortune, and Ohma felt responsible after she was kind to him. That's history as it is, and you know more or less how Ohma thinks. There's nothing absurd there.”

“There's just one thing I found absurd about all this”, Yazuo comments.

Everybody looked curiously at Kazuo's youngest son.

“Yea? And what is it?” - Koga asks, not holding back.

“This food is absurdly good, holy shit…”

There was general agreement after a good laugh. Then they stopped talking, finally focusing on breakfast.

Next Chapter Here

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #kenganverse #heavybakery #kengan oc #fanfiction #yamashitakazuo #gaoh ryuki #koga narushima

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explosionshark · 3 years

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how to live here!

here's a special deleted scene that was supposed to go in one of the chapters after rachel and chloe start fighting, but i never really found a place where it made sense. but i always liked it too much to delete it.

The first time Chloe had talked about hanging out in a junkyard, Max had kind of assumed she’d been joking.

She’s been here a few times already since her return to Arcadia Bay, but the novelty of it still hasn’t worn off. Chloe doesn’t seem to mind, letting her wander off, camera in hand, to explore and take photos by herself until she’s halfway through a roll of film and finally satisfied.

Max lets the sound of breaking glass lead her back to Chloe and snaps one more picture. Chloe, broken off hockey stick poised at the highest arc of a big swing, aimed at the sun-bleached head of a mannequin perched atop a splintered milk crate like a fucked up golf ball on a tee.

The arc of the swing is completed. The head goes flying with a sharp crack, landing in a pile of scrap a few feet away. Chloe holds the stick up over her head and cheers.

“You get that, Max?” she calls over her shoulder. “One for the highlight reel.”

“Got it,” Max confirms, reaching up to withdraw the Polaroid as it’s ejected from the camera. She closes the distance between them to show Chloe the shot.

“Sick,” Chloe says, and then twirls the stick in her fingers. “Y’know, I never used to allow press in here before, but maybe that was a mistake. A few more like that and maybe I can finally catch some attention from the big leagues.”

“I can’t imagine they can ignore skills like yours for very long,” Max grins, leaning up on her tiptoes and craning her neck to try to spot the mannequin head in the garbage.

Chloe grins again and mimes another swing. “Wanna take a shot? Ride out my hot streak?”

“I’m good,” Max says.

Chloe nods and shrugs and swings again abruptly, for real, putting the end of the hockey stick through the screen of a boxy old TV on the ground suddenly and loudly enough to make Max jump.

“You sure?” She props a boot on the corner of the TV to hold it in place as she yanks the stick loose. “It’s hella cathartic. You’ve always struck me as having more rage than you’re willing to own up to.”

“Do I really?” Max asks, a little alarmed.

“Maybe I’m projecting,” Chloe concedes.

They wander further, Max trailing behind as Chloe beats the ever-loving shit out of anything even vaguely breakable in her path.

“Remember when you actually played?” Max asks, after the fifteenth minute of uninterrupted smashing.

Chloe pauses, turning on her heel and drawing the bandage on her arm across her forehead to wipe away a bead of sweat. “Oh hell yeah. They called me The Destroyer.”

“No they didn’t,” Max rolls her eyes. “Only you called yourself that.”

“Me and both our dads,” Chloe points out. “Yours even made a sign.”

“Oh yeah,” Max laughs. “Y’know, I think you were the hockey hooligan kid he always wanted. I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed or relieved when I quit the team.”

Her dad was a huge hockey fan and had been elated when she and Chloe had agreed when he showed them the newspaper ad he’d found seeking players for the local youth hockey team. William and their mothers had been a little more hesitant, Max remembered, but no one enough to really object to their joining.

Chloe took to it immediately, aggressive, competitive, and already more naturally athletic than Max had ever been. Max’s tenure was only a week long, but she’d remained a devoted fan of the team long after, going along with her parents to every game, home and away.

“Relieved, I think,” Chloe speculates. “You were a really small twelve year old.”

“I was appropriately sized for twelve,” Max protests. “You were tall.”

“Pint-sized,” Chloe teases. “Microscopic. Besides, you never had the heart for it. The bloodlust.”

“I liked the skating part. But yeah, you always had more fun with it than me. Did you ever get back to sports?”

Chloe shakes her head, quick and jerky, almost offended. “I never liked sports. I liked hockey ‘cause you guys would always come to my games and stuff. But then…after…”

Chloe missed the first couple weeks of practice, after William had died. It was Max’s dad that got her to go back, at Joyce’s insistence, hoping that the sport could be an outlet, that trying to preserve as much normalcy as possible would help Chloe deal with her grief.

Max and her dad had stayed in the bleachers through that first practice without William. Chloe’s play had been sloppier, and she’d left the ice early, face splotchy and red, thick hot tears running down her face into her jersey. It hadn’t gotten easier from there. It made sense that Chloe had stopped going entirely once Max’s family had moved.

“Anyway, can you even imagine me playing for Blackwell?” Chloe scoffs, brings the hockey stick down on the windshield of an old beat up car. The first blow sends a spiderweb of cracks all through the glass. The second penetrates, a small, fist-sized hole. The third, fourth, and fifth obliterate it completely.

Max closes her eyes, chases the images of a young, grief-stricken Chloe from her mind with this new fantasy. Chloe, hair undyed, strutting through the halls in a red and white letterman jacket. Chloe doing keg stands with Logan and Zach. Chloe with girls like Victoria and Juliet hanging off her arms. Chloe completely and totally ignoring a nerd like her.

“Okay, it’s a little weird,” Max admits, feeling a little embarrassed for the irrational churning in her gut. “You’ve never really been a joiner, huh?”

“Organized sports are so not punk rock,” Chloe says obnoxiously.

“It’s kind of hard to imagine you at Blackwell at all,” Max admits. “I wish I’d come back sooner. Y’know, before you left.”

Chloe’s quiet and Max knew it was a risk to go there at all, but it feels too true to keep to herself so she keeps speaking.

“I didn’t choose to be gone, but,” is it brave or stupid to do this now, actually? Has Chloe been waiting for an apology or will this just make things needlessly awkward and uncomfortable and painful? “I mean I wish I’d handled it differently. That we’d talked more while I’d been away.”

“Yeah,” Chloe shrugs. It feels like Max is on the verge of losing her, so she hurries on before the silence between them stretches too far.

“Can I be honest with you?” Max asks, stomach twisting in knots.

Chloe raises an eyebrow and nods for her to continue.

“I kind of thought,” she pauses and winces. “I mean, I was a little afraid that after I left you just. Wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That you’d replace me.”

“Max, what the fuck?” Chloe lets the words out in a harsh exhale and Max knows that tone of voice. Knows she’s pissed off for real, now.

“I know,” Max cringes, scrubbing a hand down her face. “But, I mean, you were always the cool one, right? And you were going into high school and I was still sleeping with a teddy bear and—”

“This is such bullshit,” Chloe’s voice cracks and Max was not expecting that. “You’re not just— You can’t just replace a best friend! I fucking needed you. I was so… I needed you so much and you hung me out to dry because you were scared I’d stop thinking you were cool?”

“No,” Max hurries to clarify, feeling appropriately breathless for the desperate, drowning sensation overwhelming her. “No, not like that. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it. So, I just kept putting it off, y’know? Like with homework. Remember how many times my mom had to bail me out because I’d wait too long on finishing a project and it wouldn’t be ready by the due date? Only no one could bail me out this time. And the longer I waited, the worse I felt, the more sure I was that you hated me, that you’d scream at me and tell me to stay out of your life. And I was too scared to face that so I…”

“I never hated you,” Chloe says, face caught somewhere between fury and despair. “Fuck, for the longest time all I wanted was to leave here, to be where you were instead.”

“The night you called me,” Max cuts in gently, proud at least when her voice doesn’t shake, “when you tried to run away, I was so scared for you. And I felt guilty because I realized I was wrong, that you still wanted to be my friend, and I knew I didn’t deserve it. I cried myself sick on the ride down with my mom to pick you up. It really freaked her out. But when we got there you just hugged me and you let me hold your hand the entire way back to Arcadia Bay.”

Chloe stays silent, chewing her lip hard enough to make Max wince.

“And even after, even though we were talking again the entire time I was away I’d think about being back here instead. I think about all the years I missed with you and I get mad because it feels kind of like my fault. Like if I’d tried harder it wouldn’t have taken this long. But I can’t fix that now, I know, I’m just glad we’re here now.”

Chloe shakes her head, rough, and throws the beat up hockey stick into a pile behind her. “Max, you fucking—”

She cuts herself and stomps over and Max isn’t sure what she was expecting, but she’s definitely surprised when Chloe wraps her arms around her, drags her close until there’s almost no space between them.

As tight as the hug is, Chloe’s hands hovering over her back are gentle. She’s quiet but her breathing’s rough. It takes a long time for her to speak again; when she does her voice is shaky, quiet. “I never, ever hated you, but I was pissed at you for a really long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Max tries to say but Chloe squeezes her tighter until she falls quiet.

“I got tired of it,” Chloe says. “And it wasn’t fair, either. Not really. We were just kids. God, I fucked so many things up so much worse than that. You don’t know how bad. If you did, you’d think I’m so pathetic. You’d hate it.”

“Chloe Price, you’re so many things, but pathetic has never been one of them,” Max insists, a little startled by the steel in her voice. Chloe tenses in her arms, but doesn’t move away so Max continues, gentler, “I wish I’d been here more. I know you weren’t alone the whole time but still, if I could go back and change anything it’d be trying harder to be a bigger part of your life. It’d be not letting it take so long to get here.”

It’s stupid, she knows, it’s ridiculous to think she could have prevented any of the hard knocks Chloe had taken in her absence but the thing is she’ll never know and Max thinks that she’ll probably always feel responsible somehow.

“God, imagine if we’d had a few years together at Black-Hell,” Chloe says and releases her, finally. She stays close, pushes some hair out of Max’s face. “We would have gotten into so much trouble. Me, you and…” She trails off with a wince but doesn’t linger. “You could have cheated off my science papers. I’d trade you rides around the Bay for homework.”

“Hey,” Max laughs. “Presumptuous. How do you know I would have compromised my morals like that?”

“Oh, you would have,” Chloe says, laugh all low and breathy. “When have you ever been able to say no to these baby blues?”

She bats her lashes facetiously, but the blush staining Max’s face is very real. “Okay, whatever. What else would we have done?”

“Oh, pranks,” Chloe says. “No doubt. We would have pranked it up so hard on those nerds. I always had this idea about semi-permanent hair dye and Victoria’s shampoo bottles, but I never lived in the dorms. And for some reason, Rachel refuses to be my inside man on this one.”

“I’d be down,” Max blurts out, not sure what the sudden pained look on Chloe’s face could have been leading to, but desperate to head it off.

“Wait, for real?” Chloe asks, appropriately distracted and Max realizes suddenly that her hypothetical assent to collusion had just been offered in practice.

“Uh, I mean—”

“No take-backs,” Chloe crows, gleefully. “Holy shit, dude, yes. Okay, I’ve got it worked out pretty well, this is something I’ve been sitting on for a few years at least. First, we’ll need a distraction…”

Chloe’s plan is elaborate, but thorough, and by the time she’s done laying out the details Max isn’t sure she’ll be able to follow through, but she does know that whatever lingering doubts about their friendship she’d had this morning were founded in one-sided insecurity.

“Let me sleep on it,” she says, finally.

“Max,” Chloe whines. “You promised.”

“I did not.”

“I mean, practically.”

“No, I didn’t.”

It’s almost like being a kid again, arguing about something pointless under the midday sun, a little dehydrated but having too much fun together to do something sensible like go back inside. Max has missed this for so long.

She’s deliriously happy she won’t ever have to miss it again.

#life is strange #pricefield #how to live here #ask games #explosionfic

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heartofsnark · 3 years

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Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Six): Do I Sink or Do I Float Now?

Notes: Still posting my little backlog of chapters!~ In this one we get Maelstrom, along with some Vik and Misty interactions that were really fun to write of course heavy on our precious boy Jackie too.

Word Count: 9004

Chapter Warnings: Canon typical violence, cursing, installation of cyberware.

If you haven’t yet, you can read the previous chapter here!~

With a tightness in her chest and a heavy sigh, V answers Dex’s call. She’ll play it by ear and maybe wait until they’re in person to drop the news about Evelyn. The client really had to drag her into this bullshit, didn’t she?

“How're things lookin', Miss. V?”

“Client had a recording that helped us out, Konpeki Plaza.”

“Beautiful. T-Bug already called, said she's workin' her magic. And the Flathead?”

“On it now and quick question, how are we getting into Konpeki?”

“Through the front door, how else? I'm no leadhead. Ain't gonna leave no trace for them to follow 'cause we gonna do this clean an' on the hush-hush,” Dex confirms her beliefs, she needs cyberware, something.

“Got it, on my way to get the Flathead, now.”

“T-Bug says no chance at the chip without that bot. To work, then, Miss V.”

He hangs up and V leaves Lizzie’s bar, night air cold on her exposed skin. She’ll swing by her apartment, drop by Vik’s, and then meet up with Jackie at All Foods. V makes a beeline to her car, starting a call and patching a call to Jackie through the radio speaker.

“Jackie,” she signs one handed as she drives, “Met the client. Her name's Parker. Evelyn Parker.”

“OK. Whatcha waitin' for? Gimme the deets. Who is she? What's she like?”

“Shady as fuck. Doll, I think, fucks Yorinobu Arasaka and now she wants to fuck him over.”

“Don’t seem that odd.”

“She’s...off, Jackie. Hiding something, big, I just. Don’t trust her, don’t think she’s a bad person, just… not to be trusted.”

“Yeah, sounds like nerves talkin' to me. Makes everyone seem suspect. Stress can kill you, y'know.”

“Yeah, yeah, so you tell me.”

“What about Militech?”

“I met with the corpo.”

“V… “

“Hear me out, woman gave me hell and a spiked chip, wanted me to pay on Militech’s dime but the chip would have fried Maelstrom and left us cleaning up the mess.”

“Of course, I told you, V.”

“But, I managed to crack it. Maelstrom plays nice, I got a clean ten grand off of Maelstrom. Chrome snorters pull bullshit; we fuck them and send a middle finger to Militech while we’re at it. We can talk it out more when we meet.”

“Alright, waitin' for ya at All Foods, ya know. Not gettin' any younger.”

“Well, grab something to eat, going to be a while longer.”

“Chingada madre, V, what now?”

“Konpeki Plaza, hotel we got to get into. They have a no weapon policy and way Dex talks that the only way in, is through the front door. “

“And?”

“And, if shit goes sideways, I don’t want to be caught with my pants down, in a gunfight without a weapon. Need cyberware, something they can’t confiscate, so I’ll be ready for worst case scenario. So, I’m grabbing my savings and making a trip to see Vik.”

“Stress stress, all you do is stress, but I’m glad you’re finally spending your fucking money. What you trying to get?”

“You’ll see when we meet up, who knows, might end up using it on some Maelstrommers.”

“Hehe, see you soon, V.”

V hangs up and parks outside her megabuilding, sliding her mask off and into her bag before running in. She keeps her head down and doesn’t talk as she rushes to just get her stash of cash out from under the bed. Willing the elevator to move faster and annoyed when she presses her hand to the intercom to unlock her door and it takes a second too long for the lock to validate her SID chip. She opens the under bed compartment, finding her money stash next to her toy stash. Then it’s back out to her car and driving out to Vik’s.

She parks in the same place Jackie did that morning, keeping her head down as she wades through the crowd, trying not to stare at the strippers in the club window across from Misty’s store and avoiding eye contact with Gary; the slightly crazy homeless man who likes to yell about conspiracies. V peeks into Misty’s shop and smiles when she sees the woman at the little register and desk. Her face lit by the cyan neon sign advertising her prices for chakra readings.

“Hey, V.” Misty smiles at her, she’s the cutest little thing, granted she’s a bit taller than V. A short airy chin length bob of bleached hair, heavy black makeup, and big green eyes.

“Hey, Misty,” V signs as she walks in, her choker translator already turned on

“Heard you and Jackie have a new job.” There’s a hint of something sad to her voice, a pain to her eyes.

“You don’t seem excited.”

“Just...worried; bigger jobs, bigger risks.”

“I know, I’ll do my best to watch out for him, promise.”

“I know you will, V.”

“You’ll have to read our cards when you get the chance.” Its become a tradition, the little peek into the future easing some of Misty’s nerves.

“Please, Jackie’s heart chakra was a little out of whack and his aura needs tending. Keep him away from mean reds, if you can.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Speaking of which…”

“Oh no.”

“You need to let me adjust your chakras, V!~”

“Yeah… I don’t know about that one…”

“Your crown and throat chakras are so messy, heart chakra too actually, you’re just spiritually kind of a wreck, V.”

“You can tell that just by looking at me.”

“I could tell after my first conversation with you.”

“Funny, I’ll think about it. For now, I got to see Vik.”

“He’s in the clinic, go on in.”

V gives Misty a pat on the shoulder as she walks around and goes out the back door of the older woman’s store into the alleyway behind it. A soft meow rings out, just before the stairs that go down to Vik’s is a little sphinx cat with big golden eyes. The merc crouches down and scritches it’s back, smiling at the cutie, softly meowing back at it. Its such a cute kitty. One more little pat and she separates herself from the cat and goes down the stairs to Vik’s clinic. She’s not sure how Vik can stand to stay in the dank basement level clinic all day, but she’s thankful he’s always easy to find when she needs him. Through the little metal gateway door she can already see him at a workbench, watching a boxing match on a small TV.

“Viky! How’s my favorite ripper?” She greets him as she walks through, grinning as the older man spins his chair to look at her.

The ripper’s eyes drop down for a second seeing the box she has held to her stomach with one arm. He smiles softly, the expression forming wrinkles around his eyes. He’s an older man, dark hair just starting to thin on the back of his head. Tattooed forearms with memories of his boxing days and tinted glasses on his nose.

“Good to see you too, V. It's been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure today?”

“Got a new gig, new fixer, sure Jackie’s already talked your ear off about it.”

“Dexter Deshawn… Known quantity, from the Afterlife. No denying you're movin' up…” Vik tells her but there’s a drag in his voice, V is starting to get the distinct impression that no one is as excited for this as her and Jackie are. Hell, she’s not even as excited as Jackie, Evelyn’s offer still heavy on her mind.

“Something you’re not telling me?”

“Keep your guard up, that's all. I've heard some things about Dex. He's not as "chill" as he makes himself out to be.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nods, Dex doesn’t seem to shady at the moment, but she trusts Vik’s opinion, “as for right now, plan is for me and Jackie to get into a hotel, pretend we’re guests. Hotel’s got a strict no guns policy, so… need a weapon they can’t take off of me.”

“That so? You finally caving and getting the projectile launcher?”

“No, I was thinking Mantis Blades, actually. Quieter, if shit goes off the rails it’d be better to have something that doesn’t tell everyone where we are.”

“And you get to add two more blades to your collection,” Vik teases, knowing her affinity for swords, knives, and daggers over firearms.

“Hey, doesn’t hurt to stick to what I know, besides with shit getting real… need better tech.”

“Well alright,” Vik stands and kicks away his wheeled seat, walking towards his work station, and getting the injector, “but lemme guess- hasn’t paid you yet.”

“No, but, I brought what I got. I know it’s not enough but, if you’re fine with me paying so much now and the rest later, I-”

Vik puts a hand up and stops her from pushing the little box of cash at him, a soft smile on his face. Jackie likes to say Vik has a soft spot for her, sometimes she doubts it but when he gives her that soft almost kind fatherly look, she can’t help but think Jackie might be right.

“Keep it.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous, I should at least give you something upfront, I-”

“We'll work something out later. Right now I'm just out to make sure you get back in one piece. Keep that back for now and we can figure it out once you get paid, alright?”

“Got no idea what I did to deserve you, Vik.”

“Who knows?” He laughs and shoots an injection into his forearm, to help steady and loosen up his organic hand, flexing the fingers on his ripper glove, “go ahead and get comfy.”

V nods and puts her cash stash in her bag before climbing up into the doctor’s chair, taking a deep breath. Even with Vik, the only doctor she trusts, she always finds herself nervous in his chair. She’s slowly grown more accustomed to the importance of cyberware and tech in Night City, but it still just feels overwhelming at times to think of carving out pieces of herself for it. V is fairly sure other than monks she’s one of the only people past the age of eighteen who doesn’t have optics, kids carving their eyes out as soon as a doc is willing to do it. This is important, she needs to be prepared for the worst case scenario, but she is about to have a significant portion of her arms removed to be replaced with swords. The gravity of that still sits heavy on her chest.

“Jack in and lay those major league arms down for me.”

Vik pulls up two tables on each side of the chair and V lays her arms down for him, trying to steady her breathing. Her eyes linger on the brand on her left wrist, the one that marked her place within her nomad clan. She wonders if that part of her arm will be taken off, skin removed with synthetic Real Skin stuff. He sits in his little wheeled stool, looking over her scans.

“Looks like you’ve actually been taking your meds.”

“Got an alarm on my phone now, nearly forgot just this morning,” she switches to spoken English, though her hands twitch to sign, she doesn’t want to move them just in case.

“Whatever helps, last thing you need is your body trying to kill itself.”

“But it's so good at that.”

“Oh I know it is,” he pushes himself to get to the other side of the table, pushing a sharp injection into her arm just below her elbow, “a bit of anesthetic.” Then he pushes her sleeve up higher, so he can reach her bicep, another shot.

“What’s that one?”

“Anti-anxiety, though judging by the wide eyed look on your face, it’s gonna take a second to kick in.”

“Oh, yeah… sorry.”

“It's okay, know this ain’t your thing. Most arm cyberware is fairly invasive, but I got some tricks up my sleeve. Do my best to give you the tech you need and leave as much ‘ganic material intact as I can.”

“I know, I trust you.”

Slowly, her body numbs. The strong anesthetic spreads into her blood and impacting every inch of her. Her breathing feels more stable and her heart rate seems to slow back to normal, a sense of calm coming over her. Vik is a good man, she knows that, he’d never do anything that isn’t needed and wouldn’t ever try to hurt her. He starts to roll out the tech to carve her arms open and put blades inside.

She closes her eyes and lays her head back, because she doesn’t want to see, it will just freak her out more. Put her trust in fate and more importantly Vik to take care of it. V feels nothing, only soft whirrs of tech.

“Feel anything?”

“Never do. Ask me that every time, you know. Not as if things are gonna be any different today.”

“Sure thing, kid, I mean not like there's any risk of a stroke or paralysis. But... heh, what do I know? I'm just a doctor.”

“Okay, okay, I getcha.”

“You got your contacts with you?”

“Yeah, in my bag.”

“Once we get your blades in, I’ll take a look at them, think we can bump them up with some Kiroshi tech.”

“You’re the best, Vik.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, nearly forgot, you’ll get a kick out of this. Coach Fred in my building wants me to do some fights.”

“Does he now?”

“Mmhmm, really tried to sell it too, he believes in me. Dude, I’m fucking five feet tall, but okay.”

“Well,” Vik chuckles, “to be fair, you may be small, but I’ve seen you take down guys twice your size.”

“That’s merc work, Vik; don’t think they’d let me stab my opponent in the ring.”

“That is usually frowned upon.”

They make small talk as he works, the chatter easing her nerves, the little traces of anxiety the medicine can’t touch. Vik tries to convince her she could hold her own in a boxing fight, though unlike Coach Fred, it feels less like a sales pitch coming from Vik. From him it feels more like a dad trying to convince their kid they’ll be good at soccer if they just get out there and try it.

“Alright, we’re done, kid. Take a look.”

V takes a deep breath and does just that, Looking down at arms that still seem to be very much her own but with silver detailing from her knuckles to her elbows. They look nice, the Mantis Blades and Projectile Launcher are the better looking arm cyberware options in her opinion. Like accents, little detailing, rather than making arms look more tech than flesh. It’s her nails still, painted her favorite bright blue, she can still see her freckles. And when she twists her forearms she finds her brand still there.

“Wow, really did save as much skin as you could.”

“Mmhmm, still you, just a few added touches. The blades act on intention and reflex, stand up and give it a try. Just don’t cut anything I need.”

V gets out of the chair, taking a few steps to the most cleared off portion of the room. Vik scoots himself back on the stool. Just what she’d need, to finally get cyberware beyond the basics and end up accidentally gutting her favorite ripper. With the thought and a tensing of her forearms, the blades extend out.

“Woah.”

