#and then keep maybe 20% and put the rest towards your fucking citizens

[ligbi]

is anyone else in a field that feels like climbing up a falling ladder?

went to school for MIS (computer science but less programming more business) graduated 14. First job 15-18, another 19-20, and then 21-23. every time I job hunt I see positions that I had seen before but the amount they offer seems so much lower than they had offered? sysadmin seems like a position I could have sword was averaging 120k/year in 18, and now I'm seeing a listing for not even 60k.

I know every job is working their employees to the bone for as little as they can get away with while the world burns down but god you do everything right- go to school, go local to keep loans low, get a degree in something that can pay you instead of something you like- and you still get screwed

we need universal healthcare, ubi, and a fix to the housing crisis, as well as making all jobs 30hours 1.5x for any hours post that, and capping maximum pay (15x the lowest paid employee's salary is extremely generous. 30k for employees? You still get almost half a mil a year you greedy fucks)

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 272: (Directed by Michael Bay)

Previously on BnHA: The My Child Soldiers Academia arc finally started to live up to its name as Tokoyami became the first (but I assure you not the last) victim of traumatic mental scarring courtesy of Horikoshi’s sick games! So he and Dark Shadow showed up to stop Dabi from murdering Hawks and were all “please don’t kill our mentor.” Dabi was all “AH BUT YOUR MENTOR KILLED SOMEONE ELSE, AND ISN’T THAT JUST LIKE THE HEROES THOUGH, THEIR HANDS ARE SO STAINED WITH BLOOD” and then he tried to set both of them on fire several times in succession. Hawks was all “Tokoyami just run away while he’s in the middle of his five-hour sermon” and so they tried but Dabi followed them! But then Geten was all “ALL RIGHT EVERYONE... CHILL” and fucking froze everything for no discernible reason, and Tokoyami fled the building with an unconscious Hawks in tow as the battle raged on. The chapter then ended with Gigantomachia being all “I smell my master!” and standing up, hahaha oh fuck.

Today on BnHA: Well you guys are not going to believe this, but it turns out that Tomura waking up is actually a very bad thing. A “worst case scenario” if you will! Because, get this, he has a quirk that can destroy anything, which spreads from whatever he touches to fucking everything and everywhere else. Gosh, if only we’d known about this since like 35 chapters ago. If only we’d had a spy among the villains who could have warned us, and three entire months to plan our attack, and literally every single hero in Japan on call to help us when the time came. Anyway so you’re really going to be shocked by this I’m telling you, but it turns out that when a crazy powerful person who wants to destroy everything finally wakes up, he immediately starts destroying everything with his crazy power. So X-Less dies and Crust dies and everyone else runs, and meanwhile the kids, who are on the outskirts of the city finishing up the evacuation, stand there in shock as the plot rampages toward them ready to swallow them whole. The chapter ends with Deku powering up to FORTY-FIVE PERCENT YEAHHHHH, and oh shit. Finally we’re doing this.

I am not even remotely done with all the shit I’m supposed to be finishing up, but fuck it, I need a break and reading the new chapter is by far the funnest thing on my current to-do list, so!

OH SNAPS MY BOY HAS FINALLY OPENED HIS EYES

IT ONLY TOOK HIM... OKAY LOOK I’M NOT GOING TO GO BACK AND COUNT ALL OF THE CHAPTERS, BUT LET’S SAY... FIFTEEN. ...HUNDRED. CHAPTERS TO FINALLY SNAP TO IT AND COME JOIN THE PARTY. BUT IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT! PROBABLY. AHH LET’S JUST READ ON

-- ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygodohm --

[puts on glasses and unfolds map while poring through a mess of scribbles on post-it notes] -- hold up, if my calculations are correct, I’m pretty sure “somewhere a bit further from the hospital” is, in fact, where a certain THREE TROUBLE-PRONE DISASTERS ARE CURRENTLY HOLED UP. AHHH

can it really be true. are we finally rejoining our protagonist and his buddy cop friends after 97 years. how will everyone react to Deku reacting to Tomura waking up ahhhh

so Burnin’ is yelling at the civilians to let them know if they have any family or friends who need assistance evacuating

god I hate the fact that this is a fucking understatement

they’re not taking any chances after Kamino and Fukuoka huh. fool them once, shame on you. fool them twice, oh shit. but there will not be a third time! no one fucking destroys three cities in the span of six months on their watch, no sirree