She marvels at it, the way her flesh has opened up, can see the metal compartment almost where the blades were stored and hidden inside. Carefully, she retracts the blade in one arm to touch the other. Curiously she touches where the skin meets metal, nerves in the flesh still, but when she touches inside of the compartment she feels nothing. She presses down into the steel and when she does so hard enough, she can feel it start to put pressure on real organic tissue. She pulls her fingers away and retracts the blade; extending and pulling them back a few times, getting the feel for them.

“Take it you’re a fan?”

“Its so cool.”

“Still wish you got the Launcher instead?”

“Maybe a little bit,” she tests out signing, thankful the metal additions don’t interfere with her ability to do it, “I’m good with knives and katanas, so having a cannon in my arm would add a bit of variety.”

“Maybe your next job.”

“You can take them out and do that?”

“Mmhmm, now-a-days even the military grade stuff is designed to be adaptable, you can rip ‘em out and change it up whenever you see fit. So, you can have whatever new tech you want when you want it.”

“The innovations of consumerism, huh?”

“Something like that,” he laughs, “hand me your contacts and I’ll upgrade them for you.”

She does just that, watching him take the contacts and put them in a device. While he tinkers with those, V keeps playing with her new toys. Making sure she knows exactly what will and won’t trigger the blades. Flexing alone won’t extend them, folding and twisting her forearms. It requires the intention too, linked to she assumes her neural plants and cyberdeck. Which means she should be able to hug someone without decapitating them, a skill she does occasionally enjoy having. Even if Jackie says her hugs are half ass. Got to hug people like you’ll never see them again, because in Night City that might be the case; according to him.

“All done, test them out,” Vik hands her back the contact case and she carefully places them in. The interface lights up for a moment, adjusting to the new tech. She looks around, her vision a bit clearer.

“Image looks clearer.”

“Installed threat detection and weak spot detection tech too. Anyone who isn’t known to you, who the soft picks up as an enemy sees you, it’ll highlight them and tell you what their weak points are.”

“That’s awesome, I don’t know what to say Vik, this is incredible.”

“Figured, if you needed the blade for some hotel, you’d probably have to ditch the mask. So, it doesn't hurt to bump up the contacts.”

“Yeah...oh…guess your right, can’t play corp hotel guest in a mask, can I…”

“Just now realizing that?”

“Maybe… but more importantly. The blades, the contacts. I don’t know what to say, Vik, I…”

“Say you’ll take this and remember the dosage. Two whiffs now and another two in an hour,” he hands her a medicine inhalant, “mild stim. Should boost neurotransmission in the short term and muffle some of the side effects while the implant takes.”

“Thanks Vik, seriously, I owe you big. You sure you don’t want some cash up front? I really don’t mind, I-”

“Won’t hear it. Go on, kid. Show 'em what you're made of,” he grins at her, rolling back over to his desk, “And once you hit the big leagues, don't forget where you came from.”

A part of her wonders if it’s meant as a joke or a serious concern, knowing how much he seemed to worry about her getting a job from Dex. No matter if she hits the major leagues, Vik will always be her go to ripper. She comes up behind him where he’s gone back to watching TV and throws an arm around his neck in a sort of hug, squeezing him close. The kind of hug Jackie would mock, but full scale embraces are still...weird.

“Couldn’t if I tried, Vik, thanks again.”

“No problem, kiddo,” he pats her hand where it sits on his chest, “grab your candy and get going.”

V giggles, and pats his shoulder as she pulls away. She wonders if any of his other patients end up grabbing candy from the bowl on his desk. If Vik does the same joke with anyone else now that she kicked it off, a part of her hopes not. She grabs a handful of honeyed candies, popping one in her mouth as she leaves his clinic through the metal gate. The cat is still there when she gets back out to street level, she gives it a few more scratches, then takes the pathway back through Misty’s shop.

“Vik take care of you?” The bleached blonde greets V as she comes in.

“Sure did, I got swords in my arms.”

That gets a giggle out of her, V showing off the indentations and designs of the Mantis Blades. Misty runs her fingers along them, smiling at the merc.

“Very nice, take it you’re off to meet Jackie, now?” There’s still some worry in Misty’s eyes, a sadness to her tone.

“Yeah, got to get a combat bot. Shouldn’t take too long, Maelstrom isn’t anything we haven’t handled before. You know that.”

“I do, I do,” Misty fiddles her fingers together, “its not them I’m worried about, it’s just this whole… thing with Dex and this heist. Just got a bad feeling. The bigger your jobs get, the more risks, you know. I’m sorry...sure you don’t want to hear me whine.”

“Hey, hey,” V touches Misty’s shoulder, “its not whining. You love Jackie, it’s only natural to be worried.”

“Thanks, Jackie thinks this job will set us up for life, that he’ll finally be able to take care of me like I deserve… “

“And what do you think?”

“That is dreams are gonna get him killed one day and he doesn’t seem to care…”

“He cares, he does. He just...thinks the risk is worth it, that if he does this he can build a better future.”

“I know, just can’t shake the feeling he’s flying too close to the sun, I guess,” Misty says, wrapping her arms around herself. V knows that anxiety well and can’t say she even has the best feeling about this job. But, this is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Hey, want to go ahead and do that tarot reading? Might make you feel better, see what the fates got in store.”

“Yeah,” Misty smiles softly, “I’d like that.”

Misty grabs her deck, the one V and Jackie picked out for her, as the merc comes around to the other side of the table. Jackie and V will be with each other the whole time, so if V’s future comes up clean, it means he can’t be too bad off. If nothing else, it offers a little distraction from anxiety and it won’t kill Jackie to wait just another ten or so minutes.

“If my future’s clean, Jackie’s won’t be too bad. Guy’s always had better luck than me, anyway.”

“I think he’d say otherwise,” Misty laughs, shuffling the cards, “now, focus on the recent past and what you expect in the future.”

First card down, a man walking towards a cliff with a dog trotting along after him.

“The Fool, that’d be you.”

“So the cards think I’m an idiot, cool,” V rolls her eye, not missing the shadow of a smile across Misty’s lips.

“The Fool symbolizes the beginning of a journey. You brim with enthusiasm, yet remain unaware of both your capabilities and the threats you face.”

“So...the cards think I'm an idiot.”

“Just a little bit,” Misty teases, laying down the next card, “The Wheel of Fortune,. The danger is greater than you think. It will come suddenly, without warning. Conflict is unavoidable.”

“Fair enough.”

Another card down, this one upside down.

“The reversed Chariot reveals that such danger is tied to your love of risk. Do not aim too high, V.”

“I’m short, got nowhere else to aim.”

Misty looks up at V under her brow, despite the hint of a smile, the meaning is clear. This is serious and V should take it with some level of seriousness. But, if she’s honest, V’s just happy to see Misty smiling at all.

“And finally, The Magician… interesting.”

“Why’s that?”

“You may meet someone fascinating, someone charismatic. Maybe even someone you will grow to love?”

“Ew.”

Misty laughs as V makes a face at the word love and how Misty dragged the word out; the implication clear and gross. Why the fuck is fate concerned with V’s romantic life when she’s about to pull off a heist on Ara-fucking-Saka.

“You can’t ‘ew’ fate, V!” Misty scolds her between giggles, smile now wide and bright.

“I can when fate is being fucking gross.”

“Love isn’t gross, V. It's beautiful.”

“Ew.”

“Get out of my shop,” Misty laughs and rolls her eyes, putting the cards back in her deck.

“Talk to you, later.”

Misty waves her off and V leaves out, content that she lightened Misty’s mood if only for a moment. She avoids eye contact with Gary as she makes a beeline back to her car, putting her new contacts back in the case and that in her bag. As useful as they are, she’ll use her mask for the Maelstrom job. For the usual reasons; enjoying her anonymity and well, people tend to take her a bit more seriously when they can’t see her baby face.

V pulls up outside of All Foods, an abandoned food plant that Maelstrom has turned into their newest HQ. Jackie is already parked sitting on his arch, poor guy has been waiting on her for entirely too long. She puts her mask back on and hops out, walking up towards him, seeing his posture brighten up when he spots her walking down the street.

“About time, V. Mi madre always said patience pays off, but christ.”

“Sorry, a lot of shit to take care of. Most prepwork we’ve ever had to put in.”

“Well, fill me in.”

“Ran through the BD with the client and T-Bug, know where the chip is and where we’re trying to get too. But we need the bot from Maelstrom to nuke the hotel’s subnet and make sure we don’t catch lead from a turret. Dex paid them for it, but we got no idea if they’re going to honor that.”

“He paid up front, hijole.”

“Yep, I met up with the Militech rep too. Gave me the spiked chip, but I reworked it. Got a chip with clean eddies on it and a newly...adjusted… chip that will spike Maelstrom and Militech.”

“So, what’s the play?”

“Doubt they’re going to just honor the original buy, but if they play nice, figured we return the favor. Give them the clean eddies and call it done.”

“But Maelstrom don’t play nice. Gang world ain't too complicated, Might's right, the strong survive. Either you fuck others, or you get fucked.”

“Then we fuck them over right back, they want to play dirty, give them the spiked chip and take what we want. Spike chips in my left pocket, clean one in the right,” she pats her pockets, “so if you see me get the chip from the left, get ready.”

“Understood and the new chrome?”

“Mantis Blades, like I said, hotels got a no iron policy and if shit goes wrong, I want to be ready. And, hell, if Maelstrom plays dirty, I might get a little practice tonight.”

“How the hell you swing those?”

“Vik, gave me chrome on credit, again. Too nice for his own good, I swear.”

“Pff,” Jackie laughs, “only when it comes to you, chica.”

“Don’t know why.”

“Told ya, he says you got a good heart. Probably give you a second one for free just for that.”

“Enough, enough; lets get this taken care of.”

“Into the borgbeasts den, then.”

“Onward.” With that Jackie climbs off his bike, leading the way and she follows behind.

“I hate these 'borg fuckers. Just had to be them…”

“Gang like any other,” V tells him.

Night has fallen over the city, lit by streetlamps and fires in a trash can. Northside all but abandoned, one of the only places where the night isn’t colored by neon citylights. They walk past trash and shrapnel, towards the door. An intercom button on the wall.

“Take the Valentinos. They follow God and the Santa Madre. Honor means something to 'em. You know what they want, how they get it, and what pisses 'em the fuck off. With Maelstrom, you just never know.”

“Think you might be a touch bias?”

“Heh, maybe, go on, let 'em know we're here.”

With the V presses the intercom button waiting for it to ring, a few moment pass before a low growl of a voice finally responds.

“Hm, don't know you.”

“Dex sent us.” V is increasingly thankful his name is easy enough to quickly finger spell. If they keep working with him, she may have to come up with a name sign though.

“Main room. We been waiting,” the Malestom member tells her and the front doors slide open.

The first room is dark with only a fluorescent light and the red glow of active turrets within it. There’s a distinct stink of mildew, rot, and mold. The stench of it choking V as she steps in after Jackie.

“Cozy place. Could use a few plants, though,” Jackie makes a snide remark, as his heavy steps ring through the room, tech lines the walls and is stacked up on shelves, “Oh yeah. They look damn well prepared.”

“Food factory turned into a fucking armory, lovely.”

“Gear from the Jacked convoy, gotta be… Must've been all over it like maggots on dead meat.”

“Everything’s marked Militech,” she confirms as they take a corner and walk down a short flight of stairs.

“Psycho borgs chromed out with military-grade hardware worth millions... Should be fun.”

“Yeah, a real party.”

They take a turn past a cluster of steel lockers, grime coated, with old abandoned anti-contamination suits still inside. Another turn past a neon red lit elevator shaft, the old factory is a mechanical maze. No doubt a reason why the chrome gang picked it; walls covered in their graffiti. They walk up another staircase; mines on every step, deactivating before them.

“Anti-personnel mine,” V comments, “directional shrapnel spitter.”

“Subtle…”

Around a corner, through another passageway, and up another flight of stairs. Each step echoes, the entire place dark except for blips colored by red and the odd white fluorescents. Jackie stops when the steps lead to a door. Nodding his head at it, giving V the go ahead to open it. She rolls up the shutter door and is suddenly blinded with bright stark white light, chill curling around her and creeping through her thin cropped top. It makes sense, the former meat packaging plant needing a room to stay cold.

“Stay cool… They’re just tryin’ to spook us,” Jackie tells her as she steps forward.

Bright yellow forms patterns across the metal floor, spot lights, and stacks of crates marked Militech. Security cameras and she sees the first glimpse of Maelstrom members since they’ve stepped into the plant. One sitting on a crate, armed and watching with their signature red glowing optics. Another on a platform over seeing them.

“Get in the elevator, fuckin’ sheep,” the Maelstrommer barks at them.

“Thought those cabrones only swiped a couple crates, not a whole fuckin’ semi,” Jackie comments under his breath as they walk past the crates and to the end of the room. Double doors open up to a freight elevator.

“This is going to be a hoot, ain’t it?” The doors to the elevator close and it starts it’s journey upwards.

“It’s all right, keep chilled, V. Remember, we're on their turf.”

“Yeah, because I’m the one who loses their chill.”

“I’m always chill-”

The elevator comes to a stop before Jackie can finish his though, the door on the other end opening and a Maelstrom member staring at them. He has the red glowing spider like optics and little mechanical dreads on the back of his head. What’s visible of his arms and chest is a mishmash of scar tissue and metal. Over his shoulders, she can see two other gang members. One holding a shotgun and the other plugged into a netrunner chair, glowing under the light of red screens.

“What do you want?” He’s the guy who spoke to them over the intercom.

“Got a bot we need, model MT0D12, Flat Head. Our fixer already paid for it, we’re just here to pick it up.”

“Hmm, names Dum-Dum,” he points to the side with his gun and starts to move back into the room, “Now, couch. Plant it.”

She walks into the room, and it seems like this could go well. They’ve been mostly chill, gruff sure, but nothing bad. In the center of the room just before a large roll up garage door is a table and two torn up red leather couches. Another Maelstrom member sits on the table. She doesn’t hesitate, sitting down on the couch closest to her, looking at the bright vending machine the gangers have graffitied over. Dum-Dum puts one foot up on the other couch and follows his line of sight to Jackie, who moves a little slower, his arms crossed as he moves next to the other couch and only stands.

“Ahh, well, shit. Goes for you too,” Dum-Dum tells him and she expects Jackie to listen, he said himself this is their turf and they should keep try to stay chill.

“I'll stand.”

Or… he’ll let his pride get the better of him and refuse. Its hard to read the emotions on a Maelstrom member's face, so chromed you can tell what the hell is going on. But the shift in volume is telling enough.

“This so fuckin' hard? Fuckin' ass on the fuckin' couch!”

“Make me,” Jackie says, voice low as he gets into Dum-Dum’s face. As much as he can while being nearly a head taller than the Maelstrom member.

“Thought you'd never ask. Sit your ass down 'fore I plant a bullet in your skull.’

“Jackie,” she signs with one hand and pats his shoulder, catching his attention, “think it’d be best to just sit down, keep everything chill, remember?”

“This ain't gonna end well but… shit…” And with that Jackie finally sits down, sinking into graffiti covered red leather.

“Well, all right,” Dum-Dum gets a drug inhalant from his pocket, sitting down on the table in front of V and offering it to her, “Come on, gotta lighten up. Take a hit.”

The inhalant is red and purple; if she had to guess, Black Lace. An upper that’s high is said to feel reminiscent of manic Cyberpsychosis. Corps used to feed it to their troops by the gallon, cuts off pain receptors and made everyday men into unstoppable killing machines.

“Appreciate the offer, but weed’s the hardest shit I touch,” V dismisses the offer as politely as she can. She knows it’d endear her to them, maybe, but… drugs aren’t really her thing. And when it is, she prefers mellow to mania.

Dum-Dum huffs the inhalant, dipping his head back and smoke billowing from his nose. Then exhaling a steady stream of it. She can see Jackie cringing and trying not to breath in the aftermath of Dum-Dum’s high.

“Whatever you say, straight edged princess.”

The member sitting next to Dum-Dum moves as nother brings out a large Militech case, black with a yellow lock. It’s put down on the table with a heavy thud.

“Here we go. The Flathead, model MT0D12.”

“Need to see it.” She’s not going go off of good faith, assuming it’s all there and works.

“Suit yourself.”

He opens the case and she sees the spider like bot inside, it's almost cute, Dum-Dum shakes the control shard at them as he talks.

“Fuckin' tricked out this thing. Dynamic, thermo-optic camo armor.”

He puts the control shard into a slot at the base of his skull, all but the middle of his optic eyes going dim as the bot comes to life within the crate. It stands at attention, moves it’s head and shimmies it’s legs. Just a cute mechanical spider; why did they make military combat tech cute?

“Full cognitive immersion with a Raven controller.”

The bot goes invisible which is impressive, but V’s eye is drawn elsewhere. A steady creak and she sees the garage door behind Dum-Dum is starting to roll up. Screens and the back of a leather chair, a man sitting down visible. She can’t truly tell, but if she had to wager a guess, Royce.

“Pimped out, prototype actuators made of titanium-vanadium-Kevlar composite.”

Dum-Dum continues to sell them on the bot as the door fully opens behind him, the chair turning and her seeing that she was right. Royce, the newest Maelstrom leader looking into the deal with the same glowing red optics, though his set so far back in his skull he’s missing gray matter.

“'N' watch this,” Dum-Dum says he sends the bot to move around the base, “Fully integrated link, too, so when the spider starts crawlin' up walls, danglin' from ceilings…” He starts to sound sick, his stomach churning as he sees the view of the bot.

“Could lose your lunch?” V can’t help but tease, Royce is up now, one hand on the garage door. Like he’s waiting, ready to pounce the second he hears something he don’t like. Those red optic staring V down.

“So, what you think?” Dum-Dum asks as he returns the bot to its case.

“Exactly what we’re after, we’ll take it.”

“Preem, sure, yeah,” Dum-Dum puts the control shard back in the case, “let’s see your cred.”

“Brick already got paid for it.”

A metal boom rings out, those words snapping Royce into action as he punches his fist against the door. Stomping forward and Dum-Dum jumps, rushing off the table as Royce marches towards V.

“Brick got it…heh,” the red shine of metal, a gun pressed to her head, “I don't see any fuckin' Brick around here, do you?!”

“Fuck Brick then, lets cut a new deal,” she doesn’t hesitate, refuses to flinch or show fear.

He presses the gun in tighter, leaning down into her face, the red optic nearly blinding. So close she can see the scars around the tech and just deeply imbedded they truly are, He lets out a low hum as he leans in, testing her and she doesn’t pull away, doesn’t break eye contact. Then he pulls back.

“Hah! Now that's good business sense! All right, you want the Flathead? I better see some eddies.”

She reaches into her left pocket. She would have done this clean, would have paid and been on her way. But Royce wanted a fight, wanted to put iron to her head and try to shake her down. So, she’ll burn his whole goddamn operation to the ground.

“Got them right here,” she hands him the credchip.

“Just like that? Without battin' a fuckin' eye?! Hahah!”

“Need the bot, just take the cash and hand it over, no trouble needed.”

“Look at this fuckin' girl scout! You know all your knots, got all your badges?! Hahaha!”

“Hilarious, you want the money or not?”

“Y'know, ya never did say who sent you, never did say who you're workin' for?”

“Yes, yes I fucking did, Dex.”

“Dexter DeShawn… The lard ass who punching-animal-fucked half of Pacifica? Mean he ain't dead?”

“Swear to god, I’m going to blow my own brains out before you can! You want my fucking money or you want to bore me to death?”

“Fine,” he starts to grab the chip when there’s a shake in metal, a rumble and an alarm starts to blare. Walls of the factory shake, the faint sound of gunfire.

“What the…? Shit Militech!” Dum-Dum yells out, they must have known the corp was on their tail.

“Rusty fucking cunt,” Royce curses and the Maelstrom members start to rush out and V moves; grabbing the Flathead case and stuffing it into her backpack as soon as eyes aren’t on them.

“Shit, Militech got antsy” Jackie tells her over the alarm.

“Who gives a shit, we got-”

“Hey!” Dum-Dum yells back at them, from a higher platform, and for a moment she thinks he’s going to fight them for the bot, “lets get the fuck out of here, follow me.”

Her and Jackie exchange a look, V just shrugging, if he wants to help out why not. V quickly climbs up the yellow ladder up to the platform, following behind Dum-Dum, Jackie not far behind her. Dum-Dum opens a door and it opens into what a room with consoles and the stench of meat hanging in the air.

“Ay, huele feo, this meat! Ack.. I can taste it,” Jackie sounds like he’s on the verge of puking his guts up.

“Production line, besides, thought you liked meat?”

“We'll ride the line. Flip it on.”

V follows behind Dum-Dum, climbing up a set of crates and onto a scaffolding. The production line is blocked, unmoving in years she’d assume. But on a console is a large red button lined with yellow, she punches it and metal sheets moves from the way, production line whirring to life as red lights color the metal passageways. Dum-Dum jumps across the small gap and climbs down the ladder.

“Hey, Doo Dum or whatever your name is, why you even helpin' us??” Jackie asks as V jumps the little gap and platforms but skips the ladder, jumping down the short distance.

“I'm not. Helpin' myself. Soon as the shootin' starts, I got two walkin' bullet sponges with me. Sponges who'll shoot back.”

The three walk through the narrow corridor, production line billow steam at them as the pathway opens up to another raised section of scaffolding, a section of it missing and allowing them to drop through and down onto another that surrounds a large hangar, gunfire rings out. Malestrom and Militech soldiers screaming at one another.

“C’mon let’s go!”

“You say come on one more time!”

Dum-Dum rushes down the platform and into the thick of it, quick to fight alongside his fellow Maelstrommers. And god, she’s not a fan of the gang, but watching soldiers with military grade armor and equipment trying to shoot down the group of mini-borgs… Maybe she just hates corps that fucking much. They could sneak out, let Maelstrom and Militech tear each other part, run with the bot and the eddies.

“That whackjobs got no chance,” Jackie says, “maybe we give ‘em a hand.”

“Lets.”

And she jumps the banister of the platform, landing clean onto a Militech soldier’s back and extends her Mantis Blades. They slice cleanthrough his neck and he goes limp underneath her, bleeding onto the production floor. V is up the next instant, running full charge into another man’s chest, knocking him off his center of gravity, landing on his chest and stabbing her blade through his heart before he can throw her off. Back on her feet and fighting in the next moment.

There is no stealth here, no technique or strategy, just kill or be killed. She moves quick, swinging a blade up to slice a soldier navel to throat. Bringing a blade clean down into another’s shoulder. Takes another’s legs out and they slice clean off, the tactical armored clothes like butter to the Mantis Blades.

A Militech boot lands square on her chest before she can slice through them, the kick knocks the air from her lungs, staggering her backwards Her head collides with a metal door, Mantis Blades retracting as she hits the ground. The Miltech worker points his gun at her. But before his finger can pull that trigger, a machete is brought down into the junction between his shoulder and neck, ripped back out in a spurt of blood. The man goes down, Jackie behind him.

“Got you, chica.” He says, pulling her up, a layer of blood has started to stick to both of them. And as she gets to her feet, she catches a glimpse through the window in the door. Bright red lights of servers, a large computer.

She looks past Jackie into the room, a large swath of Militech agents taken down. Maelstrom still battling the few left in the area. She doesn’t know what will be waiting for her when she breaks through, Meredith’s promise of seeing her soon if V pulled anything like this.

“C’mon,” V opens the door and quickly yanks Jackie into the server room.

“The hell are you doing?”

“Want to check something, bargaining chip, just in case,”

Blood coated fingers swipe open the computer screen, pulling up the messages and files Maelstrom has saved. A message named Transports- LOA catches her eye, any Nomad worth their salt knows LOA is used by corps who intentionally “lose” their cargo. She opens it, the message from Anthony Gilchrist telling one of the gang members how to get their hands on the convoy. Meredith has her mole. V jacks into the console and downloads the fill to her neural implants.

“What’s up?”

“Militech rep wanted to find her mole. She tries to get payback, I got intel,” V jacks out of the terminal, “lets go.”

They rush out of the server room and throw themselves back into the fray, slicing through Militech soldiers, as if they were never gone. V goring a soldier with both blades as Jackie blows the brains out of the last one.

Dum-Dum leads them through the rest of the plant, turns and curves and stairways, a maze of metal. The three cutting their way through Militech soldiers one body after the other, clearing the room after room. Until they open a door at the top of a stair case, showing what may have once been a massive garage portion of the plant.

“I’ll melt your fuckin’ skin off!” Royce screams and laughs from inside a Militech armored exoskeleton, using it to fire off a massive gun that bursts flames around the feet of the soldiers. They shoot and fire at Royce along with a large automated robot

“We gotta help him!” Dum-Dum yells out, rushing into the fray to help his boss, Royce cackling as the soldier try to shoot him.

“He's fuckin' happy! That's almost contagious!” Jackie laughs, him and V jumping in to help.

Dum-Dum, Jackie, and V focus on the soldiers; trying to get their fire off of Royce, so he can focus on the heavy duty robot blasting back at him. Pure reflex as bullets fly, blades slash, and body after body falls down at their feet. Chaos, adrenaline; Royce’s manic cackling making them want to laugh too. Last bit if human soldiers down, Its all on taking down the hulking robot that, it’s armored outside burned and damaged, but not destroyed by the heavy fire Royce blasts it with. V sheaths her blades within her arms, getting her gun from it’s holster and firing round after round into the tech. Jackie and Dum-Dum do the same; five guns, it sputters and sparks, one finally piercing the core of its circuits. The heap of metal collapsing.

“Khe. The hell're you still doin' here...?” Royce scoffs when he sees Jackie and V are still there.

“Helping, apparently,” V signs in response, she doesn’t expect much in the way of gratitude. But a little acknowledgement that her and Jackie did a lot of heavy lifting here would be nice.

“Take your fuckin’ bot and go.”

She was going to anyway, not caring about nor needing his permission to steal what they need, but the fact that he’s giving it to them is not lost on V. Maybe it’s his own odd way of showing gratitude for helping tear through Militech soldiers. Or maybe he’s just too tired to give a fuck.

“I'll walk 'em out,” Dum-Dum offers.

“You here to kick our asses out”

“Huh? No. Wanted to let you know I like your style,” he points them down a hallway, a door marked exit, “here you go.”

“Can’t fucking believe that guy,” Jackie grumbles as him and V start out the towards the exit.

“What is your problem with him? First the couch and now this?”

“Don’t like the fucker’s tone,” Jackie says opening the exit door, “guy rubbed my dick the wrong way.”

“Well, maybe you should stop letting random dudes rub your dick,” V teases him for his choice of words as they finally get a breath of fresh air, well, as fresh as Night City air gets.

“Fuck- oh shit.”

“Oh fuck.”

Outside the All Foods gateway is Meredith Stout, surrounded by Militech marked vans and a handful of guards. They block the only exit, standing between the mercs and their vehicles. Meredith’s eyes land squarely on V; lips pulling back in a sneer, eyes brimming with contempt.

“That the Militech bitch?”

“Un-fucking-fortunately.”

“You.” Meredith all but snarls, glaring V down as the mercs walk closer, standing before the corpo.

“Me.”

“Hmm, bet you didn’t expect to see me here, did you? Thought you could fuck me over, kill your tail and you could just do whatever you wanted?”

“You gave me a spiked chip, were going to leave me cleaning up Militech’s mess. You tried to fuck me over first.”

“And somewhere at the start someone fucked the corp, but in the end the corp always wins. Try as hard as you want, all you’ve done is proven I got nothing to lose by getting rid of you.”

“Oh but you do,” V’s word make Meredith’s eyebrow raise, “I mean, if you want to know who your mole is.”

“You know?”

“Yeah, Maelstrom was so busy trying to fight off your men, didn’t even notice me looking through their computer. Got the file on me, could send it to you, but if you’re just going to kill me, not much point.”

“Send the file and I’ll let you go.”

“And how do I know you won’t blow my brains out the second it goes through?”

“You don’t, but you do know I’ll kill you if you don’t send it.”

V rolls her eyes and her mask interface lights up as she sends the data to Meredith; the corpo woman’s eyes glowing a bright blue light as it transfers.

“I fucking knew it,” Meredith blurts out, “Gilchrist you sack of shit.”

“We good?”

“I got what I needed… you know, this was pretty clever of you.”

“Was it?”

“Throw me off, get me to attack the plant, get Maelstrom on your side, but get the info to keep Militech happy too. Bet you’re ten thousand eddies richer and got your bot, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Mind like that, maybe a couple years down the line, you could be standing where I am.”

And V’s stomach churns, her actions being compared to corporate skullduggery and backstabbing. V did what she had to and in the end she didn’t side with the corp. She bites the inside of her lip and she glares through her mask at the corporate cunt.

“Think I’d rather ride a sandpaper dildo, actually.”

Meredith scoffs, “let them through.”

The sea of Militech soldier parts; the two mercs allowed to walk through. Jackie all but collapses, leaning against his motorcycle, there’s still blood sticking to his hands. She’s still coated in a heavy layer herself.

“Not going to lie, wasn’t sure we’d make it out of that one. But, hey; no begging, no debt, eddies in a pocket and we got the bot. That’s the way to do biz, V.”

“We make a good team, plus I’m starting to think we’re just really lucky.”

“Ain't you a ray of sunshine. But, V, it ain't a matter of luck. You decide, chica. Remember that, part of why I love this town. The city of endless opportunity. And brotherly hate. But if you got the cojones and know how to use ‘em, you can do damn near anything.”

“Or die trying.”

“Even then you go out with a bang! And the street'll talk, the street'll remember. Win-win.”

“Rather the street talk about me while I’m alive to hear it, but maybe that’s just me; so what next?”

“Call up Dex, let him know we got his bot for him.”

V does just that, pulling up Dex’s contact and calling him, patching the call into Jackie’s too. Her friend’s optics glowing as the holophone rings. Dex answering after just a moment, puffing away on a cigar in the video panel.

“How're things lookin’, Miss V?”

“Managed to grab the bot.”

“And how’d it go? Run into any trouble? And what about the Militech angle, Bug told me you hacked some sort of cred chip?”

“Course there was trouble, but ended up not even needing the chip. Was ready to spike Maelstrom, when Militech got antsy. While they were ripping each other’s throats out, we got the bot and an extra ten thousand eddies for our trouble.”

“You got some balls, Miss V.”

“So, what now?”

“Now, we get to work on doing the job I hired you for- grabbing that biochip. Get some sleep, you and Jackster. Because tomorrow, we start prepping for the real heist. Have a car picking you up in the morning.”

With that, the fixer hangs up, Jackie and V exchanging looks.

“What you think he’s got in store for us?”

“I don’t know, we’re gonna have to play corpo to get into that hotel, should be interesting.”

“Either way, I’m off for the night,” Jackie says, climbing onto his arch, “hasta luego, V.”

She waves him off, watching him drive off down the streets of Night City. Her body and mind feel tired, limbs heavy and still caked with blood. But, she’s not sure how well she’ll sleep tonight. Nerves and excitement, there’s no telling what tomorrow will hold.

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #silverv #johnny silverhand #female v #jackie welles #misty olszewski #viktor vector #meredith stout #aidan becker #aidan v becker

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platypanthewriter · 4 years

Text

Baby’s First Punk Rock Concert: 1/2

Billy hummed to himself, washing his hands. His knees were scuffed from the cement floor, his throat was raw, and he wanted a drink to wash the taste of latex away. He grinned in the mirror at the man behind him, who slid an arm around him and squeezed, licking the sweat off his neck and kissing his ear.

“You sure you don’t want to leave now,” he whispered, rocking his pelvis against Billy’s ass.

Billy laughed, elbowing him away. “Show hasn’t even started.”

“Give me your number,” the guy tried next, and Billy looked him over.

“Just here for a good time,” Billy told him, leaning in for a kiss as he slid by.

“Have a good night, you’re beautiful!” the guy yelled as he opened the door on the rest of the bar, and Billy’s cheeks heated as he considered heel-turning right back in and letting himself get hauled to some dude’s apartment.

I can make it a couple weeks, he thought, without calling up some random asshole to tell me I’m pretty. That’s a thing a normal person should be able to do.

The bar was crowded—everybody wanting to get their drinks before the opening act started—and Billy got jostled into exactly the kind of homophobic dickheads that made trouble at Dicks shows. He wondered, in the back of his mind, what looks they’d have on their faces when Gary Floyd walked out in drag. They didn’t like a t-shirt, apparently, from the slurs they were guffawing, and the actual lost child they had braced against the wall was swallowing convulsively, with huge eyes. The bartender caught Billy’s eye, and jerked her head at the kid. “Go ahead and make another dent on my bar, Billy,” she shouted.

“Hey hey,” Billy said, leaning between their heads, and interrupting their flow of critique of the kid’s t-shirt. He slid his arms around their shoulders to show them his hands. “—lookie, my knuckles’ve just about healed up from the Nazis I hadta smash into that bar! Y’know what that means,” he whispered against the ear of the one to his left, who’d gone rigid, staring around at a grim bartender and silent patrons,“—what that means, is,” he told the one on his right, “—my knuckles are itchy.”

They scrambled away, and the kid they’d had cornered took a shaky breath.

“Freebies on me,” the bartender smacked a beer and a bottled water on the bar next to them, and Billy took a long grateful pull on the beer.

The kid stared at her, then the beer, then Billy—and Billy tried not to snort his beer as the wide brown eyes followed his throat as he swallowed, then looked over his chest where his shirt was unbuttoned, before blinking back up, red-cheeked, at Billy’s face, and grabbing clumsily for the water. Of course he’s hot for me, Billy bit back a grin, a middle-schooler who sneaks in to see a band that made J.D.’s Top Ten Homocore hits. “You, uh, here with a…” he trailed off, frowning around, “—a—somebody else?”

The kid’s eyes widened, and then narrowed at Billy, and he nodded.

“You want me to stick around until they show back up?”

The kid’s eyes narrowed further, and he startled as somebody rattled by on a skateboard, so Billy backed away. “Stay over here, and that bartender will keep an eye on you,” Billy told him, finishing the last couple swallows of the beer, and waving for another.

“I won’t let him get drunk—what are you, twelve?! The hell did you get in here—” the bartender yelled over the crowd, pushing back from the bar to run to the other end.

The kid didn’t look like he was gonna answer the question. He still held the water bottle with his fingertips, like it might explode, and Billy accepted a shot glass from somebody who clapped him on the back.

“Anyway,” Billy tossed back the shot and shifted, thinking. His shoes stuck to the floor. “If you need anything. You want a t-shirt? I can shove people around. Get you in to buy a t-shirt.”

The kid flushed even more red, staring at him, and Billy grinned, shaking his head.

“Okay, well, you know I’m here. Drink lots of water, okay. Only gonna get hotter in here. You got earplugs?”

“Wha?” the kid whispered, clearing his throat.

“Here,” Billy said, slapping some in his hand, “—thank me when you can hear tomorrow.”

The kid nodded, watching him go, and Billy resisted swaggering, not wanting to be the cause of a child’s dislocated jaw.

He was zoned into the music, yelling, when he ran into the girls. He'd yanked his shirt off and shoved most of it into his back pocket so somebody with “VEGAN DYKE” scrawled across her bared breasts could write “QUEER” across his chest in lipstick. He'd always looked good in red.

“Hoy Billy!” Kali yelled, and he waved back, chugging enough of his beer to not spill it as he wove through the crowd.

“Hey,” he shouted back, clinking their drinks together.

Her lips thinned, scanning the crowd, and then she stood on her toes to yell up. “Where’s the jackass?”

“What?!”

“Your other half?!”

Billy cleared his throat. “He wasn’t,” Billy shouted back, then mouthed, then mimed a wedding ring, pulling it off, and tossing it over his shoulder.

She elbowed him, grinning, and yanked him down by the shoulder. “You’re better off—BETTER OFF,” she tried to stage-whisper over the crowd, loud as microphone feedback in his ear, and he shoved her off. The kid from earlier was staring at him through Kali and El like a pygmy owl through underbrush, and Billy shrugged, waving.

When the set ended, El surveyed the crowd, her hands over her ears. “Maybe you’ll find a new boyfriend here,” she suggested. “D’you see anyone you think is attractive? I could—”

“Pretty happy as a free agent, for now,” Billy cut her off, laughing. “Don’t drag anyone over.”

“I could, though,” she said, squinting. “What about that one? He could pick you up, probably, we could ask him to try.”

Billy choked on his beer, and Kali smacked his back.

“We're not holding try-outs, El. I think he wants to shop around,” she said, and Billy nodded, eyeing El’s pick. She knew him better than he thought, apparently, because the line of the worn t-shirt stretched over the man’s shoulderblades down to his very tight jeans had Billy’s definite attention, and the lipstick made something relax between his shoulders. But the stranger was screaming something at the stage, and waving a clenched fist, and Billy shook his head.

“Want me to see how the front of his jeans look?” El asked, miming a crotch bulge, and even Kali nearly spit her drink, cackling.

“No, nah,” Billy laughed, grinning down at her. “Think I’d like to try somebody who doesn’t start out pissed off, this time.”

Kali grimaced, shook her head, and squeezed his arm.

El shrugged, sliding an arm around Kali, and the kid. “We’re thirsty. Oh, this is Will,” she told Billy, pointing behind her as she and Kali cut away through the crowd, and the kid nodded, glancing up at BIlly with narrowed eyes.

“Me too,” Billy shrugged, glancing over at him, and lighting a cigarette. “William, I mean. Billy Hargrove.”

“Will Byers. Um, thank you. For earlier,” the kid said, finally, and Billy nodded, squinting at him through the smoke and dim lighting from the stage. He had a too-large shirt hanging half off one shoulder. It had some kind of calligraphy on it, hard to make out.

“…aren’t you a little young for beer?” Billy asked.

“I’m thirteen. Almost fourteen,” the kid shot back, and Billy remembered telling people he was six and three-quarters, and covered a snort.

“Yeah, sure. Y’know, when you’re old enough to go to school, they’ll teach you how to count up your age,” he said, dodging a swift elbow. “Nice shirt. That an elf?”

“…shut up,” the boy frowned down at his shirt, and firmed his little pointy chin, clenching his hands into fists.

Billy shrugged. “Looks like Lord of the Rings or something. Elves.”

“It’s Cirith Ungol ,” Will hissed up, scowling. “I know, not the place for metal, here, those assholes told me—wait, you—you read Lord of the Rings?”

“Yeah, who knew, I can read,” Billy whispered back, and Will sighed, rolling his eyes. Billy relented. “I even read the Silmarillion.”

“Really?!” Will squeaked, beaming, and bouncing a little on his toes, and yanking his t-shirt taut to show it off. “Cirith Ungol is from the Lord of the Rings! They’re—they’re a band named after a place in Lord of the Rings!”

“I know,” Billy grinned down at him. “On the way to Mordor.”

“I—I like Faramir,” Will bit his lips, swallowing, his eyes searching Billy’s face. “I—I reread all the Faramir parts, I l-love Faramir—”

“Everybody wants Faramir,” Billy whispered back, holding his hand under the QUEER on his chest like he was selling his titties on the Price is Right. “I’ve got the book in my car,” he added, clinking his glass into the kid’s water bottle. “How d’you know El and Kali?”

“Oh. My brother’s girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend teaches their little-league team,” Will answered, as though that was a comprehensible thing to say, and Billy choked on his beer.

“Kali’s in—” he cocked his head, grinning through the crowd, and trying to imagine her in a baseball cap and white button-up uniform.

“Oh, she’s not any more. But their mom—”

Foster mom, Billy thought, wondering whether Will wasn’t aware, or just didn’t see the difference.

“—she gets everybody who wants into Little League, says kids should get to swing bats around. Um. I—I do want a t-shirt,” he admitted, still beaming that bewildered smile up at Billy like he couldn’t believe he was awake, and Billy covered his grin with his beer.

“Let’s elbow our way in, then,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

In the thick of the crowd, and the thick of the smoke, it was hard to get people’s attention, but Billy smacked shoulders, and yelled in the politest way of his people, and once they turned around and saw Will’s determined jaw, and he pointed from his shirt to the merch table, they pushed him onwards, yelling a course open.

By the time they reached the stage he was travelling with a company of pierced, painted protectors suited for his fantasy novels. He thanked a towering woman in platform combat shoes, a person in a clown suit of indeterminate gender, and a group of men with their arms around each other like they were in a musical football huddle, and they smacked his shoulders. Will giggled, bouncing a little on his toes.

At the table there were shirts for both bands, and Will steepled his fingers before selecting one of each. The crowd around him, now invested, cheered, and he ducked his head, grinning. There wasn’t a shirt small enough, of course, but Will looked delighted with the two t-shirts he bought, hugging them to his chest and turning to face the tide of humanity, when the other band walked onstage, and introduced themselves as the Big Boys.

The singer did a spin in his tutu, waving to the audience, and everyone yowled at the first riff of guitar, shouting “Biscuit!” and song names. Will’s eyes widened as he got shoved back into the table, nearly overturning it. Billy planted his feet against the press of people, feeling like a herd beast protecting its child from a stampede. The surrounding punks started yelling—both about Will, and at the musicians, and Billy crouched, patting at his own shoulders. He tried to yell instructions through the wall of noise, but Will just blinked at him.

Will’s hands were white-knuckled on his haul, and Billy slapped his shoulder to get his attention, pointed to all of him, and then Billy’s own shoulders again, and held his hands out. After a headcocked moment, Will nodded, and Billy picked him up and plonked him astride Billy’s head. Like that, Will could see, and Billy could dance, as much as anyone could, wedged in the crowd. Somebody started throwing food—Billy honestly wasn’t sure whether it was the crowd or the band—and the opening riffs of Fun, Fun, Fun started, and Will nearly climbed onto his head.

The singer whooped, waving, and Will waved back—and the guitarist beckoned him up, grabbing some other fan who’d crawled halfway onto the stage and hauling her up by the belt. Billy elbowed closer, steadying Will as he climbed on the stage, and the singer introduced himself as Biscuit, grappling Will and a pile of other fans to sing the chorus into the microphone.

The rest of the concert was a blur of adrenaline, as Billy panicked a bit over Will’s choice to crowdsurf to him, but he arrived safely, and Billy double-checked that he was wearing the earplugs. Will climbed back up his shoulders, shouting along with the lyrics, and Billy relaxed into the pounding drums, letting himself be jostled and heated by the music and people roaring around him.

After the last encore—when most of the audience was still onstage, singing the chorus of Hollywood Swinging for the seven hundredth time, and the Big Boys had yelled their signature “Now y’all go start your own band!”—El ran up and grabbed Billy’s arm, waving to Kali.

“Couldn’t get to you,” Kali panted, grinning up at Will.

“I got on stage!” Will yelled, and El cheered.

“You don’t have anything written on you,” she told them, pointing out the “ANARCHY!” written across her back, between the straps of her tank top. “Do you want me to write something on you? It’s sticky.”

“No,” Will giggled. He let himself drape forward against the back of Billy’s head, heaving a long sigh. “That was fun, fun, fun.”

Billy caught the momentary relief on Kali’s face, before she smiled. “Our ride’s probably waiting,” she said, for some reason, to Billy.

El blinked. “Oh! Will, have you called Steve?”

“Noooo,” Will snickered, high on adrenaline, and possibly the smoke. “I still need to call him.”

“Mmmm,” El frowned, glancing at the door.

“I can stay with him,” Billy offered, shrugging. “Since he, y’know. He goddamn...lives on my head now. Climbing monkey.” Will giggled.

“Oh,” El gasped, wide-eyed, “—Kali. Steve’s coming to pick Will up. Steve. Billy’s going to meet Steve.”

Kali drug her away, muttering about yentas, and waved over her shoulder at them.

“Thanks for the ticket, Kali!” Will bawled after them, and Billy snorted, shaking his head, and went to get another bottle of water for both of them.

“Gotta pee?” he asked his nesting owl, and Will hugged his head.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Well, I do,” Billy told him. “You gotta get down sometime. You can call your ride.”

After a long moment of silence, Will sighed, swinging a leg back over Billy’s shoulder, and he helped manhandle the kid to the ground.

Despite his original plans coming to a queercore concert, Billy hurried in the bathroom, avoiding eye contact, to come out and see Will perusing somebody’s zines. They were laid out on jackets on the floor, with some empty shot glasses. The ladies selling them were half-asleep—probably stoned, Billy gauged, from the red eyes under their skull makeup, and the smell of the smoke—but they smirked goodhumoredly at Will’s questions about who wrote them, and how they were printed (“Photocopied,” one whispered, giggling), and whose pictures and articles were inside.

“Her poetry’s in there,” the left one leaned to kiss the right one, and Will gaped, again, as he’d done all night, every time somebody did anything queer. He grabbed the zine, scrabbling for his wallet, and glancing up at Billy. The whole selection was probably pornographically gay, but Billy shrugged, knowing from his own squinting experience that the pictures would be so badly photocopied Will’s imagination would have to do all the work.

“I’m a dollar short of buying all of them,” Will said, resting his chin on his hands to survey what looked like their own homebrew edition of Queercore, and the latest Dr Smith and JDs , and Billy rolled his eyes and dug out his wallet. The woman on the left patted her jacket down, and pulled out a blunt—she handed it to the one on the right, who lit up—then tugged at her inside pocket, grinning at Billy. She yanked at it again. "I've—I've got Last Rites' Code Blue," she whispered, jerking a cassette free, and waving it upside down, and Will made a soft noise in his throat, reaching for it.

"So do I," Billy leaned to whisper in Will's ear, and handed over the dollar for the zines. "I'll make you a copy, if you like."

“Thank you,” Will told them, and then beamed up at Billy, who rolled his eyes and helped the kid fold everything up so he could carry it. “...uh, Steve said, um, he said he could pick me up at the diner. Around the corner?”

As they wove through the remaining—extremely drunk—crowd, Will grabbed him by the shoulder, and started trying to climb his back again. Billy piggy-backed him out to the parking lot, which had turned into an impromptu drunken skate park. Somebody'd brought spraypaint, and they were painting skateboards. Will nearly fell off, staring at the flips, and Billy got his leather jacket out of his motorcycle saddlebag—only to register Will hanging over his shoulder to reach for it like he was in the middle of a religious experience.

Billy waved it back and forth, and the kid’s head followed. Billy shivered, sweaty as he was in the night air, but held the jacket up. “You want to try it?”

“Yeh!” Will squeaked. “Yeh-yes!”

Billy sighed, and hefted his charge towards the diner, grinning to himself at Will’s describing every song as though Billy hadn’t been paying attention.

“Oh!” Will yelped, smacking his shirts and zines over Billy’s chest just in time for Billy to push at the door.

“Right,” Billy snorted, remembering the word scrawled across his chest, and finding an empty booth.

Will interrogated Billy on his order, his music taste, Lord of the Rings, and was just rounding back to hashbrowns or toast—Billy shook his head again, laughing, his stomach if not his brain still entirely full of beer—when a man in a pink polo shirt, smelling of clean laundry, soap, and faint cologne, swung into the booth and grinned at the server.

“Hashbrowns for me,” he panted. His sleeved arm was warm against Billy’s sweaty one, and his thigh pressed against Billy’s jeans.

“We can stay?” Will asked, wide-eyed, and Steve cast a sideways glance at Billy.

“Unless you’ve got somewhere to be. Steve Harrington.” He held out a hand, and Billy wiped his hand on his jeans before shaking it.

“Billy Hargrove,” he replied, realizing his voice was hoarse, and Steve’s eyes sparkled when he smiled.

“I didn’t think you’d even get in,” Steve told Will. “When you said—”

“Oh, they get shut down all the time,” Billy told him, half-laughing, half-cringing. “They don’t even have a liquor license.”

“Or a sign,” Will whispered. “They used to be a gay bar.”

“That they did.” Billy accepted coffee from the server, who winked at him.

“Billy helped me get t-shirts,” Will told Steve, grabbing one from the pile of leather jacket, t-shirts, and zines next to him. “He let me sit on his shoulders.”

“Oh, did he?” Steve ran his fingers though his hair, missing the part where it stuck up at the back, and Billy’s itched to follow them. Steve’d be asleep, Will’d explained, in the middle of the night—and now having seen him it was impossible for Billy not to imagine Steve Harrington sprawled across silken sheets. Snoring, probably, or possibly grinning, like now, as he listened to this nerdy kid Billy was fairly certain he barely knew.

Will gave Steve a play-by-play on the concert, and Steve laughed when the kid waxed melodramatic about Billy’s rescue. “He scared them off with his arms,” Will slumped sideways against his pile of clothes, one leg kicking in the air. “And his tattoos.”

“Sounds pretty heroic,” Steve said, leaning to bump his shoulder against Billy’s, and Billy laughed, biting his lip.

“He’s all sweaty everywhere because he let me sit on his shoulders the whole time,” Will continued, and Billy let his head thump back against the wall of the booth, staring at the ceiling, and wondering why he had ever been born.