(ETA: ...)

lol the kids are trying to get the elderly citizens on a bus to evacuate, but a lady is trying to give them candy and Kacchan and Ochako are of two different minds on whether or not to accept

Kacchan is absolutely right about Ochako’s motivations, but in her defense, who the fuck turns down free chocolate

IIDA!!

FUCKING CHRIST JAPAN IT’S 200 YEARS IN THE FUTURE AND YOU STILL HAVEN’T SWITCHED TO DIGITAL RECORD-KEEPING? WHY IS THIS THE MOST REALISTIC THING IN THE ENTIRE MANGA TO DATE. MY GOOD SIR, IIDA IS LYING THROUGH HIS TEETH, ALL RECORDS AND BUILDINGS ABSOLUTELY CAN AND WILL BE COMPLETELY OBLITERATED IN THE CARNAGE TO COME. I’M SORRY TO BE THE ONE TO INFORM YOU OF THIS, BUT DAMN IT SOMEONE HAS TO TAKE RESPONSIBILITY

(ETA: I sure hope these poor bastards had good insurance.)

also. this man here who looks like Beaker from the Muppets, who presumably has the power of Doing Anything Those Wacky Flailing Inflatable Tube Men That You See Outside Of Car Dealerships Can Do. ...yes. that’s it. that’s an intentionally incomplete sentence with a subject but no predicate. I just feel like we should all sit and stare at him for a good thirty more seconds before continuing on with our lives

OH MY GOD

THEY’RE EVACUATING THE PETS TOO AHHHH. EXCUSE ME CERTAIN SOMEONES WHO THINK ALL HEROES ARE “DIRTY.” I SEE YOUR ARGUMENTS AND RAISE YOU THIS ONE SINGLE PANEL. YEAH THAT’S RIGHT. NOW WHAT DABI. AT A LOSS FOR WORDS I SEE. YOU JUST SIT AND PONDER THAT FOR A WHILE

is... this... a space shuttle man

is this literally just a man with a Boeing for a head. FUCKING QUIRKS THOUGH!!!!! ~*~wild~*~

OH MY GOD AND WE’RE BACK

time for some HORCRUX SHENANIGANS!! IS YOUR LIGHTNING BOLT SCAR BURNING DEKU. I CAN’T BELIEVE HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED IS BACK AHHHH

so now he’s slightly hunching forward with his hands pressed together and Todoroki is immediately sensing that something is wrong ahhhhh

(ETA from like 5 days later: I had that as “Tokoyami” instead of “Todoroki” for the better part of a solid week you guys. SHOUTO YOU WERE GONE FOR SO LONG I FORGOT YOUR FUCKING NAME whoop.)

here come dat angst. here comes Horikoshi’s hand beckoning the trio closer and welcoming them to the pain parade ahhh. from now on that’s how I’m ending all my sentences btw. it just seems right. ahhh

OH MY LORD OH MY

ladies and gentlemen, YOU WERE SAYING DEKU DIDN’T HAVE ENOUGH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT LATELY? HE’S NOT INTERESTING ENOUGH AS A PROTAGONIST, IS HE? well maybe that’s because Horikoshi has been saving this one juiciest of plot nuggets for a rainy day precisely like this! BRING ON THAT CHOSEN ONE ANGST AHHHHH

anyway so yes it is indeed OFA speaking to him in the form of Lil Bro a.k.a. the first user

lol I’m trying to think of commentary but it’s difficult seeing as I’M ALREADY SCROLLING DOWN TO IMPATIENTLY READ THE NEXT PAGE

lmao the fuck

okay Princess Zelda. can you get any more flowery with those descriptions though. A TRANSCENDENT BEING. A SUPERLATIVE ENTITY. A SUBLIME, PREEMINENT ORGANISM. FREED FROM ITS SHACKLES. UNFETTERED BY ALL EARTHLY LIMITATIONS

OH MY GOD

it absolutely boggles my mind that this guy is somehow still alive. ??! how many chapters and panels has it been now. he’s like the goat in the t-rex pen in fucking Jurassic Park. WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GET EATEN ALREADY

...

do you... want a blanket. ...?