“Oh, I’ve been to concerts,” Steve laughed. “It’s hot in there. Particularly if you’re carrying some tiny shithead.” He grinned over at Billy, then jerked, muttering as Will kicked him under the table.

Billy grinned back, relaxing a bit. “You don’t mind a little sweat, Harrington?”

Steve snorted, watching Billy’s mouth, then bit his own. He met Billy’s eyes as he let his lip slide between his teeth, and Billy stared, feeling a dull ache as his fingers dug into his thighs, trying to distract himself from his dick wanting to leap out of his jeans.

Will's voice broke the spell. “He helped me up on the stage and I got to sing with them—”

“What, really?” Steve looked back at Will, distracted, and Billy took a slow breath, wondering if Steve could possibly be unaware of the letters across his chest. Wondering whether this preppy Ivy-League looking kid would let Billy suck him off in the bathroom before he drove away, and forgot people like Billy Hargrove existed.

“They, um,” Billy said, swallowing, and trying to remember the question. “They do that. Big Boys. They get the audience onstage.”

By the time the food arrived, Will was rambling about Billy’s need to read Farmer Giles of Ham, and the affect of Tolkien on Led Zeppelin—Billy thought, because Steve Harrington kept unleashing smiles down at his cup of coffee like guided ballistic missiles.

@sky2fall Hope you like it! Thanks to The Dicks and Big Boys for their image and fictional likeness!

#harringrove #harringrove for Australia #Billy + Will friendship #platypan #platypan fic

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thornescratch · 5 years

Note

"To be honest I'm like 90% sure Ovi has a kink for getting yelled at by goalies so". Hey, so... I'm intrigued by this tag, PLEASE EXPLAIN

SO GLAD YOU ASKED.

Olie Kolzig: Ovi and I had a great relationship. I said from Day 1, this kid is special. I loved the kid. I loved how involved he wanted to be in the North American culture, learning the language as quickly as he could. There was just this exuberance about him that everybody fell in love with – until he became a star, and then everybody villainized him for it. What I always admired about Ovi was that he just truly loves playing hockey. He’s excited to come to the rink.

Tarik El Bashir: Do you recall the time when Ovechkin may have celebrated a bit too much after scoring a shootout goal on you in practice? You got pretty mad.

Olie Kolzig: Yeah, I yelled, “Why didn’t you do that in the game?” We had competitions in practice. He actually got a kick out of me chasing him around. It was a lot of fun.

***

Braden Holtby: These days, Ovechkin rarely uncorks a one-timer at full speed in practice. At least not with a goalie in the net.“Oh, we’ve had our run-ins in the past,” Holtby said, laughing. “I think that’s why he doesn’t do that too often anymore. I think he realizes how powerful it is and how dangerous it can be when your own teammate is in there.”

***

Carter Hutton: During the game, he’s definitely a guy that likes to talk to the goalies. I’ve always noticed that. He’s a guy that’s not shy coming around your net letting you know he’s coming to get one. … And obviously he backs it up a lot.

***

SCoC: He was trying to show off and snipe and he kept hitting the veteran goalie right in the face mask. So the goalie pulled him aside and was like “Sasha, if you hit me in the face one more time, I will smash my stick over your head,” and Ovi was super apologetic, then accidentally hit him in the face again on his next shot. Apparently he had ketchup in his skates for the next few weeks.

***

Carey Price: He’s had my number for a while, so it was nice to get him back once.

***

Tarik El Bashir: Someday Ovechkin is going to tell me what he says to opposing goaltenders after they make nice stops on him.

***

Henrik Lundqvist: Over the 10 years, he’s adjusted his game. Everybody does, because you change as a person, you change physically and you understand the game better. Especially as a goal scorer, it’s more about placement, being in the right spot, reading the game. That way you save a lot of energy and not skate around and hit everybody all of the time. He still does that, but he doesn’t do it as much. He’s matured a lot…

There are a bunch of players in the league that stand out. I think [Alex] Ovechkin is one of the best goal scorers of all time, not only right now. If you look what he does—if someone was able to do that 20 years ago, I think they would have a lot more goals. It’s very impressive to see someone who plays like him score that many goals. He’s just very determined when it comes to scoring chances and trying to get the puck in the net.

(”All series, baby, all series.”)

***

Marc Andre Fleury: This entire sequence.

In conclusion, pretty sure Ovi gets a boner from pulling goalie pigtails and then running away giggling when they try and whack him, thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#Anonymous #Alexander Ovechkin #Olaf Kolzig #Henrik Lundqvist #Carter Hutton #Carey Price #Tarik El Bashir #Braden Holtby #Marc Andre Fleury #Washington Capitals #Ovi gonna Ovi #Ovi best

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youtuberswithalex · 4 years

Text

PRVL Vol. 3, Ch. 2: New Challengers...

(A/N: "I'm not gonna update every week" I said, before I proceeded to scramble to finish this chapter today so it could go up one week after the first chapter)

Summary: On their way back to their dorm, Team PRVL meets a couple of interesting characters that teach them a little more about one of their teammates.

Word Count: 4,168

Warnings: Fighting (in a tournament), cursing

Taglist: @haikyuupaladin @an0therrand0 @isabel3710 @ilia-a-isms (Let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

Masterpost – Volume 1 -- Previous -- Next

—–

Stepping off of the airship, Virgil wrapped his arms around himself. “You guys really don’t have to come, if you don’t want,” he said. “Seriously, I’m fine.”

“It’s okay, Virgil,” Patton insisted. “We could all use a break. Maybe we can even go to the fair grounds to get something to eat!”

Roman gasped as he jumped to hover in front of them. “Ooh, doesn’t Simple Wok have a booth?! We should check that out at some point!”

“Ah, yes, over-priced and over-salted noodles,” Logan grumbled. “What a wise use of our Lien.”

“There’s more than just noodles in them, Logan,” Roman shot, crossing his arms. “Have you ever had the seafood special? The fish is cooked to perfection!”

Patton paled, and his voice cracked. “What?!”

“Uhh, I mean…”

Virgil grunted and took a step away from them. “Look, you guys go wherever you want. I’m going back to our room.”

“It would be beneficial for you to eat something,” Logan pointed out.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You may not feel like it, but after a panic attack like that—”

“Logan, I’m not eating!”

The other three froze, and the air around them grew tense; other students passing by shot them a look, to which Virgil curled away from. He let out a huff and frowned, rubbing his face.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m just…”

“Overwhelmed,” Patton softly finished.

Virgil slowly nodded. “Yeah.”

Roman let out a hum and landed. He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder, but when he ripped away, he settled for placing it on his own hip instead. “Maybe taking a break isn’t such a bad idea.”

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, Virgil let his arms relax a bit. “Yeah, that… That sounds good. I just don’t want to keep you guys from anything.”

“Personally, I don’t know of anything that would require our presence immediately,” Logan said. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Logan! Logan!!”

“Logie!!”

Logan froze, eyes widening as he spun around. The others followed suit.

“Uh, Lo?” Patton asked. “Do you know them?”

Further down the path, and man and a woman were sprinting towards them. The man’s face was mostly covered by a dark blue cloak and medical mask, and the woman’s head by a hijab, but Logan didn’t need those details to know exactly who they were.

He blinked.

“Ah,” he said. “It’s my parents.”

“Your parents?!”

Before he could respond, the two tackled him to the ground.

The other three let out yelps and jumped to get them off, but were stopped by the sound of laughter. Logan wasn’t cringing or trying to get away; instead, his arms wrapped awkwardly around theirs, and he was laughing softly.

“Father, Esther, please!” he chuckled. “You’ll draw attention!”

“Oh, who’s gonna care?! All they’re seeing is a family that’s been separated for too long!” the man laughed.

Regardless, they pulled apart and climbed to their feet, pausing when they saw the wide eyes of the other three. The man gasped and pointed at them.

“You’re his teammates!” he exclaimed. “Patton, Roman, and Virgil, right?! You kids were fantastic today!”

The woman beamed and nodded, holding up a pair of balled fists. “A set of promising Huntsmen for sure! You’re the perfect team for our Logie!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, smirk forming. “’Logie’?”

“Yes, it’s a term of endearment Esther has attributed to me,” Logan explained.

Patton smiled, leaning out just a bit from where he was hidden behind Roman. “Aw, that’s sweet.”

“You know what else is sweet?! That knock out you made!” his father laughed, punching Logan’s shoulder. “What a hit!”

“That Sanders kid really had no idea what was coming!” Esther added. She pulled him into a headlock. “Way to beat the competition!”

He grabbed him from the other side before pecking Esther on the lips and ruffling Logan’s hair. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?!”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Oh, I may have gotten a few tips over the years from a couple of exquisite Hunters…”

“You two are Hunters, aren’t you?” Roman asked. “What in the world are you doing here? I thought Logan said you were on a mission in Vacuo of some sort!”

Logan’s father scoffed and waved his hand. “And miss the chance to watch our son in his first big league tournament? Never!” He yanked the medical mask down to his neck and beamed a bright, white grin. “You can call me Virtus. Really, it’s so great to meet you guys! Thanks for taking care of our son!”

“Oh, we’re not—”

“We aren’t really—”

Virtus let out a loud laugh and threw his head back. “Humble kids, huh? Reminds me of my days back at Haven!”

His hood tipped over, causing long, dirty blond hair to spill out and over his shoulders. Logan ripped away and scrambled to snatch it up, stuffing it back into place without missing a beat.

“Father!” he hissed. “You must keep your hood up! What if someone saw?!”

Grimacing, Virtus clung tight to his hood and spun his head wildly; as soon as he was sure no one was looking, he let out a breath.

“That was a close one,” he muttered. He reached up and ruffled Logan’s hair. “Thanks, kid.”

Logan pulled away and fixed it, but not without a small smile. “Just be careful.”

“Hey, that’s our line!” Esther laughed. She ran a quick hand through his hair, as well; he sighed and let it remain mussed.

“Um,” Roman said, “Why, exactly, is it, that you have you keep yourself hidden at all times?”

Virtus winked. “Well, when you’re Hunters like us, you gotta keep your potential enemies on their toes in case they’re searching for you!”

Virgil paled. “What?”

“You never know who’s after you,” Esther added, leaning forward and waving her fingers. “Someone could be right here, hiding in the shadows, just waiting for their moment to strike!”

“Please, you two. We aren’t children,” Logan said. He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at them. “We know the dangers that come with being Hunters. I would appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to frighten my friends, especially considering the fact that we’ve already had a few encounters with people trying to kidnap us.”

Virtus grinned. “How can you be kidnapped if you’re not kids anymore?”

“Father.”

Patton let out a giggle and slammed his hand over his mouth; Logan shot him a sharp glare.

“Do not encourage him, Patton,” he huffed.

He coiled back further behind Roman. “Sorry…”

Roman paused, glancing over his shoulder as Logan’s parents went back to doting all over him. Patton had his arms wrapped around himself as tight as the film that he could still practically feel yanking the sword out of his hands. He was chewing on his lip hard enough that Roman feared he was about to draw blood; his brows were furrowed, and his eyes wide, glued to Virtus’s boots.

Ah, Roman thought.

He pushed his wing back to cover Patton’s field of vision, and then he let out a wail, throwing a hand over his forehead.

“Oh, how parched I am after all that fighting! And how foolish I am for having left my water bottle in our dorm!” he cried. He fell back against Patton, light enough to keep them from falling over. “Please, Patton, I beg of you, go fetch it for me before I perish!”

Virgil raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “Roman, you can fly.”

“I beg thee, Patton!” he repeated. “And please, take our dear Virgil on this perilous journey! It could take weeks! Or months! Or however long it will take for a nap to replenish your energy!”

“Aw, you poor thing!” Patton exclaimed, muffled by the wing pressed against his face. “Of course we’ll go! Where’d you leave it?”

“I’m afraid I can’t remember! My mind is far too gone to recall! You’ll just have to spend however much time is needed to search for it!”

Logan rolled his eyes.

Patting Roman on the shoulder, Patton peered around and gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t you worry, kiddo. Virgil and I will find it!” he declared. “Where can we find you? You probably need to sit somewhere…”

“Oh, thank you!” Roman stood up straight and turned, keeping a wing out between Patton and Virtus. “Just contact me on my scroll, I’ll let you know! You are a saint, dearest Patton!”

He nodded and grabbed Virgil by the hand, dragging him off without another word. As soon as they were out of sight, Roman smiled and turned back to the Lyceums.

“I hear Team AMBR is about to have their match,” he said. “Would any of you like to join me in watching what is sure to be an almost flawless victory from two skilled students, one handsome boyfriend, and their wonderful yet irritating leader?”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were dying of dehydration?”

“Oh, no! That was just a ploy to get those two to go take a nap!” Roman admitted. “I don’t even own a water bottle, truthfully!”

“Roman, you realize that Patton is just going to spend his whole afternoon searching for that nonexistent water bottle instead, right?” Logan pointed out.

He paused, and then he shrugged. “I’m sure Virgil will figure it out and explain it to him.”

Logan sighed. He turned to face his parents and placed his hands behind his back. “Well, if it’s alright with you two, I would like to watch some more matches and evaluate the students of the other schools. I know you’ve probably seen more than enough fighting out in the field and aren’t too excited to watch more—”

“Are you kidding?! I was worried you were gonna say no!” Virtus exclaimed.

Logan and Roman blinked. “What?”

Esther laughed. “Oh, come on, you think it’s like this out in the field? It’s life or death out there!” she said. “Here, there are rules! You can root against your favorite team without worrying about the danger!”

“And your partner getting knocked out doesn’t mean they’re going to be killed,” Virtus added, shooting a wink at Roman.

“Besides, we’re not going to be here for the whole competition. As long as we’re spending time with you and your friends, Logie, we’d love to do whatever you guys want while we’ve got the time!”

“Oh. Um, well,” Logan stuttered, “Then I suppose we’d better get back to the colosseum before we miss many more matches.”

Esther and Roman cheered; she held up a hand, which he gave a high five with a twirl in the air. As he shot off back towards the airships, she grabbed Logan’s hand and dragged him along, pressing a rough kiss into his hair. He let out a noise of protest, but followed along anyway.

Virtus stayed still for a moment and crossed his arms, watching them go with a soft smile. A warmth settled in his chest; he glanced up at the clouds before looking back at Logan.

A flash of magenta caught his eye. His smile dropped.

A woman with a long ponytail was stepping off the ship just in front of his family. Her back was turned, but her tattered, pink cloak revealed enough armor and ammo for him to take note.

She looked to the side. Sunlight glinted off of the metal guard over her mouth.

“Father?”

Virtus blinked, glancing to where Logan stood, raising his eyebrows at him. By the time he looked back to where she was, the woman was gone.

Narrowing his eyes, he pulled the medical mask back over his mouth and headed towards the ship.

----

New Message from: [Deleted]

Hey!

New Message from: [Deleted]

How have you been?

New Message from: [Deleted]

I hope you’ve been good. We’ve been doing alright here!

New Message from: [Deleted]

We love and miss you a lot

New Message from: [Deleted]

Call me sometime, okay?

Delete Messages?

>YES< >NO<

----

“And that’s it! Team SVIJ wins the match for Haven Academy!”

Nila leapt out of her seat, throwing her arms out. “What?! No way! He totally had her cornered!”

“Were we watching the same match?!” Roman shot back. “She wiped the floor with him!”

“Um, did you see his use of Fire Dust?!”

As the stage began to reset, Logan slid down and pinched the bridge of his nose. “At this rate, the two of you are going to start attracting Grimm…”

“Oh, it’s all in good fun! Haven’t you ever placed your bets on a match?” Virtus asked.

“Considering you never allowed me to go to matches by myself, no, I haven’t.”

On the other side of Logan, Thamir laughed. “We can bet on this one, if you’d like.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we both rooting for the same team?”

“Eh, like your dad said, it’s all in good fun. I’m sure they’ll understand,” Thamir replied. “Wanna wager… a cup of coffee?”

Logan smiled. “That sounds adequate.”

Thamir grinned and looked back at the field. “Good,” he said, “Cause I happen to know a nice little coffee shop down in Vale that’s got some pretty good stuff.”

“Oh? Which shop would that be?”

“Up next, we have Team SAMM of Atlas versus Team AMBR of Beacon!”

Roman screamed and shot into the air, gesturing wildly at the teams coming onto the field. “That’s my boyfriend!” he screeched. “That’s my boyfriend!”

“And your brother,” Lloyd called.

“Right, right, of course—Oh, look at how the light just accentuates his eyes! Look how handsome he is!”

“No wonder Anole doesn’t like them dating,” Thamir muttered.

Esther snorted and snuggled into Virtus’s arm. “That’s just young love.”

Riad turned around and waved up at Roman; in return, he beamed and shot a kiss. Grinning, Riad moved to give one back, but Anole grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around to face the other team before he got the chance.

“C’mon, dude, focus,” he huffed.

Riad let out a soft laugh and got into a fighting position. “Right. I’m all ears.”

“No, you’re not,” Marjani giggled, pulling her swords out of their sheaths. “You’re a whole body!”

“Babe, please,” Bora sighed.

Across the way, one of the four girls in front of them laughed.

“Thank the gods you clarified. I would have shifted my whole strategy to fighting a giant ear if you hadn’t have said something,” the girl in pink said, pointing to her faded, cloudy eyes. She raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Might’ve just ruined your chances of winning, though.”

Anole returned the look. “Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.”

The one in the long, purple dress chuckled. “I certainly wouldn’t, either. We’re practically guaranteed to win, regardless of what Sakiz thinks she’s dueling against.”

The smaller screens popped up around the stage and began to spin, and the two teams turned to watch them slow to a stop.

“What do we got?” Sakiz asked.

“They’ve got the Volcano Fields,” the girl with feathers poking out of her scalp answered. “We’ve got… Shit.”

“What?”

“The pirate ship,” the one in purple said. “In a pool.”

As the floor began to recede, the girl with feathers looked down at her metal arm and leg. “Shit,” she repeated.

The girl in all black turned to glare at AMBR, but kept her face towards her teammate. “Don’t worry, Myrtille,” she said, “we’ll keep you out of the water.”

As soon as the stages were set in place, the two teams jumped into their battle stances.

“What’s the plan, Anole?” Bora asked.

“Operation Four Square,” he answered. “Let’s knock these girls out as quick as we can.”

“In three… two… one…”

Myrtille looked to their leader. “Sakiz?”

“BEGIN!”

“Mauve, Ash, go!”

The girl in black shoved her chain into the hands of the girl in purple, who wrapped it around an arrow and fired it into the birds’ nest at the top of the mast. Ash spun her arm around Mauve’s waist and lifted her into the air just as the chain sent them flying after it.

“Don’t let them get the high ground!” Anole shouted.

Bora and Marjani sprinted towards the ship, each going in a wide arc on opposite sides of the remaining members of Team SAMM. Sakiz and Myrtille drew their weapons—a pair of machetes and an ice saw, respectively –and charged towards the boys.

Riad lifted his mace. “Plan?”

“Keep Myrtille out of the water and Sakiz out of the lava,” Anole ordered.

“That’s it?!”

Myrtille threw her saw down between them, and the two leapt apart.

“Do you have a better idea?!” Anole shot back.

Riad opened his mouth to respond, but Sakiz swung her machetes at Anole, drawing his attention away to dodge. Myrtille shot towards him just a second later, and Riad had to throw up his mace to block.

In the stands, Roman punched the air. “That’s right, don’t you touch my boyfriend!”

“Roman, this fight couldn’t continue if there was no contact,” Logan pointed out.

Calanthe let out a yell and began to repeatedly smack Lloyd’s arm, grinning as she pointed towards the ship. “Look! Look! They’re about to do that—that bounce-board thing they do!”

“Bounce-board thing?” Virtus repeated.

As Bora and Marjani made it to the bottom of the mast, Bora held out her scythe, and Marjani hopped onto the blade; she swung as hard as she could at an angle, and Marjani leapt off at the peak, sending her flying to about the height as the bird’s nest. As she began to descend again, she drew her swords and wedged one in between the planks.

Marjani glanced up just in time to see Mauve aiming an arrow directly at her face; she gasped and flung herself under the post, digging her other blade into the wood of the mast. The arrow slammed into the sand, just barely missing Bora as she sprinted her way up the mast. As soon as she was close enough, the girls latched hands, and Marjani pulled Bora up to stand next to her.

“What do you think, should we pull a ‘Bi-Bi’ on them?” she asked.

“You read my mind,” Bora replied.

She swung to the other side of the mast and threw her scythe up to the edge of the bird’s nest while Marjani jumped back and stuck both of her blades back between the boards. The two launched themselves into the air…

…Only to find Ash and Mauve standing back to back with their weapons already pointed towards them.

Mauve fired a black arrow, to which Marjani spun and sliced in half as Mauve hopped onto the edge and flipped backwards; she twisted to shove Marjani’s head into her bow and held it tight against her neck.

At the same time, Ash flung her chain to wrap around Bora, the sudden pinning of her arms causing her to drop her scythe. She yanked, and Bora went flying around the other side of the mast, slamming into Marjani just as Mauve leapt off of her, kicking her forward in the process. The chain continued its momentum, and within just a few seconds, the girls were wrapped tight around the mast.

“This is homophobic,” Marjani grunted.

Anole dove backwards and rolled as one of Sakiz’s blades swooped by, just barely tweaking the tip of his nose. As he slid to his feet and ground to a stop, he felt one of his shoes crunch at the very edge of the lava field. He shot it a glance and cursed, moving to raise his bow to push Sakiz back, but she slammed both of her machetes down and pushed him further onto the rock.

She gave him one final shove before spinning and raising her weapons; Anole took this chance to snap his bow apart, and he flung one half around her wrist just before she could strike.

He whipped her around, realizing a second too late that they’d been standing mere feet away from a bubbling lava pit. Holding back a yelp, he fired a shot of Gravity Dust and yanked her back just as her foot scraped against the drop. She slammed into his chest with a high-pitched yelp, and he held her tight. A plume of lava shot into the air.

“Watch yourself!” he exclaimed.

Sakiz slammed the top of her head into his chin; as he stumbled back, she slammed a punch into his stomach, and a knee into his face.

“Don’t make those jokes,” she growled.

Guilt and heat shot up his spine, and he waved his hands.

“I—N-No, that—That wasn’t what I meant!”

Letting out a yell, she whirled around and kicked him in the head, knocking him to the ground.

Metal clinked and clanked as Myrtille and Riad parried, inching their way back and forth into each other’s space with each hit. They glared and kept their eyes close on the other’s, neither daring to look away. The strain and the autumn heat mixed into sweat dripping down their foreheads; a drop fell into Riad’s eye, but he forced himself to ignore the intense stinging.

Myrtille suddenly reached way back and spun her ice saw before gripping it tight with two hands and stabbing it towards Riad. He twisted just out of reach; while she readied another attack, he pressed a button on his mace and slammed it into the ground. She jumped just in time to avoid the sheet of ice spreading, but slipped as soon as she landed, hitting the ground with an Oomph!

Riad took a second to glance up at the scoreboard, and then over towards the bird’s nest; eyes widening, he whirled around towards their leader.

“Anole, the girls!”

He snapped his head up to follow his teammate’s gaze, letting out a curse as soon as he spotted them. Sakiz let out a yell as she slammed her machetes down; he rolled out of the way just as they made contact with the floor. Anole used the momentum to slide to his feet and sprinted forward, tackling her just long enough to wrap his bow string around her waist. Firing another Gravity Dust bullet, he leapt into the air, dragging her with him, and twisted.

As soon as he unwrapped his weapon, he put his feet on her stomach and kicked her, sending her into the Volcano Field and him towards the water. He watched close to make sure she landed safely—if roughly —on one of the rocky hills.

“Don’t move!” he yelled, before he sunk into the water.

Riad threw his hands out, glancing back at Sakiz before shooting a glare towards where Anole had disappeared. “Bro!”

His legs were suddenly swept out from underneath him, and he and Myrtille slid across the field, him struggling to get his calves out of her grip while she kept pushing them towards the edge of the ice. He dug the spikes of his mace down to try to slow them, using a bit of Fire Dust to help the cause, but she punched it away with her metal arm. The force ripped the handle from him, and he watched with an outstretched hand as it slid out of reach.

They finally made it to tile; the rough tiles burned Riad’s bare arms as they skidded across. He moved to kick Myrtille away, but she held him firm stood, pressing a foot onto his chest.

“Ha! Gotcha!” she exclaimed.

Movement caught his eye; he looked over to watch Sakiz as she carefully felt her way around and tried to find a way down.

“Don’t move,” she mockingly said under her breath, using her foot to search for a good place to put it. “How about you don’t tell me what to—”

A shriek slipped out of her throat as a rock crumbled; she slid down a steep edge, digging her fingers into the ground as her legs and torso began to dangle in mid-air, right over a bubbling pool of lava.

Riad let out a yelp of his own and snapped his head to look at Myrtille. “Dude, your leader—!”

“What, do you think I’m an idiot?!” she snapped. “I might be a starling, but that doesn’t make me a birdbrain! You can’t trick me into looking away as I’m going for the kill!”

Sakiz tried to pull herself up, only to lose her grip and fall another few inches. A pebble dropped and bounced off of her foot at just the right angle, landing on a loose boulder that was just out of her reach.

Myrtille lifted her ice saw like a golf club; Riad refused to look, forcing himself to try to remember anything and everything from those seemingly pointless math classes they’d all been forced to take.

Roman jumped to his feet. “Riad, get out of there!”

With a deep breath, Riad summoned as much aura into his fist as he possibly could and slammed it against the floor.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #rwby #rwby au #prvl #alex writes

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destiel-love-forever · 4 years

Text

Day 1: First Date

Combined two prompts from two anons for day one on 14 Days of Destiel Valentine’s!! - "For the Valentines' prompts... First date?" && " This high class restaurant I’ve always wanted to eat at is doing a Valentines day dinner special that’s like half the price of a normal meal there and my ass is broke so will you pretend to be my date and come out to eat with me?"

Read Below or on AO3: HERE

“So,” Dean begins as he leans on the checkout counter to look at Castiel. “Any Valentine’s Day plans this weekend?”

As usual when his most frequent customer talks to him, Castiel ducks his head to hide his blush and tries his best not to sound flustered. “Ummm, no. Nothing special planned.”

“Any regular plans?”

“Nope.” Castiel laughs awkwardly, his hands shaking as he rings up Dean’s coffee and donut. It’s the same every night. 3 a.m., Dean in his police uniform, wrapping up another patrol shift, stopping at the gas station by his house – the one Castiel happens to work at – buying coffee and donuts. Castiel teases him relentlessly about the whole ‘cop with a coffee and donut’ cliché. It never fails to make Dean smile.

Castiel really likes making Dean smile.

It’s been two years of Castiel working this shift and Dean working his, the two of them seeing each other at least three or four times a week. At first it was Castiel fumbling and stuttering as he tried to ring up the officer with the gorgeous smile and witty remarks, but thankfully Dean’s insistence on small talk has loosened Castiel up.

A bit.

As loose as you can be when you’re head over heels in love with a man ten times out of your league that likes to flirt with anyone that moves.

“Do you have any plans?” Castiel asks politely as he waits for Dean to fish out his money.

“I don’t.” Dean leans further over the counter and Castiel finally looks up at him. He realizes that Dean isn’t trying to get his money. In fact, he doesn’t seem at all concerned about his coffee and donut at the moment. His eyes are locked on Castiel. “You don’t work?”

“Surprisingly I do not.”

“Great. Neither do I.” Dean grins. “Listen, this is gonna sound crazy but I promise I’m not trying to be a creep and come onto you, okay?”

Castiel laughs nervously, his heart in his throat. “O-okay.”

“This high class restaurant I’ve always wanted to eat at is doing a Valentine’s Day dinner special that’s like half the price of a normal meal there and my ass is broke so will you pretend to be my date and come out to eat with me?” It all comes out in a rush and for the first time, Dean is the one blushing instead of Castiel.

Well, that’s not entirely accurate. Castiel is still blushing, but Dean is at least joining him now.

“H-how expensive are we talking?” Castiel asks, doing a mental calculation of his current bank account balance.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll cover your half. I just can’t go alone. They’re only letting couples go.” Dean beams at him as if Castiel already agreed. “So, will you come with me?”

Castiel doesn’t even have to consider it.

“Yes.”

----

Dean has never seen Castiel outside of his gas station attendant uniform. Don't get Dean wrong, the little blue vest and name tag are adorable, but Castiel cleans up well. He's gorgeous, standing outside the restaurant in dark jeans and a button up with the top two buttons undone. The blue of his shirt makes the blue of his eyes pop even though it's dark outside.

He's breathtaking.

Dean has officially been launched from yeah that college kid is cute and I have a major crush on him to fuck, I might be in love with him...

"Hey," Castiel says softly, looking slightly uncomfortable. Dean can't exactly blame him. He's been staring at the kid like an idiot.

Dean clears his throat and pastes on a smile. "Hey. You look great."

"Thanks. You too." Castiel tugs at his collar. "I, um… I don't own a tie. Do you think this'll be okay?"

"It'll be perfect. You ready?"

When Castiel nods, Dean takes his hand and starts to lead him into the restaurant. He's only holding Castiel's hand because of the whole couple ruse, of course.

At least, that’s his excuse if Castiel questions it.

The host seats them at a small table in the back corner of the restaurant. The scene screams romance. From the twinkle lights strung along the ceiling and the live piano music to the rose petal covered table and the bouquet of flowers in a vase as the centerpiece. Once they've taken their seats and have been handed the special Valentine’s Day menu, the host leaves.

Castiel's first words are, "This place is gorgeous."

Dean swallows the flirty, "You're gorgeous," and just agrees with Castiel instead.

"So why this place?” Castiel asks. “I mean, yeah it's nice and the food is probably amazing, but why'd you want to come here so bad?"

"It's new. Small town like ours, you don't get that much. Especially like this. All we end up with are crappy diners or chain restaurants, but this chef used to work at a 4-star restaurant which is amazing. I've been wanting to eat here since it opened last summer."

Castiel leans forward and it's clear he's not faking interest. The fact makes Dean's stomach flip. "You must really like food then, hey?"

"Absolutely. It was actually my dream to be a chef, but it doesn't pay the bills, at least not starting out."

"I get that. I can barely afford to live and go to school full-time, even with my financial aid. Hence the shitty gas station job."

Dean straightens in concern. "You're going to school full-time? I figured you were only half or online or something."

"Nope. I go to school during the day. It's not so bad this semester, actually. Last semester I had a practicum, so I had to do all my coursework for my classes but then on top of that do 15 hours in a classroom every week. It was brutal." Castiel laughs to himself. "I survived on coffee and hatred.'

"Coulda fooled me. You're always so happy."

"You're the bright spot in it all." Castiel's smile falls. Panic makes his breath hitch in his chest, the shudder visible from where Dean is sitting. "I-"

"So, you're an education major then?" Dean asks, saving Castiel from the embarrassment. Or maybe just saving himself from sharing his own embarrassing confession that Castiel is his bright spot too.

Castiel bounces back quickly, relief relaxing his shoulders and allowing his smile to return. "Yeah, elementary ed. I'd love to work with 2nd grade but anything under 4th will be fine. Once kids hit 4th grade they turn into little assholes."

This catches Dean by surprise, pulling a laugh from him. Castiel was always so shy and soft spoken at the gas station. Now that he's opening up, his personality is really getting a chance to shine.

Dean is on a very slippery slope here.

It only gets slipperier when Castiel says with enthusiasm, "You know, you should really try out for one of those shows. Like MasterChef! I'm sure you could get some sort of leave of absence from work. There's no way all of those people just quit their jobs, you know?"

"I've actually thought about that…" Dean darts his eyes away, feeling the same as always when his dreams come up. "Michael told me not to waste the money flying out for the whole interview process or whatever, though. Said I'm housewife good, not actually good."

"Umm, who the fuck is Michael?"

Dean looks back at Castiel before answering. He startles when he sees the rage on the young man's face. "My ex."

"Well fuck him. Seriously? It's not up to him. It's up to Gordon Ramsay - or whoever else tests your food. I don't know how the process works exactly but it's not up to him. And he sounds like an asshole anyway. If it's your dream then you need to do it, Dean! Isn't the chance worth it?" Castiel shakes his head in amazement before laughing once under his breath. "And I bet you're really fucking good, too. He sounds like an asshole that didn't deserve you. You should go on that show and kick some ass and then do a little shout out video with a huge I told you so."

Dean needs to blink a few times as he tries to process the mini-rant Castiel just spewed at him. As the words sink in, his lips spread into a wide smile that borders on painful. "You've never even tasted my food. How the hell are you so passionate about this?"

"Because I care about you." Castiel's eyes soften for half a second, something deeper passing between them. Then they light back up with humor. "And if I can't make an informed decision without eating your food, I guess you'll just have to cook for me some time."

"Yes. I suppose I will. But then you'll owe me a meal."

"Oooh, no. No, no, no. Trust me. You don't want that."

Dean chuckles. "Can't cook?"

"I held my own for a while. I made a mean hot pocket. And toast. I'm like an expert at getting the toast just the right amount of crunchy where it's not too soft and it's not burnt either." He makes a chef’s kiss with his fingers, the sound loud in the air between them. "Then, sadly, my toaster became out of commission. So, it's mostly just cereal and pb&js for me. Unless my microwave decides to work, which is extremely rare."

"What happened to your toaster?"

Castiel looks up at him with both amusement and shame. "I may have gotten a piece of frozen waffle stuck in there and I can't figure out how to get it out, so every time I start to cook something it sets on fire…"

"On fire?" Dean's eyebrows shoot up as he laughs. "Jesus. Yeah, okay. I'll be the one cooking then."

"Perfect." Castiel picks up his menu and waves it. "We should probably actually figure out what we're going to order hey?"

Dean's immediate instinct is to say no. To ask Castiel if they can just spend the night talking. Who cares about the food?

It's a terrifying thought.

It's also exhilarating.

"I can get a bottle of wine for us to share," Dean offers. "Would you like red or white?"

The blush that warms Castiel's face is so familiar, setting Dean at ease. "I'm actually not of age. Only 20."

"Oh." Dean puts the wine menu down and laughs. "Well, then. Never mind."

"You can get some though! It won't bother me."

"I actually hate wine to be honest. Much more of a beer guy."

"Yeah, I can handle maybe two wine coolers before I'm a mess anyway. Total lightweight." Castiel's chin snaps up and his eyes bulge. "Shit! I mean - not that I'd ever drink, because like that's illegal - and I'd - well-"

Dean bursts out laughing. "Calm down, Cas. You think I never drank underage? Long as I'm not in uniform we don't have a problem."

"Okay. Good." Castiel takes a drink of his water, his hand shaking. It nearly spills when he tries to put the glass back down. "If it makes you feel any better, that's pretty much the sum of all illegal activity in my life. Unless you're counting the time I stole a chap stick because all my friends were stealing stuff, but since I felt so guilty about it that I went back 2 hours later and put it on the shelf again without ever opening it, I don't think it counts. So, I'm officially arrest free, officer."

Dean laughs. "Why does it not surprise me that you would do something like that?"

"Nerdy… I know."

"I was going to say adorable." Castiel flushes at his words, ducking his head. It's so goddamn endearing that Dean finds himself admitting something for the first time since it happened. "I was arrested once. When I was 15."

"Really?"

"Yup. Sent to a boy’s home and everything."

Castiel looks confused. Dean expects him to ask how he could be a cop then, in which Dean would explain the whole juvenile records being sealed thing. Instead, he surprises Dean by asking, "What did you do?"

"I stole some bread and peanut butter. Or, well, I tried to." Dean shrugs like it's no big deal.

Castiel doesn't brush it off so easily. He reaches a hand out and places it on top of Dean's where it rests beside his water glass. Dean stares at their hands pressed together as Castiel says softly, "You must have been really hungry. I'm sorry."

"It's uh... it's-," Dean needs to stop and clear his throat, suddenly overwhelmed.

"It's okay." Castiel squeezes his hand gently. Like a reassurance. Like a promise that he's there. Still there. Not going anywhere. "Is that why you love food so much? Because it was such a luxury growing up?"

Tears threaten Dean's eyes. Castiel isn't pitying Dean or looking down on him. There's no judgement.

Castiel understands.

"Yes," Dean whispers in relief. "Yes."

Before they can discuss things further, the waitress comes to take their order. Since neither of them have really managed to look at the menu, they’re both caught a bit in the headlights. Thankfully their choices are limited on the special menu for the night, making it easier to rush through picking things out. They stumble through an agreement on pan seared scallops for an appetizer before Dean orders a medium rare filet mignon with a side of three cheese risotto and Castiel requests the same.

Dean worries that things will be awkward now that the conversation was halted but it’s not. The moment the waitress is gone to place their orders, it picks right back up.

“Hmmm.” Castiel glances around the restaurant, the wheels in his mind clearly turning. “On a scale of one to our asses getting kicked out, what do you think the rules are in me taking out my phone at a fancy place like this?”

“They’ll probably just think our date’s going bad and feel bad for us.”

The little scoffing sound Castiel makes is endearing as he pulls out his phone.

Castiel starts scrolling through his phone as Dean is left to just stare at him. He laughs awkwardly after a minute. “Ummm, are we having a bad date?”

“What?” Castiel looks up at him in confusion before shaking his head adamantly. “Absolutely not. This date is the best I’ve ever had. Which is kind of pathetic… since, you know, it’s not real or whatever.”

“Feels real,” Dean admits.

Castiel blushes. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Unsure of what he should say, Dean redirects the conversation. “Well, if it’s not that, then what the hell are you doing on your phone?”

Instead of directly answering, Castiel says, “MasterChef auditions for the next seasons starts in October. Locations are L.A, Boston, Atlanta, Houston, New York City, and Chicago.”

Dean’s heart skips. “You’re looking into MasterChef auditions?”

“Yes.” Castiel looks up from his phone. “Didn’t you mention a while ago that your brother goes to Stanford? You mentioned you were going to visit him - I swear I’m not a creep, you mentioned it when-”

“It’s fine, Cas. Yes, he goes to Stanford.”

“Well then, there you go. L.A. in October and you can stop by and visit your brother while you’re at it.” Castiel beams at him. “That gives us nine months of preparation.”

Us.

“O-okay.”

“Okay. It’s a plan.”

A plan.

Dean decides to go out on a limb, wanting to check to see if Castiel means what he thinks he means. “So, you’re going to help me?”

“Help you? Psssh.” Castiel puts his phone away and winks. “I’m going to be your official taste tester.”

“Oh, you think so?”

“Yup.”

“And what exactly do I get out of this situation?”

“Other than my excellent taste testing skills?” Castiel’s smile freezes before dropping a notch or two. "My company?"

The way he says it, like he's suddenly very unsure of himself, breaks Dean's heart.

He reaches over for Castiel's hand now that it's free again, pulling it towards him so their intertwined hands can rest in the center of the table. "I'd say that's more than enough."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." Dean takes a deep breath to steady himself. "And Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering if maybe you'd-" Dean pauses, looking away from that gorgeous face and bright blue eyes in case he's rejected. "I was wondering if maybe you'd consider going on a real date with me sometime? Like… ya know.. for real."

The pause that follows is so long that Dean is sure Castiel is going to say no but when he takes a chance and looks at Castiel again, Castiel is grinning. He nods enthusiastically as their eyes meet. "I'd love that. Can we count this as our first date though? Because I am terrible when it comes to first dates and this is already going so well."

Dean laughs in relief. "Sure.”

“Perfect.” Castiel pauses, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re not just dating me for the discount on coffee and donuts, are you?”

The question is clearly teasing but there’s the slightest undertone of panic beneath it, as if Castiel can’t understand why Dean would genuinely like him.

That will be something Dean fixes. He doesn’t care how long it takes.

“No, Cas. I don’t give a shit about the coffee and donuts.” He leans forward and looks Castiel directly in the eyes. “Considering it’s 3 a.m., do you really think I’m coming to the station for coffee and donuts anymore? I usually eat half the donut, wash it down with a sip of the coffee – which is decaf, in case you were wondering – and then crash into bed thinking about the cute boy at the gas station.”

Castiel seems to puff up. “Really?”

“Really.”

“All this time?”

“Mhhm.” Dean’s smile fades as he turns serious. “The first time I came to the station was after a homicide. A man killed his wife. I’d been to their house twice before because of neighbors calling in the domestic abuse but the woman… no matter what we tried, she never pressed charges against him. Always took him back. Walking into that house that night and seeing her – shit, seeing her on the floor like that. It… wrecked me. I couldn’t get myself to go home after that. Just kept driving around. When I saw the station, I decided to stop on a whim. But then there you were, humming along to the song on the overhead radio as you arranged the candy display, and I was hooked.”

With a shake of his head, Castiel mutters, “That’s not true. That – you’re not serious.”

“It was a Tuesday. Winter. One of those nights where the air is crisp but warm so every inhale is relieved, not pained. I had to go to the station to change out of my uniform and into civilian clothes because I had blood on my shirt and it became part of evidence. I was in jeans and a ratty old flannel. It was the worst night of my career to this day, and one of the worst nights of my life.” Dean closes his eyes, letting his smile grow as he pictures the scene before him. “It was a Taylor Swift song and you were into it. Like, humming under your breath, shaking your ass, bobbing your head, into it. You had no idea I was even there. It was so… happy. You were just radiating this joy even thought it was the middle of the night and I doubted you were enjoying the fact that you were awake and working at a gas station. There was just something so freeing about you. I only used the bathroom because you were distracted and I didn’t want to pull you out of it, but the next night I came back in my uniform right when my shift ended and bought my first ever coffee and donut from you. And you-”

“Laughed and said, ‘a cop buying coffee and a donut?’ Is it your life mission to become a cliché?’” Castiel finishes, his voice taking on the same tone as it did two years ago. He smiles at Dean in wonder. “I was very proud of myself for that, by the way. I was so flustered because you were gorgeous, and I just knew I was going to say something stupid. When that came out instead, I was stoked.”

“Don’t worry, I figured out pretty quick it was a fluke.”

Castiel’s jaw drops. “Hey, now!”

“I’m just speaking the truth! You’re a god damn mess. Always dropping shit and stuttering and blushing.” Dean takes Castiel’s hand in his and smiles fondly. “It’s okay, though. I love that.”

After staring at Dean for a few seconds, Castiel shakes his head. “I can’t believe it. All this time…”

“Yeah, Cas.” Dean pushes forward, leaning across the table so his lips ghost against Castiel’s. “All this time.”

#14 days of destiel valentines #valentines day #destiel #fluff #cute #first date #prompt fill #better late than never #day 1 #cop dean #gas station worker cas #mutual pining

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watanabes-cum-dump · 4 years

Text

Meant for you chapter 7) Welcome to Reim

”Cheif Rametoto, I the warrior Hinahoho am grateful for your presence” Hinahoho said.

Hina, Sinbad, Amaris and a woman who’s name was apparently Rurumu, knelt in front of an old weathered man, Rametoto, cheif of Imcakk. Hina stood, “We are here to ask for your permission, will you allow us, Hinahoho and Rurumu to get married? And leave the Imchakk clan?”

’Hina, choose your words more carefully’ Amaris thought. ‘You do not talk to a girl’s dad like that’

“Answer this question, warrior Hinahoho, what are you able to provide for my daughter? Wealth? Power? Status? My daughter has been cultured to be a warrior, she’s wanted nothing else her entire life. She has everything you can think of. So, I ask again; what can you provide to a person like her?”

“At the moment, I am unable to provide her with anything” Hina replied. ‘Bad answer’ Amaris though with a wince.

“Bastard! Who in their right mind would dare to insult the great cheif of Imchakk!? I’ll mangle you!”

The cheif yelled, jumping down and swinging his staff just above Hinahoho’s shoulder. Amaris was surprised he didn’t even flinch, ‘Hina, you now have my respect’ Amaris thought, trembling from the sudden commotion.

”I am unable to provide anything for her in my current state” Hina said calmly. “That being said, we can work together to make our dreams come true” he said, turning to face Sinbad.

“That is my master’s dream”

’Again, WHAT ABOUT ME!?’ Amaris mentally yelled.

Timeskip...

They were off, with an agreement with Imchakk. They would sell things from Imchakk, and make a name for themselves as great merchants. But, there was a downside to this...

”A dress!? You’ve got to be kidding me!” Amaris yelled as Rurumu held a white dress in front of her. Rurumu frowned slightly “You are a lady, you should dress and act like one”

The white haired girl ran behind Sinbad “Sin-kun, protect me!” Amaris yelped, hiding behind Sinbad.

“I don’t see a problem with this. You would look good in that. Plus, she’s right. We’re not street kids anymore”

Sinbad was dressed in fine clothes, having changed out of the ones the Imchakk gave him. He looked good, more clean, but Amaris wasn’t digging her outfit options. Sinbad sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win if she decided to argue, he pushed her further into the room and shut the door behind him “Have fun!”

Amaris trembled as Rurumu cast her shadow over her. “Ummm...”

Timeskip...

“It’s truly a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ja’far, and I’m what you would call a merchant. We’d be honoured if you could stock our products in your lovely store- What the hell am I saying!” Ja’far fumed. Amaris sighed beside him, “Don’t worry. Sometimes I wonder why I’m here too” she muttered. She was dressed in a simple but beautiful white dress held together by a rope, her hair was free of it’s ponytail and hanging by her shoulders, a gold circlet set off her white hair “I’ve had enough of this you old hag!” The boy yelled, slamming his fists in the table.

Rurumu’s eye twitched “Old hag?”

Amaris and Sinbad jumped as Rurumu karate chopped the poor kid’s face.

“How many times to I need to tell you; when addressing a mature lady, you address them and ‘miss’ or ‘madam’. We are now a part of Sinbad’s merchant crew, we have to act the part. The way we carry ourselves is the key to building strong and true trade relationships” the Imchakk women scolded.

A few minutes later....

”HOW DO YOU EXPECT TO AMOUNT TO ANYTHING IF YOU CAN’T EVEN READ!? YOU MUST ALSO LEARN CULTURE, GEOGRAPHY, AND OF COURSE MATHEMATICS!” Rurumu scolded. ‘I should have paid attention to my teacher’ Amaris thought, regretting not listening paying attention to her classes in the other world. But there was more hell to come.

“Ja’far! Correct you’re posture!”

”Stay standing!”

Soon enough, the three kids were on the ground exhausted. They saw Hina, Vittel, and Maho standing over them. “Hey how are you guys? Hanging in there?” Hina teased. “C’mon! You’ve got this!” Vittel encouraged. Amaris groaned while Ja’far grumbled about his headache.

“Lunch time everyone!” Rurumu called.

“I should have stayed in Parthevia...” Amaris groaned as Sin pulled her up. He patted her back with an apologetic smile. “Remember your manners now!” Rurumu said. Amaris saw the boys cringing, but she was used to this crap and just dug in. ‘Man this is good’ Amaris thought, taking a bite of the well cooked meat.

An hour later, they were back to studying. It was just grammar and speech, Amaris was pretty good at it. Having spent most of her life in a world where everyone had the right to an education, she was a few leagues above the boys. “Hmm, Amaris dear, you sound like you know these things rather well” Rurumu said, checking her work.

“Well, it’s not that hard really” she replied.

“Indeed, for a noble, at least” Rurumu said, eying her almost suspiciously.

“Yeah!” Sinbad piped up “I’ve always wondered why you’ve always been so smart, being able to write and read like that. But maybe you were a noble before we found you”

”Found her?” Rurumu repeated “I thought you two grew up in the slums together” Amaris sweat dropped nervously but Sin came to her rescue.

“When we were eleven, we found Amaris passed out a little ways past the village. She had amnesia so we took her in” Sin explained.

“Oh, well, I’m glad you’re starting to remember” Rurumu said, patting her head with her large hand. “And since you’re one step ahead of all my lessons, I won’t need to teach you anymore”

“WHAT!?” Sinbad and Ja’far yelled. “Thank you!” Amaris exclaimed before heading off to tell Hina so he could assign her something to do. “No fair” Ja’far whined.

Many nights passed and Amaris got to know everyone else better. She learned that Vittel was incredibly funny and that Maho was amazingly good at handling delicate things. And that Ja’far and her got sunburnt easily. Yep. (Haha I can’t relate since I have dark skip ;P)

It was one faithful day when she saw the docks of Reim up ahead, Sinbad had climbed up onto the mast for a better view, she would have joined him but she couldn’t do shit in a dress.

“All right, let’s get to business! There’s no time to waste so let’s go!”

“Come one come all! Get you’re exclusive imported goods from Imchakk” Sinbad and Ja’far advertised while Amaris just hung back. A crowd of people gathered around to look at the goods. Most of the women over Sinbad, and most young men over Amaris. “Eh” Amaris sweat dropped nervously at her new admirers.

”What a beautiful girl”

“Such fair skin” (I’ve been watching way too much Saiki k...)