(ETA: do you ever just. wake up and you’re like “ah shit it’s cold”, and then you destroy an entire city. mm.)

do you all suppose X-Less is fully aware that he’s about to die though? he hasn’t even moved. I imagine that sitting next to Tomura actually is much like sitting next to a giant t-rex. like he has to know there is no getting out of this alive. poor guy

damn Mic isn’t even looking back he’s just running back into the main room where all the rest of them are

wow this fight is still going on

I don’t know why, I just expected it to all magically be over all of a sudden now that we have bigger things to worry about. do you guys remember when we were all worried about the High End Noumus being the biggest threat. hahahahaha

(ETA: moment of silence for ALL OF THE FUCKING HIGH ENDS lmao. that did not go how I expected that plotline to go AT ALL, but at least we got the best fucking battle in the entire manga out of it.)

jesus CHRIST ENOUGH WITH THIS

WE GET IT TOMURA IS DANGEROUS AND SCARY AND EVIL AND AWAKE!!! JUST PLEASE GET TO IT ALREADY GOD I’M BEGGING YOU

FINALLY

goddammit. my reaction to this should have been much more “!!!” and “OH SHIT”, but he dragged it out so much that my initial reaction was one more of relief than horror. maybe it’s because of the way I read the chapters, constantly pausing to do commentary as I go along, but whenever a chapter has a ton of panels of people just staring into the distance awash with dread, it really stands out to me lol. there’s only so much I can write about that kind of thing. ah well at least we’re finally getting to the action

I genuinely can’t tell if Ujiko is frightened that he’s about to be disintegrated by Tomura’s quirk, or excited that Tomura is awake

maybe both lol. well don’t worry you’re not gonna die that easily, much as you would not catch me complaining if you did

thanks Gran

lol where was all this speed throughout the rest of this arc though. “we’re only competent when the plot necessitates it” huh. is that right

oh shit it’s destroying the rest of the lab

those are all of Ujiko’s collected quirks, right? someone please tell me if this is a good or a bad thing. on the one hand if they’re all destroyed it means Tomura can’t get them and Ujiko can’t make any more Noumus. but on the other hand this means they won’t ever be able to give them back to the original users (if any of them are even still alive). and also that’s a lot of evidence that’s being wiped out as well

oh shit they didn’t know about this?!

even after Deika City, you didn’t put two and two together?? even with all of Hawk’s intel?? what the hell did you think happened there?

well this explains why everyone was so la-dee-da-no-rush about capturing him though. well that’s on you guys. next time maybe don’t waste 20 minutes uselessly battling redshirt Noumus while Mirko has to do everything herself

anyway so I feel like people other than X-Less are almost certainly going to die here, and fuck. I’m not ready for any of this

AHH THE KIDS

BIT SLOW ON THE UPTAKE THERE KACCHAN LOL. FOR A MOMENT YOU HAD ME WORRIED THERE WAS SOMEHOW A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THREAT APPROACHING FROM THE OTHER SIDE, BEFORE YOU TURNED AROUND TO LOOK WHERE THE OTHERS WERE LOOKING

ALSO JUST A FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT SHOUTO’S DAD IS IN THAT HOSPITAL, ALONG WITH THEIR TEACHER! HERE. COME. DAT. ANGST

LOOK AT THIS CONSPICUOUSLY INTACT BUILDING AS IT STANDS THERE ALL OMINOUSLY WITH THE NEARBY BIRDS AND CRITTERS FRANTICALLY FLYING AWAY

I want to see it crumble so bad. now this is the kind of foreboding cinematic disaster movie bullshit I can get into

FFFF WHY IS THIS PANEL SO HARD TO SEE

THERE’S TOO MUCH CHAOS AND TOO MANY PEOPLE LOST AMIDST ALL THESE SHATTERING AND FALLING TUBES, BUT I NEED TO MAKE SURE EVERYONE IS SAFE AHHH

...okay so I see Ryuukyuu in the top right, and I think that’s RockLockRock on her back. Thirteen is clearly there in the bottom center, but I don’t know who that is next to them. and then of course Gran and Mic on the left. and a bunch of others spread out in various other places, but... where the hell is Aizawa??