Over the crowd, Amaris could see Vittel with an amused look. “Help me!” She whisper yelled. Vittel shook his head and waved at her as he dealt with some customers. But, her saviours were the guards. “Break it up, break it up!” startled, the citizens cleared out.

“You don’t have permission to set up shop here young man” one of the guards said.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir” Sinbad replied “We’ll begin the appropriate procedure right away. Where do I go?”

“You mean you don’t know anything about trading in Reim?” The first one said, the other sighed. “All universal transactions must go through the Reim union, which controls everything. Only the companies approved by the union are permitted to sell” the other one explained.

“If there aren’t anymore questions then you can leave. That goes for all of you, move it!” The guard said. The people muttered as they walked away. A man in a blue cloak walked up and asked for the proprietor, Sinbad Of course answered him while Amaris helped clean up. “Yo Amaris! Box up everything we have! We have a deal!” Vittel yelled.

“What!?”

A sac of silver coins clinked onto the ground “Please accept this. I hope to do business with you again” the mysterious man said, and with that, he boarded his carriage and left. But that night, they were in for a surprise.

“What’s going on here? These are our products”

“And look at the price! They’re five-no-times higher!”

“We were duped!”

“That jerk took advantage of us” Hina growled.

“He must make his money by buying and reselling goods” Sinbad said. “That being said, he plays it safe and targets non union merchants like us”

”I see” Rurumu said sadly when they met up and told her what happened.

“How much did we loose Sinbad?” Hina asked. (I’m too lazy to write Hinahoho ok?)

“I don’t know” was the purple head’s reply. Amaris sighed, “So much for our effort”

“Bottom line is we need to join the union in order to conduct business in Reim. There’s no point in arguing about the resale” Ja’far and Vittel looked down. “I agree. I underestimated the trading business” Vittel said. “We all did” Rurumu sighed “But this is the reality of our business”

“When it comes to trade, we’re total amateurs” Hina said.

“What are you saying!? Isn’t that the fun of being in this business!?” Everyone looked at Sinbad, shocked.

“But that guy made us look like idiots!” Ja’far protested.

“Look at the big picture! That’s why it’s fun”

“Huh?”

“I respect merchants. Is you ask me I think they’re the shrewdest people to ever live! The world is run by money, and merchants move money. They have a huge roll in this world. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration if I said that merchants move the world! Just think of it guys! We get to compete with people of that caliber! It’s nothing short of mind blowing!”

Amaris felt the Rukh buzz in excitement, she didn’t know how but, it was a feeling. “I cannot believe you’re talking me into this again” Hina scoffed. “Our leader has spoken, and it is our duty to follow him!”

“Sinbad, are you sure about this?” Rurumu, Hina, Ja’far, Vittel, Maho, and Amaris were in their boat. “Yeah. Head back to Imchakk as fast as you can and come back with new goods. Hopefully when you return I’ve settled things with the union”

“Got it. We’re counting on you Sin” and they sailed off, leaving Sinbad on the docs. When they were about fifty yards away from the docs, Vittel grasped Amaris’ shoulders “Ok, spill it. Do you have a crush on Sinbad?”

“WH-WHAT!?”

#magi #magi the labyrinth of magic #magi the kingdom of magic #magi adventures of sinbad #magi aos #aos #sinbad #magi sinbad #sinbad magi #sinbad x reader #sinbad x oc

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pbwsports · 4 years

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Driveways, canyons, pools: NFL players create clever workouts

A farm. A field. A canyon. A pool. Even a driveway. As NFL players wait for a return to normalcy before the 2020 regular season begins, they have had to get creative with how and where they train.

The ripple effects of these unprecedented times -- nationwide social distancing during the coronavirus pandemic and an unknown timetable for a vaccine --have altered the professional sports landscape, and the NFL is no exception.

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell authorized the reopening of all team facilities this week, in accordance with state and local regulations, although coaches and players who are not undergoing rehabilitation are prohibited from entering team buildings. While a handful of clubs took advantage of this allowance, states such as New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Virginia, Michigan, Illinois, Washington and California are still imposing heavier restrictions that affect a dozen team facilities.

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These inconsistent regulations have also changed the responsibilities of NFL strength trainers, who have spent time remotely assessing the workout needs of players, including their access to resources, as well as acting as liaisons for online equipment purchases. NFL teams were permitted to provide each player with up to $1,500 worth of workout equipment. Nevertheless, players have had to find inventive ways to stay in shape.

Minnesota Vikings quarterback Kirk Cousins uses his parents' driveway as his outdoor gym. New York Giants wide receiver Golden Tate mowed a track into a steep canyon near his home. Pittsburgh Steelers wide receiver James Washington designed a training regimen on his Texas farm. New Orleans Saintslinebacker Demario Davis has his personal trainers living with him. Giants linebacker Blake Martinez became the beneficiary of a state-of-the-art gym. And Cleveland Browns punter Jamie Gillan grabbed some beers and built a "grubby" garage gym.

Even though players' locations, living situations and resources differ, there's a lesson shared by all: There are no excuses.

Big-money quarterback staying with parents

The playful jab is uttered without warning, hurled from the driver's side of a passing vehicle.

"Go Pack, go!"

And in that moment of lighthearted jest, Kirk Cousins can only ignore it. He knows the stop sign in front of the house makes him a sitting duck every morning.

Four times a week, starting promptly at 9 a.m., the Vikings quarterback gathers equipment from the garage and arranges it neatly on the long, curved pavement leading from his parents' house to the sidewalk. Resting on a wooden chair is his laptop, connected by videoconference to his longtime personal trainer, Chad Cook, who is 450 miles away in Atlanta. This is a glimpse into what constitutes the 2020 NFL offseason.

2020 NFL offseason

"I like my privacy, so being out in the driveway, on display for the whole neighborhood to see is probably less than ideal. But desperate times call for desperate measures," Cousins said with a smile during a recent ESPN interview. "If it means a guy drives by in a truck and yells, 'Go Pack, go!' at me while we're working out, then so be it."

The manicured lawns of this Orlando, Florida, suburb serve as a backdrop to Cousins' regimen and his attempt at normalcy in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic.

It's not a "home gym" by any means, Cousins concedes, but he insists he has everything he needs: a medicine ball, jump-rope, foam rollers, free weights and a football. And, the most essential tool of all: the laptop he uses to connect with Cook.

"[Every car will] see me doing my shuffles across the driveway, or my cariocas, or doing the jump-rope or different plank exercises, core work, medicine ball, lunges -- whatever it may be. And different people honk or wave, so it's kind of fun," said Cousins, who signed a two-year, $66 million extension with the Vikings in March.

Spotty Wi-Fi is a challenge when working out outdoors, but sheltering in place with his parents was by design: The nine-year veteran and his wife, Julie, now have plenty of reinforcements when it comes to taking care of their sons, Cooper, 2½, and Turner, 1.

"I kind of laugh when I talk about having two like I have 10," Cousins joked, "because compared to other guys in the league who have three, four, five, six kids, having two is not a big deal."

Dealing with this adversity has reaffirmed his commitment to his craft. It also taught him that the Public Broadcasting Service can be a football player's, as well as a father's, best friend: "'Daniel Tiger['s Neighborhood]' on PBS can be a lifesaver."

'Strict training mode' means living with trainers

The plan was to be in Nashville, Tennessee, for a month, but Demario Davis' offseason residence has become his permanent dwelling during the pandemic. His 7,500-square-foot house, purchased last offseason, is a saving grace of sorts, equipped with enough room for his wife, Tamela, and their four children under the age of 6.

And his two personal trainers.

Davis' trainers, Jose Tienda and Piankhi Gibson, typically work with him in two-to-three-week "strict training mode" spurts before heading back to their respective homes. They'll return to Nashville soon for another extended stay with Davis.

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As the 31-year-old enters his ninth NFL season -- and the final year of his contract -- he is determined not to lose ground to a youngster who might be aiming for his spot.

Mid-morning acupuncture and soft tissue work with Tienda give way to afternoon aqua training in a neighbor's pool with Gibson. Davis pauses for dinner and to help put the kids to bed. But before long, he's headed back for more body work. He crawls into bed around 12:30 or 1 a.m. on those rigorous training days.

With Louisiana still reeling from 35,316 confirmed COVID-19 cases (and 2,485 reported deaths) as of Thursday, Davis wasn't surprised Saints coach Sean Payton -- who was the first known NFL figure to test positive for the coronavirus -- announced there would not be virtual workouts, meetings or workout sessions at the team facility.

"The virtual offseason really wouldn't have fit the flow of how we operate down there," the veteran linebacker said of the Saints, who have one of the oldest rosters in the NFL. "We don't have a young team. ... He knew with our experience level, the strong leaders we have at each position, that we'd get it done as far as training."

While Davis is eager to play, he said he won't waste time guessing when the season will start.

"The pandemic don't know nothing about football season. The virus ain't just like, 'Oh, football season's coming, let me chill out,'" he said with a laugh. "So I'm going to train and stay in shape because that's just a philosophy of mine -- you stay ready at all times. But I think it's a discredit to people who are on the front lines working, and the people who are being affected by it, when we're just thinking about how fast we can get back to sports."

'Grubby little gym' becomes labor of love

The police officers approached without warning.

Jamie Gillan had been punting on a turf field almost an hour away from his Tremont, Ohio, residence, completely unaware of the state's shelter-in-place orders. With nonessential businesses closed, the Browns punter -- nicknamed "The Scottish Hammer" -- had used local fields to practice his kicking drills. That is, until he was no longer allowed.

"[The officers] were like, 'Yeah man, we want to let you punt. We love the Browns and everything, but it's just the rules,'" the Scotland-born special-teamer explained in his thick brogue.

Faced with the prospect of quarantining alone, Gillan chose to go be with family.

He made trips to the liquor store and the supermarket -- packing his truck with several bottles of bourbon for his father, "120 eggs and 16 racks of bacon" -- and then he and his German shepherd named Bear traveled seven hours to southern Maryland to stay with his parents and 19-year-old sister.

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The rural area around his parents' house affords him space to practice his booming kicks, and there's a "massive" field, owned by a friend, which Gillan uses, too. But the self-described "workout junkie" had to get creative with strength training. Soon his parents' garage became his gym.

Unable to buy equipment online because of limited inventory and "skyrocketing" prices, Gillan purchased old equipment from a local high school: barbells, bumper plates, 40-, 80- and 100-pound dumbbells and bands. He purchased rubber matting from a local tractor store.

He searched Facebook Marketplace for a squat rack, but he and his father, Colin, who is a former rugby player and member of the United Kingdom's Royal Air Force, came up with a better solution -- they would construct their own.

"We came back [from Lowe's], cracked open some beers and just started building it," Gillan said with a chuckle. Even with old, rusty weights, his "grubby little gym" was everything he needed.

Gillan said his resourcefulness was forged during four years playing at Arkansas-Pine Bluff, a historically black university. During offseasons when he and his teammates didn't have access to the gym, their surroundings became their workout room. They bench-pressed and squatted logs, they did dips and pullups on metal bars at local parks, and Gillan hopped fences to punt on neighboring fields when access to their football field was prohibited.

"One thing I notice about a lot of historically black colleges is they're very underfunded," Gillan said, stressing that he and other student-athletes had to be creative. "Maybe it got me prepared for this weird period."

State-of-the-art amenities ease the transition

Blake Martinez's father, Marc, had a master plan: purchase a plot of land 15 minutes from the family home in Tucson, Arizona, and build a facility for his son to train and live. It didn't take long for the idea to become Martinez's reality.

The linebacker thanks his father every day for his ingenuity, as well as his construction company.

The 18,000-square-foot facility -- conceptualized and built last year -- "has everything a football player would need," said Martinez, a 2016 fourth-round draft pick by the Green Bay Packers who signed a three-year, $30 million free-agent contract with the Giants in March.

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The warehouse-looking steel structure contains "a miniature version of a college weight room," a full-length basketball court, a 30-by-15-yard turf field and an outdoor sand volleyball court. It also doubles as a residence, with three bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen on the second level for him, his wife, Kristy, and their young daughter.

"It kept getting better and better as it kept getting built," Martinez said. He works out for two hours in person with his longtime trainer, Glenn Howell, four times a week.

But familiarity with his new franchise is a luxury Martinez, 26, doesn't have.

With New York and New Jersey being one of the epicenters of the coronavirus outbreak in the United States, Martinez doesn't know when he'll be able to travel to the facility or even meet members of the Giants organization for the first time.

"It's not like I've been on the team for a while and I know the guys already. So, it's been tough in that aspect, connecting with guys," he said.

Martinez said the pandemic has taught him "I literally have zero excuses not to show up the first day and make sure I'm 100 percent ready to go and help push all of the younger guys to that level if they haven't gotten there yet."

Making use of California canyons

Golden Tate's stunning San Diego views come at a price.

"I've just got to watch out for rattlesnakes," the Giants wide receiver said with a laugh.

When stay-at-home orders were issued in California in mid-March, Tate took advantage of his surroundings -- namely, the canyon his house is built on.

"It's not the best condition to be running in," admitted the 11-year NFL player, who mowed a 7-by-40-yard patch of grass on a steep incline. "But it'll suffice right now. It's better than doing nothing."

Team work makes the dream work! Uncle @tatethagreat & LoLo helping me get my daily catches in. Hope everyone has a great Friday! #FamilyFriday

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Tate, a married father of two small kids, purchased PowerBlock dumbbells and a Jugs machine from which he catches about 100 balls a day. He bikes at home on his Peloton and uses mountain bike trails for his aerobic conditioning. But finding a flat surface for route running has been a challenge. So, too, is self-discipline.

"Over my career, I'm so used to having someone -- an instructor or the guys around me -- push me. And right now, I'm forced to push myself," said Tate, who turns 32 on Aug. 2.

The veteran receiver played through the 2011 NFL lockout, but he said the coronavirus pandemic is unlike anything he has experienced.

"I feel bad for the first-, second-, third- and fourth-round guys who are expected to come in and help the team right away, but they're not having the same opportunity to grow as a player, not getting those reps on the field," he said.

"The offseason is when you have the time to really focus on the fundamentals of the game, the bigger picture and the details of the game. And it looks like right now we're going to show up for camp -- if we show up for camp -- in the middle of the fire of trying to figure out who's going to make the team and trying to get ready for a season. That can be overwhelming."

Strengths trainers turned investigators

With their players scattered across the country, NFL strength and conditioning coaches feel more like part-time sleuths and office managers than in-person trainers.

"We kind of went more into equipment sales and trying to be a liaison to help guys get set up and make sure they're doing the right thing," said Justus Galac, now in his seventh year as the New York Jets' head strength and conditioning coach. "What we found was, guys in the Southern states and more into the Midwest had more access than our guys in the Northeast and West Coast."

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Strength trainers have been tasked with identifying what their players need from a performance standpoint to achieve their fitness goals, regardless of where they live and what resources they have access to. "Even though they might have access to a Steak 'n Shake parking lot or they might be in a third floor of an apartment," said Justin Lovett, the Los Angeles Rams' new head strength and conditioning coach.

Lovett was hired in the midst of California's coronavirus shutdown, but unlike during the 2011 lockout year, when he was on the Denver Broncos' staff, communication is permitted and has proved paramount. But there have been challenges.

"The biggest problem with the rookie class is they don't have the money that some of the older guys do," Galac said. "Not saying millions of dollars, but able to go buy equipment, pay for a trainer to take care of them, buying more food that you may normally not have to buy because the facility provides it. All those little things are adding up for these guys. And the rookies, they have no idea. And it's not their fault."

This time of year is crucial for strength staffs, not only for getting players in shape but also for getting new players up to speed with their programs. "And we've lost that," Galac said.

In fact, the Jets' weight room underwent a face-lift this offseason, complete with a new floor, turf accents and equipment. "And nobody's using it," Galac said. "It's sitting empty. The players haven't even seen it yet."

Finding space and serenity in the countryside

James Washington misses football. And, occasionally, his farm.

The 26-acre property the Steelers wide receiver purchased near his hometown of Abilene, Texas, made it easy for him to comply with social distancing rules. It also afforded him space to work out and keep in shape by way of chores. Washington, who was an agribusiness major with a concentration in farm and ranch management at Oklahoma State, finds the countryside calming. He enjoys the views of passing cars, wheat fields and cattle pastures during his eight- to 12-mile rides on his recently purchased bicycle.

His workout setup, which included an assortment of resistance bands sent by the Steelers and his high school dumbbells retrieved from his parents' house, was complete with the arrival of a Jugs machine, which he kept in the barn and carried to a flat area in one of the pastures.

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However, staving off boredom is a challenge whenever he's in Pittsburgh, a more crowded city with fewer options for keeping busy.

"When I was in Texas, I'd work out, do my virtual [team] meetings and then I'd have to find something to do cause I can't just sit in the house," Washington said last week, after he, JuJu Smith-Schuster and fellow receiver Ryan Switzer worked out in quarterback Ben Roethlisberger's home weight room. "Being on the farm really helped me a lot, because there was always something that could have been done."

Washington loves his farm so much his recent stay in Pittsburgh was short-lived. He returned to Texas on Wednesday to celebrate Memorial Day weekend with family and tend to his most recent purchase: cattle. The time away from the Steelers' facility has also given Washington time to think.

"It just doesn't feel right," he said. "Everybody feels like we should be at the facility, doing physical stuff, getting ready to go. ... Even if there's no fans, we still have to go out there and just go 110 percent, even if it would feel weird. Fans help make the game. It's really crazy to think about.

"Just being away from things, you really find out how much you miss the sport. It sucks. That's really what I figured out. That I love football." Source - ESPN

#nfl

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pkmnsdarkqueen · 4 years

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Drabble-So calls my heart to bad decisions. (Sinnoh)

Based on this , cause I can’t get it out of my head and I think it’d be funny to give mini versions of the crack ideas I said. Cut cause of length.

“You know as architecturally fascinating as this place is I think I like the Eterna base better.” “Wait seriously? All of the fun planning stuff that you love is here though. I mean we just read through notes in a lab about the lake guardians. That is your exact cup of tea.” “Yeah I knoooow but it was so much more dilapidated. How is this place still so clean?” “The various roombas might have something to do with it.”

Will chimed in as he stepped to the side to let another one slide by. When they talked to Cynthia she had mentioned the leader having an affinity for robots and machines which is why both Karen and Will hadn’t batted an eye at seeing a roomba in every room puttering around.

Still Karen had expected it to be a bit more chaotic. I mean at least some wall paper starting to peel, a nick in a wall here and there, but no the place was just uncannily spotless. It made her wonder if anyone was still living there. They had encountered said issue before which had thankfully resolved itself. This time though she wasn’t so sure since as far as she knew they hadn’t met many Galactic members.

Continuing in their exploits they both looked around the giant hall they’d entered. There wasn’t anything in the room except of course another roomba, guess they all were active this time of night, and a large podium area built into the room. As soon as they saw this Karen already knew what Will was about to say.

“I want to get up there.” “Ok well let’s keep looking around and see if we can find stairs or another door, or-” “No way that’s lame, and these trips are for fun remember!”

Will cut her off running towards the wall starting to jump. The woman shook her head watching him miss the ledge by a long shot. Oh she already knew this wasn’t going to end well.

“And how are you going to get up there from this room? That ledge is a whole you taller, and if you hadn’t noticed this place is stupidly minimalistic.”

She countered leaning against one of the walls to watch the show. He had moved from trying to jump it to knocking along the walls of the room. Personally she hoped he had taken her advice and was looking for a hidden stair case or something. Sure enough at one point there was a hollow thud causing both of them to perk up. Will grinned from ear to ear starting to see what objects he could manipulate. A hinge, a lock, some part of a door, and sure enough he was able to locate the spot to press on the wall. The panel cracked open with a small pop, and Will flung the door wide revealing chairs. Again practically spotless organized room with many stacks of chairs.

“This is how.” “Oh this is going to be a bad idea.” “It is not ye of little faith! Watch me dazzle you with my genius.” “I’m going to tell Lance those were your final words before you broke your neck.”

Karen told him watching him use the dolly to position a stack by the wall. He could possibly reach now but looking at the chairs she wasn’t sure how steady taht tower would be. Sure they were your regular auditorium like chairs which was better than folding chairs, but as he said she was ye of little faith.

“I’ll be fine, just be sure to catch me if I fall.” “No way, if I do that you’ll probably take both of us down. If you fall I’m going to say karma, and then laugh in your face.” “At least one of us will be able to laugh at my pain because I’m betting on a few broken ribs if I fail.” “How reassuring.”

Despite the shaking tower and general poor decision this was He was making progress. He always had the better sense of balance and so she watched silently as he grunted and huffed his way to the top of the stack. By the time he reached the top he had gotten the right height too, and was able to reach over to grab the lip of the wall. A few more scrambled moments and he had managed to crawl his way on to the other side giving a final kick to the chair pile which started to tip. HIs victorious pose of with two fisted hands in the air was met with the crashing applause of many chairs crashing to the floor. So much for this place being kept practically spotless.

“You know I admire the grit that took, but question. You could of floated there Mr. Hi yeah so I’m psychic.” “I know but I want to save it in case we run into something or someone dangerous. Like what if this Cyrus guy has befriended Girintina right after getting sucked up in that world between worlds and he’s watching us right now with the weird science over there, gets mad we’re wrecking his stuff and BOOM!”

He emphasized smashing his fist on the short wall.

“Girintina and him burst through and attack us!” “I think that marathon of all the Godzilla movies followed by season one of Stargate SG1 was a bad idea.” “You’re just like killing my imagination.”

Will pouted having found a few pieces of paper to ball up one of which he threw at her. Easily it was caught by the woman who, out of curiosity started to unfold it. Huh, well this was interesting.

“Hey Will the paper you tossed down looks like an old speech. Damn you know some of the phrases in here look familiar,’this is of upmost importance, you know the price of failure.’” “Secrecy is key, keeps your senses sharp, oooh I found the one I used to hear all the time! Don’t disappoint me.”

The elite mocked using an older deeper man voice to pull a chuckle from Karen.

“Oh but you sure did disappoint, but not as badly as Sham and Carl did some days. We really outclassed them so soon after joining, you know they had every right to be mad at us for that.”

The woman chimed in remembering well the day they basically became the right hand men and pushing those two out of their place. Despite being both younger, and not around as long they were quite the trained soldiers. In retro-spect that was not a good thing, but in some weird way Karen still felt pride in that.

“I’m sorry I think you mean Coral and Shoe which I remember him calling them once because he forgot their names. I fully agree that they had every right to be mad at us. We were nothing but some dorks that showed up, I came already born with powers, you are just well, you’re yourself.” “You know normally you say that as an insult.” “And this time I mean it as a compliment because compared to those two you came in Black Widow even without training yet. Then next thing you know we’re top dogs, we manage to connect with legendary pokemon, and are given control to command them, we get trusted to guard the main plan in the end, and are openly the favorite. I don’t blame them for hating our guts as kids. To be fair we deserved that hate, and all the other hate we’ve gotten. It’s a good thing like came and kicked us in the nuts when it did because if it hadn’t I’m telling you right now we would of likely ran that branch of Rocket after Pryce up and zipped off!”

The psychic started to rant. It was always fun when he started this. It was like watching a comedy special done by a very well dressed individual, with the accompanying hand gestures and pacing. All it took was a little audience participation and he’d go on a roll. What better place for him to give a speech than here.

“Oh us run the joint, huh? Now this I want to hear.”

Karen encouraged seeing her friend grin as he straightened up.

“Let me tell you then! Now we both know if we knew the real reason that garbage human being wanted our help, reunite a lapras with it’s family, we would of revolted!” “Revolted?” “I fucking said it! Viva la revolution, and everything because we both knew all the shit we’d gone through wasn’t worth THAT! So if you’d listened to me and backed off of Blue when ya did we would of had not one, not two, but three legendary birds, and Ho-oh and Lugia cause there is no way we’d give them back after finding out his big plan. SO we’d take those birds, we’d rally up some of the other Rocket members in the other districts who’d follow us cause we ACTUALLY would manage to have control over real legendary pokemon and played our cards right till we and our group were strong enough to take down the league.”

He stressed grabbing the edge of the concrete wall to lean in.

“Cause when you put Karen and Will together we are such goddamn unstoppable forces not even Arceus can stop you and I.”

Karen was grinning watching him give his little motivational speech and clapped her hands shouting encore a few times to boost the dramatics of his little speech. He of course did not take this in a humble stride giving dramatic bows as if they had a large audience to entertain complete with blowing a kiss and pretending to weep. All dramatic exaggerations until one sweep of his hand and misstep seemed to be a bit too grand. Unaware there was more paper scattered on the ground his foot started to slip. HIs latest ‘thank you’ was cut short as he felt his weight go over the edge. Even grabbing it was no good as he started to tip. Karen stopped her applause once she saw this breaking into a run as she raced over to catch him. Although she too took a tumble after not seeing a chair by her feet.

There was a crash as the chairs collided with each other again now with an added person. The one to land after skidding against the floor was Karen. Will floated above her giving a hiss knowing that had to hurt.

“....well, now who forgot I could float.”

He muttered feeling her hand grab his ankle and yank him down. With concentration broken he fell the last half a foot. Ok maybe he deserved that.

“You know funnily enough I was about to swing the conservation to talking about how it’s a good thing we ended up where we are. Life has a way of kicking folks like us down a peg.....or in this case pride comes before fall.”

There was a long pause as Karen simply stared at him dead pan before shaking her head starting to laugh. Sure she was still bruised and so was he, but hey they might as well enjoy this laugh even if it was a stupid one.

#drabble #for fun #psychic master will #(cyrus i watching them and judging them)

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takemedancingmaine · 5 years

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Brunch and Bonding

“Ruby!”

Liam called my name as soon as I opened the cafe door. I didn't even have a second to look around or judge how busy the place was. I was still half out of the building when I looked over and spotted him and Louis and Niall holding down a table for us.

“Hi!” I smiled wide at the sight of them and shrugged off my coat as I made my way over to the table they'd chosen. Louis has placed himself next to Liam, so I sat down next to Niall.

“Cleo is going to be a little late, but Ana and Harry are on their way,” Liam said as he passed me a menu. He had his glasses on again. I think he was starting to do it more now as a style choice rather than just always wearing contacts. They looked nice, despite the teasing Harry had done the first time he’d seen them.

I smiled at him in thanks and then looked from him to Louis, who had this ridiculous smug look pulled onto his face. I wanted to knock it off his face but I restrained myself. Barely.

“Did you have any trouble with the train?” Louis asked with a nod toward a couple at the counter of the cafe who were decked out in Cubs gear and were grabbing their coffees to go.

“The platform was miserable,” I shook my head at the thought of just how packed it was. Platform foot traffic was being controlled by police it was so bad. Hordes of people waiting for the elevator and what looked like a funnel effect of people trying to squeeze down the stairs made the trip up the stairs all the more horrific.

“If I didn’t love the Cubs so much… They’re playing the Red Sox today, and I kind of wanted to deck one of their fans,” I shrugged

It could be worse. I was getting on the train where everyone else was getting off. The train cars were relatively empty for me. For everyone else in either direction though, the cars were packed worse than they could get during rush hour and that probably explained why Cleo, Ana, and Harry weren’t here yet. Some trains didn’t even bother stopping at some of the stations because they were too full.

I reached across Niall to steal Louis’ orange juice and managed a sip before he yanked the glass from my hand as I was taking a second sip.

I got orange juice up my nose. Immediately, I started coughing and tried to cover my face with my hands as fast as possible.

“Oh, come on, Ruby! You’re in public,” Louis chastised me with a glint of humour in his eyes while Niall worked quickly to hand me his napkin that had been spread across his lap. Liam just giggled, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes popping out, very much used to mine and Louis’ endless banter.

“Thank you,” I said to Niall as I wiped the orange juice off my face and hand. I then swapped his dirty napkin for my clean one.

“No problem,” he said. He smiled and unfolded my clean napkin across his lap as I left his used one bunched on the table beside me.

“I can’t take you two anywhere,” Liam shook his head while using his teacher voice. Louis and I rolled our eyes together at him.

Niall laughed at that. “Two peas from the same pod,” he looked between me and Louis.

I shrugged and Louis raised his glass of orange juice to me in a mock toast before taking a sip. I flipped him the bird.

“So you’re a baseball fan then?” Niall asked me as Louis went back to his menu and Liam started typing on his phone that had chirped a few times throughout the ordeal.

“I’m a Cubs fan, yeah,” I nodded. “I didn’t pay attention to baseball at all until I got to college and went to baseball games, and Cleo’s a massive Cubs fan so I became one by association. Now that I’m here I’m always going. I never can watch it on TV though,” I explained. “I can sit all day and watch it when I’m in a stadium, but I get bored after five minutes if I’m watching on television.”

“It must be great then living that close to the stadium,” he said and took a drink from his mug. I couldn’t tell if it was coffee or tea. Although I had a suspicion he drank tea because of his European roots, he also struck me as someone that would drink multiple cups of coffee a day.

“I love it,” I told him and smiled, thinking about how much I loved Wrigley Field. It was like a second home. More often than not I’d go to games alone. Weeknight games and early in the day weekend games when my friends were busy… I’d just go, get a beer (for a jacked up price, to be fair), and sit and watch and relax. For me, baseball was about the atmosphere. I would breathe it in whenever I could.

“It’s the one sport I don’t understand,” he shook his head now. “I’ve been to a few games, but I just never really got it.”

I had to bite back my gasp. I couldn’t really be the one to say anything because I didn’t care about it for the first eighteen years of my life, but I also cared so much now that it was odd to me that he didn’t.

Louis gave Niall a look over his menu. I saw it because I had glanced at Louis when Niall said he didn’t understand baseball. Louis looked from Niall to me with amusement written all over his features. I quirked an eyebrow but Louis just shook his head. Niall, who’d been looking at his own menu, has missed mine and Louis’ silent exchange.

“Well, the Cubs have made the National League Championship series, and we might be going as a group to one of the games,” I said to Niall now. “So if that happens, you’ll have to pretend to enjoy it for a few hours.”

“Or I could pretend to be sick,” he smiled and then laughed when I gave him a look of surprise. “I’m totally kidding. Sitting out in the cold with my mates drinking pints is something I’m always up for, even if baseball is involved.”

“Good,” I gave him a look and he smiled at me, his blue eyes flashing with delight before we both turned back to our menus.

“Can I get you something to drink?” The waitress had come up beside me and scared me half to death. With the cafe being full of people I hadn’t heard her approach and suddenly she was speaking to me from less than a foot away.

Quickly I ordered a cup of green tea as my heart rate slowed back down. When the waitress walked away I could see Niall smirking as he looked studiously down at his menu and ignored my gaze.

Just as I was about to call him out for it, Harry sat down beside me with a bright green and yellow Packers jersey on over his sweater.

I just laughed at his audacity as everyone else looked up and noticed his and Ana’s arrival.

“Before anyone says anything,” Ana said in a tired voice as she sat down next to Liam on the opposite side of the table, “I told him not to wear it.” She poured herself a glass of water and smiled at us all.

“They’re my team!” Harry defended himself as he leaned in and gave me a one armed hug. I hugged him back and fluffed his curly hair a bit before righting myself and handing him my menu. I’d made my choice.

“You’re from Ohio!” Liam groaned. “I cannot believe I have to be seen in public with you while you’re wearing that thing.” He was looked around us in hopes that no one in the cafe was giving us dirty looks for Harry’s attire choice. I doubted anyone here would say anything, but Liam’s cheeks flamed as he surveilled.

“No one in my family likes football,” Harry shrugged. “I just chose a team when I was younger and went with it.”

“We’ve heard all of your excuses before,” Louis waved his hand flippantly. “How was your dancing class?”

Harry’s cheeks turned the brightest shade of pink at the mention of the dancing class that he and Ana were in so that they could get ready for their wedding reception.

Harry was embarrassed, but Ana thought they were a good idea. Not just for their first dance--she knew Harry would be able to manage their first dance fine, it’s a basic step--but for the rest of the reception. Knowing Ana and Harry, they’d pick some absolutely ridiculous songs to play and Harry would undoubtedly show his true colours when they came on.

As a result of a few nights out, we all knew that Harry’s dancing fit into one of two categories. The first was dirty; he could be cheeky and crude despite his angelic looks. The second of which was much funnier: it was dad dancing. This second category included quite a bit of finger pointing and hip shimmying. He could make any night out entertaining for all of us no matter which category he was choosing his dance moves from at the time.

Ana’s face took on a devious look though and as Harry hid his face in his hands she started to tell a story from their class. Liam and Louis leaned forward in anticipation.

“He was like a baby giraffe,” she laughed and I heard him groan from beside me.

I smirked and listened along with everyone else as the waitress came by and dropped off my tea. We all ordered food quickly--Liam telling us Cleo said not to wait last he had checked the group chat--and Ana went back into the story.

“So we’re alone in this studio waiting for everyone else in the class to show up--because in typical Harry fashion we’d gotten there awkwardly early--and I’m trying to act like everything is fine, but Harry is stood in front of the mirrors just pulling out all these old man dance moves and a group of firefighters all dressed up in their gear walks by the big glass windows in the back of the room and they start cheering him on and I’m mortified! But Harry here kept going. He was enjoying it!”

One glance at the man beside me shows me that he’s not enjoying the retelling, even if he did enjoy it at the time. We’re all in a fit of hysterics when Ana pulls out her phone and shows us some video evidence of the incident. I can feel my sides aching by the time our food arrives and we all settle down enough to eat and talk about the music trivia night Cleo had sent to us last night.

When she finally arrived, she looked radiant as she sat down beside Ana and settled into our conversation. Cleo had put makeup on and was wearing a sweater that I was positive covered up a cute blouse. She was wearing her cleanest pair of loafers and nicest pair of black skinny jeans.

She had a date later.

I raised my eyebrow at her as I took a sip of my newly refreshed tea. She gave me a smirk and a nod in return while she listened to Liam talk about plans for trivia night. It wasn’t for around three weeks, but if anyone knows anything about Liam it’s that he’s a planner.

So I was right. She did have a date after this.

It was when Liam was asking Niall a question about his music knowledge that my ears perked up.

“Basically anything after 1960 is fair game for me,” he answered Liam. “My dad was big on oldies when I was growing up, but me mum made sure to introduce me to anything that was big currently.”

“Niall was also a music minor,” Louis said before stuffing a bit of blueberry muffin into his mouth. He made a face before looking down at the muffin. I just knew he was thinking through the ingredients and trying to pinpoint the tastes he was experiencing. “He’s literally always listening to music or playing it. D’you still have your guitar?”

“I’m not always listening to it,” Niall blushed and hid his face for a moment behind his mug. “And yeah, I still have my guitar. Just use it for messing about though, nothing serious.”

“This is so good,” Louis looked down at the blueberry muffin he still had in his hand. Harry laughed at him.

“It’s literally all he thinks about,” Harry laughed more. Louis flipped him off, but he didn’t look quite so upset, just went back to eating and listening to Liam.

I turned to Niall. “What kind of music did your dad listen to?” I asked.

“Oh,” Niall smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “All sorts,” he said. “We used to go on long drives and he’d always have a cassette tape playing.”

I laughed at that. “I remember my mom’s cassettes all over our car when I was younger, too.”

Niall brightened at that common ground between us. “We’d just go out and it might be five minutes or three hours to visit his family and we’d be singing along to The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac. He loved Bruce Springsteen and Elton John. Billy Joel was big, too. But he had different stuff too, like Warren Zevon and even some boppy 80s stuff like Naked Eyes and all of the really big one hit wonder stuff from that era too.”

“He sounds a lot like my dad,” I told him with a soft smile. “When my dad came to the States he was young, and even though his parents tried to instil as much of their culture in him as they could, he found he could assimilate himself best, learn the language best, by listening to the popular music of the time.”

“Doing chores with my dad like washing the cars and cleaning out the garage meant we’d be listening to the Beatles and the big 70s and 80s rock bands,” I picked up my mug and held it in my hands, warming them. “He wanted us to know that he found himself in America with the help of the music that was popular when he was growing up. So even though he’d rather listen to oldies, he’d sometimes switch the radio to top 40 when we’d be driving to school.”

“Oh sick,” Niall turned a little bit more to face me. “What was your favourite?” he asked.

I thought for a moment, my face scrunching up as I tried to sort through memories and songs. In the span of a few seconds I had flashbacks of doing homework in my room as my dad did the dishes after dinner while listening to The Beatles and of my sister and I getting driven to school with The Who playing in the background or The Eagles playing while he read the newspaper in his office, the sounds floating under the closed door. I kept seeing memory after memory, hearing song after song.

“I don’t think I can choose,” I admitted. “It’s a cop-out, I know, but… When I hear a song from when I was growing up I just fill up with memories from when I first heard it. I mean, every time I hear Video Killed the Radio Star and Crocodile Rock I think of my sister and the two of us dancing in the back seat of the van we had. Each song is a memory. I couldn’t possibly choose.”

Niall doesn’t say anything for a long time. He stayed silent as he watched me, his eyes searching my face for something. He looked excited, but also curious. It gave me time to look him over for the first time during the meal.

His hair wasn’t styled up like it was all of the other times I'd seen him, rather it was kind of flopping into his face and he’d had to keep pushing it aside. He was wearing his glasses as well. These rounded tortoiseshell things that sat perched on his perfectly straight nose--not that I’d studied his profile or anything in the few times we’d been together. He didn’t look tired either, and I’d assumed he would be after moving time zones and going back to work full time. To put it simply, he looked good.

I refused to look at Louis after that thought crossed my mind. I knew he'd be able to read my face and I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of thinking he was right: he wasn't. I could think that Niall looked good. It didn't mean anything.

“How is it that you just described my thoughts on music exactly?” he asked finally. His voice was soft, almost as if he spoke louder it might disturb whatever he was thinking about, and his eyes were wide with what I assumed was amazement.

I shook my head and took a breath.

“I don't know,” I told him truthfully.

“Isn't it crazy how music can do that, though?”

He looks so into the conversation, so passionate about music and our similar experiences with it. My mind kept rolling and rolling over the fact that we'd had completely different upbringings and yet here we were sitting beside each other in a cafe in Chicago discussing how similar we were at the same time.

“I guess what they say is true,” he said now, his voice conveying the amazement. “Music really is a universal language.”

“It must be.”

“What are we doing here?”

Eventually, Cleo had left to go to her date--which she had promised to tell us all about--so the six of us had decided that we’d just wander around the Magnificent Mile shops before heading our separate ways. Liam and Louis wanted to go to TopShop because they think they are hip and cool, and Ana and I were excited because it was right next to a chocolate shop where they were always giving out free samples.

Harry and Niall were hanging back from the group. They'd done a quick walk around the shop with Liam and Louis, neither of them having found anything. They then left them to their shopping and had come to find me and Ana. The two of us had just gotten our free samples and were meandering around the store when Harry and Niall came up behind us.

Ana rolled her eyes at Harry and shrugged.

“We are looking at all the things I would be indulging in if I didn't have to get fitted for a wedding dress in the very near future.”

Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

“You're perfect no matter what,” he said to her and she leaned back into him.

It was adorable to watch as they interacted, but I felt like I was watching something very personal and so I took a step back away from them, continuing to browse as if I would ever buy anything here.

Niall must’ve had the same idea about Ana and Harry and I felt him step up beside me.

He was close enough that I could smell him despite the overwhelming smell of chocolate products, a clean a mix of laundry detergent and whatever cologne he’d put on before he came out for brunch. I tried not to think too much about getting closer and having that scent drag me down.

It should be noted that Niall was currently donning a jean jacket to fight off the chill that had descended once the clouds came out and a wide brim hat, the latter of which explained his hair being much more floppy than usual before. The hat sat right above his ears and just covered his hairline.

It should have looked ridiculous.

It didn’t.

“D’you want my sample?” he asked now as he held up the chocolate to me.

“You don’t want it?” I asked.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, an almost longing look on his face. “I can’t have dairy.”

“You’re lactose intolerant?”

“I think I might be,” he nodded. “Dairy gives me acid reflux, so I stay away from it.”

“Well in that case,” I held my hand out and he placed his chocolate in my hand beside the one I already had. “If I’m helping you out I suppose I can look at it as a good deed.”

He laughed at that. I smiled at his laugh as I slipped both sweets into my coat pocket for later.

“You know one tiny piece of chocolate probably wouldn't kill you,” I said now.

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. But if I start cheating here and there then I'll open myself up to bigger cheats and then I'll be right back where I started.”

“Once you're in you're all in?”

“Oh, it's horrible,” he smiled. “First it's a seemingly harmless chocolate square, then it's some whole milk in my coffee, and then I'll be eating yoghurt and cheese quesadillas and doubled over in pain while desperately chugging down some antacids.”

“Vivid.”

“Thank you,” he gave me a smirk.

“So you drink coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Not tea?”

“I only started drinking coffee when I was twenty-six,” he said. “I held out with tea for as long as I could but once I started on coffee I couldn't go back.”

“It’s so bitter,” I picked up a candy bar and looked at the nutrition facts on the back. I felt my eyes widen as I looked and then I gently placed the candy bar back down.

“I've gotten used to it,” he shrugged. “I only drink it for the caffeine and since I figured out my lactose thing I've started drinking black coffee.”

“You don't even put sugar in it, do you?”

He shook his head.

“Ew,” I made a face.

He laughed but shrugged off my disgust. “There are worse things.”

“Like getting orange juice up your nose because your friend is an insolent child?” I asked.

He wanted to laugh again, I could tell. He held back though.

“Well to be fair you did steal it,” he said.

I gasped. “You're on his side, then?”

“No no no,” he shook his head. “No, I was just presenting the other side of the argument. Making it a fair representation.”

I narrowed my eyes at him but don't say anything. A giggle did end up escaping him but he quickly moulded his face back to neutral before I turned to look.

I found myself throughout the morning enjoying multiple things about Niall.

The first of which was his laugh. Niall laughed loudly and without any inhibitions. He really didn't care who heard. He would throw his head back and close his eyes and just laugh. I'd never met someone who was so bright.

The second was his voice. I’d been around people from all over, grown up with parents that had accents thicker than curry paste itself, but something about Niall’s voice… his cadence and his timbre were all together working to draw me in.

I could quite literally listen to him talk for ages and not get tired of it. Even if he read me the Encyclopedia. I wouldn't get bored. I didn't think any deeper than that, just kept my liking his voice surface level.

“What I don't get,” Niall said now, “is why you didn't just order your own orange juice when you had the chance.”

I laughed. “I don't drink it. I just did it to get under Louis’ skin.”

“You don't drink orange juice?” Niall gave me a look.

“Growing up my parents never let us have juice; they weren't fans of the sugar in it and I just never buy it now. I don't know, I just never felt the need or the want to buy it.”

“You're weird,” he said finally.

I shoved his shoulder, but I didn't take any offence at his words. I got so much crap from my friends for my eating habits, Cleo especially, that I wasn't bothered.

He gave me a smile as we waited for Harry to get his hot chocolate and then we waited outside for Liam and Louis. They each had shopping bags hanging from their hands when they did eventually come up to us.

“Time do you call this?” Ana made a big show of looking at her watch. Liam and Louis started defending themselves, but we all know that they're massive divas about clothes and fashion and that they definitely did not cut their trip short, even knowing that we were waiting for them.

“Get yourself another jean jacket then?” I asked Louis.

“Oh, come off it, I've only got two,” he glared.

“Oh yeah?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Fine. I've got three.”

“There it is. There's the truth,” I nudged him. He just glared at me some more.

“Well,” Ana sighed. “We’ve got to get home. Someone decided to make dinner last night and the mess has yet to be cleaned up. It's literally overtaking the whole apartment.”

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “I've got an apartment showing later on that I've got to be ready for.”

“You and your side hustle,” Louis shook his head.

Liam had a real estate license and if he had spare time over the weekend when he wasn't working on lesson plans and grading papers, he would do showings, trying to make a bit of extra money. He invested everything, too. Liam was very big on planning ahead--the most recent example being the planning of our trivia night tactics.

“This is a nice apartment,” he said. “If I get the commission I'm finally going to buy a condo instead of renting.”

“Ayyy,” Harry hollered.

“Congratulations,” I jumped up.

“It's all dependent on if I get this sale, but I'm pretty stoked,” Liam beamed back at us all. “I've been looking at places for a few months now.”

“Good luck to you then, Liam,” Ana reached over and hugged him.

“I'll see you guys later then,” Louis nodded. He gave us each a hug and then gave me a pointed look before looking at Niall. He was very conspicuous about it. If Niall has been paying any attention to either of us, he would've definitely seen it. I flicked his ear and he just shrugged it off before walking off with a self-satisfied smile.

“You going to the train?” I asked Niall.

“I am.”

“Well then let's go,” I nodded toward where the station was a few blocks over.

We said our goodbyes the rest of the group and walked off together.

“So what's the deal with the hat?”

“It's because of the hair,” he reached up and adjusted his hat just a bit. “I didn't do anything with it today, so I just shoved a hat on before leaving my flat.”

“I thought your hair looked fine before.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It looked floofy.”

“Floofy?” He looked over and raised his eyebrow at me, it just about touched the brim of his hat.

“Floofy.”

“Is that good or bad?” He asked.

“Good,” I nodded. “It looked good.”

“I think it's getting too long,” he shook his head, dodging someone on a bike. Because some people like to pretend they're allowed to ride bikes on the sidewalk. Those people suck.

“I think you're worried over nothing,” I said.

“Probably,” he shrugged. “You don’t think the hat is dumb, though?”

“No,” I said. “I actually keep thinking it really shouldn’t work, but somehow it does.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment as well then.”

“It was one.”

We walked together in silence for a while until we got to the station. It was a comfortable silence. Niall beside me was a welcome presence and I was trying not to think about the fact that I could still smell him with each light breeze that blew past us. That clean smell mixed with whatever his cologne was was doing something to my senses. I ignored it. Or tried to.

“Oh,” I said once we got onto the platform, the wind sharper up here, the clouds seemingly more ominous. “How’s the new job?”

His face lit up. A thrill ran down my spine at the sight of his smile, his whole demeanour brightening.

“I love it,” he said now, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

“That’s brilliant!”

“I’m genuinely so happy there,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another, swaying a bit. “It’s like… I spent so long working such crappy jobs and I’ve got all this experience and knowledge and now I’ve got a job with people who seem nice enough and I’m back in Chicago. I’m doing the work I like. Everything seems like it’s falling into place and I’m just really happy with my job.”

“What’s your favourite part?”

“We have this break room, right?” He started as the train came rolling up. “It’s got a coffee machine, one of those pod ones, and a kettle for tea or whatever. The room is filled with all these fun colours and comfy chairs and books that just look so worn down and generously read and loved and I really just want to hole up in there with one of the books and a cup of coffee and just read and relax. The fact that I can relax at work, have a space to do that… It feels really good.”

“I’m really glad you’re enjoying it,” I told him. “It must be nice to be back here and have finally gotten a real job.”

“It’s been pretty great,” he nodded.

We sat down beside each other on the packed train car and eyed up the man who was in charge of three young girls sitting across from us. The man looked miserable, and the girls were using the bars a bit like a jungle gym. The man didn’t even bother to corral the girls, just looked on helplessly as they swung back and forth.

I smirked at Niall and he gave me the same look back and bumped his knee against mine.

“Have you got the song queued up?” he asked.

“Oh shirt!” I said pulling my phone out of my pocket quickly and slipping the head buds out, handing one to Niall and taking one for myself.

“Nice,” he smiled at me and we just sat there for a moment before the voiceover announced Fullerton as the next stop.

“Here we go,” I clicked play and for the next two minutes and forty seconds we sat together listening to the song. Occasionally, Niall’s knee would bump into mine and each time it happened, I’d blush and run a hand through my hair.

By the time the song ended and we arrived at Fullerton I was really rather red in the face, even with my darker complexion I was sure Niall noticed as he bid me farewell and stepped off the train.

Once he’d stepped off he threw me one last look over his shoulder and I waved, giving him a smile back before the train doors closed and I was carried off toward home where I knew I had grocery shopping and cleaning to do.

#I'm still here #still writing this story #as if i'm not the only one i'm writing it for #check it out!#i think it's pretty baller -- you might too!#fic: oth #fic: only ticket home #OTH7 #niall horan fanfic #1dff

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bexminx · 5 years

Text

15 for 15 Tag

I was tagged a while ago by the fantastic @fourohfourlifenotfound for this and I’m finally catching up on my tags. I’ve done this before, but I love the idea of filling this out from the POV of one of my characters.

The character answering this is Ciaran from my wip Stillcity... At the start of the story when he is sixteen going on seventeen.

1. Are you named after anyone?

My dad named me after my mum’s grandfather. My aunt told me it was close thing because dad nearly named me after my mum to give me a reminder of her but aunt Eda convinced him that Aoife was too hard to make masculine.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I don’t really cry that much. I guess my birthday... It’s hard knowing that it’s the same day as when mum died.

3. Do you have/want kids?

I never really thought about it. I mean I’m seventeen, urgh, next question.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Sarcasm? Me? Never. Honestly though, it’s my main form of communication.

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

Eyes. People’s eyes always give away more than they want to.

6. What’s your eye color?

Purple, weird purple. I guess it’s okay though, because dad always says it’s a part of mum that I’ll always have with me. Damn, why does every question get depressing?

7. Scary story or happy ending?

I always liked the stories Aunt Eda told me about legendary heroes who saved the day. So I guess happy endings.

8. Any special talents?

Ummm, dad taught me how to fight and hunt. I’m pretty good at that. And Aunt Eda taught me how to cook. Nothing really special. Oh yeah, and I’m pretty quick on my feet. My friend Pádruíg is the only one who even has a chance at catching me.

9. Where were you born?

Middle Tier, Stillcity. The Mother brought a forest to stand around the city on the day I was born, it doesn’t happen very often. I think only two of my friends were born with the Mother’s forest near the city.

10. What are your hobbies?

Learning about the Mother. I love talking to people who have been out in The Undulating Lands. Oh yeah, and me and my friends... Gah okay Eda, my friends and I, take on odd jobs for the hunters and merchants when we’re not at school. And when Dad comes home we always go out hunting.

11. Do you have any pets?

When I was five I had a swiftkit. His name was Rás and Aunt Edana bought him off a hunter who had wounded him and thought he could get a good price. A couple of my friends had dogs but Rás was so much better and I had to keep up with him so I think that’s how I got so fast. I always pretended he was meant to be mine because his black and red fur looked a bit like my hair.

12. What sports do you play/have you played?

When I was younger we always played Capture the Castle. It’s not really a sport, but we had leagues and stuff, on days we didn’t have school we would meet in alleyways behind the Market Streets. Whoever lost the toss would be the Nentar and have to try and capture the ‘Ryxian Castle’ and the Guards and Scouts team would have to try and capture the Nentar city. The abandoned house at the keep-end of the alley was always Stillcity and at the end of the alley two streets over was the Nentar city. It sounds stupid now, but when I was fourteen it was the highlight of my week to pretend I was a warrior and beat up the other team with the padded swords we made.

13. How tall are you?

I’m taller than all my friends except Faolan, but he’s a bit of a freak. I’m pretty much exactly six feet tall.

14. Favourite subject in school?

City Infrastructure. Pádruíg and Iarann think I’m a total oddity, but I think it’s awesome that our city pretty much runs because the Mages left behind magical machines that are still running. I tried to tell Pád about the pumps in the tunnels below the castle that clean the water and circulate it around the city, but he couldn’t hear me because he was laughing too hard. It’s not my fault he’s an idiot...

15. Dream job?

I’m going to be a Royal Guard like my dad. Dad said that when I’m old enough he’ll look at paying my way through the School of Soldiers. I never wanted to be anything else. Except maybe a Lorekeeper... But I’m not good enough in school for that really.

Tagging... my taglist @writingwordsanddrawingpictures @marewriteblr @aarrimas @intheeunder @thatchaoticneutraltrainwreck @ivegotfireforaheart-studyrecipe. And tagging @knightsofeclipse, @luna-evans-writes, @writings-of-a-narwhal and @cawolters in case they’d like to do it for one of their characters :)

#tag game #Stillcity #15 for 15 #my wip #my characters

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bnha-heroofheadcanons · 6 years

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shoto x fem reader. fem reader used to be part of the league of villains but ran away when she was nine. she has a huge fear of kurogiri and shirogaki and when the attack on the usj happens, her past with them is revealed

hmm~ these sort of reveal things seem popular and they’re cute to do~

~~~

You had been kidnapped shortly after you were born, your mother and father were rising star heroes and the people who kidnapped you wanted to have you in case you ended up with a useful quirk. Kurogiri was the one who took you from the hospital, everyone was scared and upset when you went missing, your mother and father never stopped searching for you. Unfortunately as soon as you started understanding things Kurogiri and Shigaraki started trying to groom you into thinking that heroes were very bad and horrible people. It mostly worked and once your quirk developed as they’d hoped it would; a combination of your parent’s quirks, they were thrilled and immediately made you start doing work for them. You did some pretty awful things for them, but these people were awful and horrible heroes! They didn’t deserve the mercy of the League of Villians that Kurogiri, Shigaraki, and their Master wanted to build.

However…during one of your intel missions, Endeavor appeared, he fought the ones who the League were using to take down this one little hero agency but also…saved the people who were being crushed under the rubble. It startled your nine year old brain, because weren’t heroes supposed to be bad? When you return that night you start secretly watching heroes do work and quickly realize no, you’re the bad one. There’s a measure of trust from Kurogiri and Shigaraki so you’re left alone at night and that same evening…you pack a small bag of your most precious belongings and escape the League. Kurogiri can never figure out your exact location or coordinates so it’s very easy to hide from them. Eventually though you realize how actually horribly Shigaraki and Kurogiri treated you and have developed a fear of them.

You’re nine and don’t really have anywhere to go so you end up living as a homeless person on the streets for a few months, before, in a twist of fate you hadn’t expected Endeavor; the hero you were a fan of, found you, “What are you doing kid?” He sounds a bit angrier than you thought he would, so you flinch and curl in on yourself, knees to your chest. “Don’t be a coward and speak up.”

The underlying anger is upsetting but you do finally answer him, “I…ran away from something bad…I don’t have anywhere to go.” He asks what your quirk is; an odd question but you hold up your hands as you explain, “A blend of electricity and wind abilities. It’s not really all that special, I can gather intel mostly. The wind can carry voices from fairly far away on it to my ears; my hearing is exceptional to help with this and electricity for jamming or enhancing cellsignals.” You blink up at Endeavor who’s staring at you now with…interest?

“The way you talk…kid what sort of organization did you run from?” You clam up then falling silent, you’re smart and know admitting you ran with a League of Villains will probably hinder whatever this number two hero was thinking about. “So some sort of villain organization then.” He guesses and then proceeds to pick you up with your bag and carry you with him. “You’ll make a report to the police and then you’re going to be fostered for awhile at my home. My son needs a good training partner, you should have some combative abilities if you ran with villains after all.” It doesn’t take much from there for things to be set in motion, you tell the police where you came from, you beg themnot to make any of this public though, doing so would reveal your coordinates and put you in danger of being taken again. So even though you’d like to find your parents, you decide, at nine years old to forego that situation and just let them decide where you should live. It was as Endeavor had said and they turned you over to his custody.

Months turn to years in no time, you’ve grown to hate Enji Todoroki as much as Shoto does, he’s always trying to make you two fight each other and never once refers to you as anything but ‘Shoto’s precious training partner’ even though you’ve been adopted by him. You and Shoto have never seen each other as siblings either, more like best friends who comfort each other from Enji’s wrath. Still, you can’t be wholly ungrateful, you’ve gained a lot of combative abilities and your sharp mind makes you an ideal training partner for anybody honestly. Both of you apply for UA, Shoto gets in on his dad’s recommendation but you have to do the practical exam. You wipe the floor with nearly every other score, you were trained by Endeavor after all; even if no one knew it. Your score even beats out Bakugo’s and he is very angry about it, when he finds out who you are…let’s say he often ignores Deku in order to torment you, he calls you “Air bag” a lot.

You and Shoto are close, everyone notices it, but neither of you mind, it’s only when, one lunch break you two have fallen asleep leaning against each other that your classmates start calling you the wonder couple. Shortly after the teasing starts Shoto sighs hanging his head and just sort of grabbing your hand, “That teasing made me realize something. You’re my best friend in this world but also mean more to me than that, only around you do I ever feel something aside from animosity. So…maybe we should start dating? I know my father adopted you but you refused our last name and I don’t know, you don’t feel like a sibling to me.”

You giggle, just a little because your smile is a rare thing since you started living with Enji Todoroki, “Right, I feel the same. We’ll have to keep it on the down-low from your father obviously but…well I won’t stop training with you just ‘cause you’re my boyfriend, we want to be heroes right?” He nods his agreement and you both walk home without talking much more, your relationship has always been more of a silent and powerful one.

The next day you and Shoto are teased relentlessly again but this time you both give your class just soft smiles, startling them into silence, because neither of you ever smile. The bus ride quickly becomes overwhelmed with their class teasing Bakugo into anger as they head to their rescue class. At the building; known as USJ, everything begins fine enough, until you notice a purple and black warp gate appear behind Aizawa-sensei…and just scream. It makes everyone jump and Aizawa spins on his heel to face the enemies. Nobody but Endeavor knew about your origins, you kept it secret because…who would trust you if they knew you used to be one of those fanatics? Your scream doesn’t go unnoticed however and Shigaraki’s eye focuses on you. “Hey! It’s our little intel gatherer! It’s been awhile~ How’s my favorite pawn been?” The way he says it makes it sound like you’re the one who turned traitor on the school and fed these villains the information.

“Shut up Tomura!” You screech, you’re overwhelmed by fear though and have immediately started to retreat into your own head, Aizawa jumps away with a stern warning directed at you and you flinch trying not to cry, because of course your past would catch up with you, you should have been up front from the beginning. “I’ll…become a hero, I will, no matter the price.” You hop back to your feet, knowing how fast Kurogiri is, “watch out! and don’t attack the warp guy’s mist it won’t hurt him!” In an instant there’s a purple warp gate behind you and Kurogiri is reaching for you.

“You’ll be coming back with us I think.” You scream never and dash forward, despite your earlier warning Bakugo and Kirishima do precisely what you told them not to. All of you are wrapped up in the gate, and you just pray that things will work out. You’re all teleported away and of all the people you get put with, your dropped next to Shoto. Immediately your nerves light up and you glance at Shoto who is staring around you guys hard, it’s then you realize you’re surrounded by enemies and you immediately put your back to his.

Shoto knows it’s a bad time for this but you’re the only one able to drag out his emotions, so as you two begin to fight, lightning wind and ice flying everywhere he yells at you, not angry but just sounding hurt, “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were closer than that!”

“I was scared okay? It’s not an easy thing to just bring up in conversation! ‘Oh right Shoto I used to run with a league of villains and I gave them intel on the people they fucking killed!’ Yeah it sounds real good doesn’t it? Would you have even gotten so close to me if you’d known?!” You yell back panting slightly because you’re heart was beating too fast thanks to your electric powers. “I’m jumping!” You yell and the moment your feet are off the ground Shoto freezes the rest of the villains with a massive ice burst covering every inch of them. When you land he is right in your face, nose to nose with you.

“You’ve never had any reason to be scared of me, I’ve never given you one. I wouldn’t have held it against you either, you became my best friend through adversity, I would have been way more messed up if you hadn’t been there. So don’t tell me you’d think I’d turn my back on you because you used to work for these people. You’re here now, part of UA and you got in on your own strength, you want to become a hero just like me.” He’s very quiet but he’s obviously very angry, not because you used to do villain work, but because you thought so little of him. You open your mouth to say something but he holds up a finger, “Hold on. They said something about killing All Might, I need to find out their plan.” He walks away from you, your mouth hanging open and approaches the villains, “You know…if you stay frozen like that your skin will start to rot and you’ll start to die of the frostbite, now I want to be a hero and that’s not what heroes do, but you’re going to have to tell me what you’re planning and how you’re supposed to kill All Might.” The crook instantly blabs and Shoto melts them before turning back to you. “We should hurry, come on. We’ll talk more later.”

Without another word you dash off after him, sort of staring at the ground, when you two arrive, in time for Shoto to freeze some weird creature with an exposed brain, you’re basically running on instinct and don’t really remember what happened. Aizawa grilled you, the other students watched with concerned gazes, the police explain your situation, since it’s common knowledge to them. They’d called your time with Enji rehabilitation before you’d been officially permanently placed in his care, now everyone knows that technically you and Shoto are family, but have never really acted in a familial way, just very close friends. You also explain to your classmates the situation and why you’ve not shown up in stories in newspapers and stuff, because of the warp gate villain Kurogiri, who had escaped with Tomura. One of the police officers pats your head, “It’ll be okay I’m sure, you’ve more than proven you won’t go back to the villains I think.”

Shoto walks up to you finally and places a hand on your head, asking if you want to talk now, “At home…” Is all you say and you stick to your word. “Apparently…I was stolen from a hospital. It was probably Kurogiri’s doing, he was a pretty patient guy and when I was really little I think I even saw him as my father because he’d practically raised me while Tomura was at the knees of our Master. My quirk, a perfect balance for intel gathering was just a pawn on their board, and an attempt to give Tomura a companion. He…wasn’t a nice boy however…and did some pretty awful things to me, I think I repressed some of it but either way, I was groomed to be their tool. Funny enough though…it was your dad and his hero work that made me finally notice that ‘wait are all heroes bad?’ I’d admired him as a hero for awhile and I ran away from the league, I was homeless for several months, had to steal food to eat when he happened to find me…and you know the rest.”

“Being with my father though…How did you not eventually go back to believing heroes were evil?” It was a surprising question, one you hadn’t expected and your whole face turns a brilliant red, you tell him it’s no big deal but…he smirks and grabs your hand, teasing you, “It can’t be that embarrassing, come on tell me.”

You cough and turn away from him, mumbling quietly your answer, “Because of you. Endeavor wasn’t nice but his son was amazing and powerful and sweet…and wanted to be a hero. So maybe…Endeavor is the outlier and Shoto is the majority.” You mumble it, knowing it’s childish logic but still it makes Shoto blush and feeling brave you kiss his cheek before knocking him over and cuddling up to his left side. “Listen…could you not leave until I fall asleep? I’m worried I’ll have nightmares.” He nods and pets your head settling next to you for awhile, though when you do fall asleep he’s not exactly inclined to leave.

~~~

I’m so sorry anon! TwT It suddenly got very long. Well I hope you enjoyed it anyway! I had fun doing it!

#shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha blog #bnha headcanons #bnha endeavor #todoroki enji #shiragaki tomura #kurogiri

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dcarevu · 5 years

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Batman TAS: Joker’s Favor

“She can't open the door and push it in all by herself! THINK!”

Batman the Animated Series. Teaching the dangers of road rage since 1992!

Episode: 22 Robin: No Writer: Paul Dini Director: Boyd Kirkland Animator: Dong Yang Airdate: September 11, 1992 Grade: B

Char’s main reaction to seeing this episode for the first time was, “My girl!!” She loves Harley (and Poison Ivy). For me too, it’s nice to finally introduce Harley Quinn to the DC Animated Universe. Of course, back when this episode initially aired, it was also her introduction to the world of comic books in general. Written to be a one-off henchwoman to the Joker, wow, who would have seen the massive Harley Quinn storm coming. I was working at Party City when Suicide Squad came out, and by far the most popular costume we sold to young girls and women alike was Harley Quinn. People who know nothing about Batman are at least a little familiar with her. Sometimes even more familiar with her than the Dark Knight himself. And good lord, have fun trying to buy a copy of Batman Adventures #12 for a decent price. Even reprints can cost you around 100 bucks. You know how annoying that is for someone who just wants to own a physical copy of the damn thing to read?

I can only assume that Suicide Squad was the major catapult for the hype surrounding the character. I don’t remember seeing her around nearly as much before. Although I’m sure the Arkham series helped a little bit too. And I won’t lie to you, I’m a little salty about it. Oh, believe me, it’s definitely petty “nerd rage”. Or maybe you could call it the “hipster effect”. What annoys us about liking something for so long, and then, much later, finding out that it suddenly blows up with admiration? It’s stupid, this should make us happy, right? But yes, to let the cat out of the bag, I really do love Harley Quinn’s character. At least, the DCAU version of her. I’ve never seen Suicide Squad, I’ve never read any of her comics outside of the DCAU tie-ins, and I’ve never seen any episodes of other Batman cartoons with her in it. Doesn’t particularly interest me (not that I’m directly opposed). But I know that in the DCAU she’s really interesting, she’s a lot of fun, and some of the best moments of the entire series involve her heavily. The Laughing Fish, from what I remember, is up there among my favorite episodes. And how about the flashback in ROTJ? That’s one of the best Batman stories ever told, period. She’s not my favorite villain by any means, but the show would definitely be missing something without her. Speaking of her roles in the DCAU, maybe that’s where that “hipster effect” comes from. Maybe we get salty when people are oblivious toward a character’s…or a band’s…or a show’s…or whatever’s…early days. Yeah, that’s gotta be it, right? When Pokémon Go was new, I saw people complaining because these kids hadn’t played the original Red and Blue versions. And no one would ever really get annoyed if an old album by Blink-182 suddenly spiked in sales. No, it’s only when someone discovers new stuff and isn’t familiar with anything before that. I’m not saying this behavior is rational, and I hate it whenever I feel this way (for the record, I defended those kids just getting into Pokémon through Pokémon Go who were being shit on by “gen-wunners”). But it’s a possible explanation. Maybe we feel that people are missing out or not putting in the effort to fully appreciate/respect a thing and why it is the way it is.

Even though Harley Quinn was an amazing addition to the series, she didn’t exactly start out that way. Ignoring her popularity, she doesn’t particularly stand out in this episode, at least, not to me. But she must have back then. Fans liked her so much, she started appearing in the Batman Adventures comics! But I won’t start complaining about Batman Adventures #12 again. At least, not yet… Of course, where this is the first Harley episode, it figures as such that Paul Dini is the writer. This episode shows us again that he knows how to write a great story to be taken seriously, but also knows how to inject a lot of fun into it. That seems to be what separates Dini from some of the other best writers. A lot of the most serious episodes are really damn serious, with virtually no fun to be had. But Dini throws in some cheeky bits. Harley, for example. Or Batman coming down with a cold in Heart of Ice. It’s certainly welcome, but honestly, I prefer episodes like Two-Face a little bit more. And that’s why I’ve settled on a B for this episode. Yeah, I know. Everyone raises this episode up on a pedestal and says how much of a classic it is. I won’t argue with y’all. It’s an important episode, and it is entertaining. But it’s not as entertaining as a lot of other episodes to me. I like it. I don’t love it. Sue me. Char actually felt the same way, so I’m not alone there. She loved the Joker, as usual, and loved seeing “her gurl” Harley, but as far as the actual episode goes, she only liked it. Strangely enough, I have virtually no complaints. For the most part it’s pretty flawless, unless I really want to nitpick at stupid shit (like when Joker points out Charlie’s hair-loss when he has the same amount of hair as earlier). Probably the only thing that actually made me scratch my head was during the scene where Charlie threatens Joker with one of his own bombs. Why did Charlie know it wouldn’t explode, but the Joker himself didn’t? The only thing I can really think of is that Batman was in on the joke, and rewired the thing. But that doesn’t sit too well with me either. Oh, and also the scenes involving the fight amongst the recreated temple was a little hokey, and didn’t match a lot of the flow. It was too random-seeming, plus the idea that all of these death traps would remain active is ludicrous. We do get the Joker at some of his best, though, and we even hear Batman laugh in-costume (a first for this series). If there’s one thing Batman shouldn’t do often, it’s use the bat-laugh. And the writers knew when to use it well. Just wait till Mad Love. As long as they don’t have Batman sing… I will now turn my head toward my Justice League Unlimited set and stare at it with a dead smile for a few seconds.

And what about the crime prince of clown himself? I think we get the most insight into his mind out of all the Joker episodes so far in this one. The first two Joker appearances were just sorta goofy romps that you would expect, and the next one (Be a Clown) was an episode of lesser entertainment value. Here, we take the best elements of the Be a Clown Joker and fuse it with the Joker we got more from the other episodes to create what I would consider to be the definitive DCAU Joker. Let’s go over it. Y’know those maniacs who chase you down the street just because you made the tiniest mistake while driving (sometimes it might even be more their fault than yours)? Well imagine if when they caught up to you, you saw that they were a psychotic, killing clown. That’s fun… After this happens to Charlie Collins, the Joker threatens to kill him, but ends up sparing him so that over the next two years, he can have a fun time of basically tracking, stalking, and keeping up with this man. I like this because, on one hand, it seems so silly that he’d want to do this simply because of a traffic incident. Like, doesn’t he have better things to do with this time? But also, the Joker knows that every day, Charlie lives in fear that the Joker will find and contact him. It’s the manipulative aspect that we saw in Be a Clown coming out. The Joker takes pleasure in ruining lives. We also have the whacky side of the Joker seen in The Last Laugh with how ridiculous the concept is. Going back to the hair-loss comment mention earlier in passing, I actually think it would have been really clever to start him out with a full head of hair, but then show him super bald later on, showing that the stress of it all had really taken a toll on him, despite his seemingly great life.

Well, then, the Joker has Charlie fly over to Gotham just to open a door for Harley. Yeah. Open a door. I friggin’ love this twist. He’s like an Alice In Wonderland character, having seemingly no rhyme or reason for anything, but you know it all somehow makes sense in his twisted head. We know this because of what he manages to pull off, and how dangerous he is. If he truly knew nothing, he wouldn’t escape Arkham time and time again or get away with nearly as much as he does. And then finally at the end, we have some moments of scary Joker-rage paired with the Joker actually yelling to Batman for help. It’s such a sudden mood change, and you have to question whether or not the Joker’s anger was real. If it is, that makes it scarier. He’s like a meth-addict. We also see the Joker shove Harley Quinn to the side so that he can get to the phone, a very early look at the abusive relationship that we don’t see in full until later down the line. Like I said earlier, Harley was supposed to be a one-off, so this likely wasn’t Dini’s intent to display, but in hindsight, it’s got a much different light casted on it. It shows how much care was put into these stories, making everything match up, even if it wasn’t the initial plan.

This opening shot looked pretty stilted, reminding us that it’s essentially a cell being moved to the right.

Our main character, Charlie Collins. I wanna know what kind of fashion statement that haircut is. The “vertical rat tail”?

That moment of realization. Great job of capturing that immediate regret. It’s like he was brought back to reality, but sent into the Twilight Zone all at the same time.

The Joker knows how scary he is.

This shot was kinda funky with how bright some of the Joker’s features were.

The Joker appears rather large when in comparison to the character who is supposed to be in front of him. This happens at least one other time in the episode. It adds to his threatening aura here, though.

“Oh please, don’t insult me.” the Joke retorts when Charlie assumes that he’s being robbed of money.

Been missing these guys! Haven’t seen enough of them!

Jim: “If anyone should be getting a testimonial it’s you!” Batman: “I’m just the nightshift. You deal with this mess 24 hours a day. That’s what those people want to honor.” The most endearing friendship on the show. He even then proceeds to ask Batman where he can rent a tux.

The Joker playing darts backwards. Throwing them at the commissioner.

Harley Quinn’s first appearance ever! Bruce Timm did an excellent job with her design. Also, another instance of Joker looking rather large. Apparently perspective isn’t Dong Yang’s strong suit.

And then the Joker proceeds to do a perfect backflip. Damn, he’s limber!

Me too, dude. Also the Joker was throwing darts right above this guy’s head.

Somehow a better license picture than any I’ve ever gotten. Also we have confirmation that, in the DCAU at least, Gotham City is in New York.

“Leave the sideburns.”

An unsettling shot as they circle around Don’s (Charlie’s) block, threatening his family.

“Any way I could sneak out with you?” Me too, dude. Lines like this add so much character that gimmicks or statements about them could never reach.

“Sir, I believe you may be needed inside.”

Bullock hitting on Harley. How does he look like even more of a sleaze when spiffed up for an event?

Montoya’s look of pleasure when Bullock gets whacked in the shin by Harley’s baton. Also, them cheekbones.

“...okayyy, we’ll tough it out here.”

Joker’s sudden mood-swings combined with his delivery from Mark Hamill are obvious callbacks to the Blue Meanies in Yellow Submarine.

Charlie, about to shove a bomb up Joker’s ass. “Batman! Batmaaaaan!” Actually, y’know what this reminds me of?

This great moment.

Joker, relieved to see Batman. “<gasp> How long have you been there?” We also get, “You’re no fun anymore, Charlie.” If there’s one thing Joker can’t stand, it’s getting upstaged when it comes to the crazy.

A solid episode for sure, but for those of you who only know about Harley from her more recent shenanigans (and you don’t have a genuine interest in watching a Batman cartoon), check out The Laughing Fish instead. And for those of you following along with me for the long haul, join us next time! …Crikey!

Char’s grade: B

Next time: Vendetta Full episode list here!

#harley quinn #joker #dc animated universe #batman tas #joker's favor #jokers favor #batman the animated series #the joker #batman #dcau

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