OH THANK GOD

FUCK YOU HORIKOSHI, I KNOW FULL WELL YOU’RE NOT JUST GOING TO KILL OFF THE WORLD’S PREEMINENT DAD STRAIGHT UP OUT OF THE BLUE HERE, AND YET I STILL FELT ANXIETY AT THIS LAST PANEL. HOW DID YOU EVEN

BITCH YOU BETTER LET THE FUCK GO BEFORE I --

!!!

oh my god I gasped in real life. stop making me fear for the lives of main characters!!

he. he --. crust. he. ...

I literally stopped reading and had to stop and cover my mouth with both of my hands I’m

silence. no screaming. no flailing. no freaking out. just silence

shit. rest in peace you old sedimentary bastard. respect to you for saving the father of my children in your last fleeting moments. I still have not the slightest idea how you rose through the ranks to somehow become the sixth fucking highest rated hero (HERO BILLBOARD CHART, IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT. ARE YOU FEELING OKAY), but you sure did go out with style though

also this may be tacky of me to point out during such an emotionally charged moment, but one second Aizawa is wearing his goggles like normal, and the next they’re suddenly pushed up onto his forehead so we can see the anguish in his bloodshot eyes. there was no reason to do that other than angst and we all know it. so yes Shouta you dramatic bitch, I am calling you out. why Horikoshi felt he had to add to your many accumulated traumas is beyond me. you don’t deserve this and I am so, so sorry

OH GOOD I WAS JUST ABOUT TO ASK WHERE THE FUCK ENDEAVOR WAS

seeing as we just went over this with Gran, I will take the high road here and won’t ask why you’re only this fast now and couldn’t have been this useful this ages ago back before Tomura woke up. oh wait does sarcastically saying I won’t bring it up count as bringing it up. well whatever. middle road, then

sob I’m getting flashbacks to the end of Return of the Jedi when they’re all frantically flying out of the Death Star as it explodes

friendly reminder that Ryuukyuu, clearly the fastest one here despite carrying like 20 people, was number 10 in the rankings for some unknown reason. again, r.i.p. Crust you well-meaning geriatric soul

also just a stray thought, I hope it’s clear now why it was so important to give Deku those additional quirks. at a minimum he needs Blackwhip and Float just so he doesn’t instantly die the moment he’s in Tomura’s general vicinity. sob I’ve joked so much about flying quirks and here they are becoming fucking prerequisites now

anyway so Ujiko is mourning the loss of his lab, which again, good riddance mostly. but r.i.p. that evidence though

(ETA: nah the “total loss” part is referring to how the heroes fucked up so soundly and thoroughly. anyway no one would blame Mic if he accidentally dropped Ujiko in the midst of all this chaos, I’m just saying. I guess they need any intel he could still provide now more than ever though.)

OH MY GOD!!

LAUNDRY HERO WASH?! THIS SUDSY BOI CAN ACTUALLY KICK ASS WHAAAAT

oh my god oh my god it’s still spreading??!

fuck fuck fuck at this rate it’ll reach the kids

(ETA: that happened really fast actually.)

-- oh FUCK NO you had better NOT FUCKING TOUCH FUCKING PIXIE BOB, I WILL MAIL MYSELF TO JAPAN PANDEMIC OR NO PANDEMIC. DO YOU NOT SEE THE SIGN THAT SAYS “OFF-LIMITS.” RESPECT THE SIGN

SOB SHE’S SO BADASS BUT IT LOOKS LIKE IT’S STILL DISINTEGRATING FUCCCCCK. FUCK MY LIFE, FUCK EVERYTHING

AHHHHH

I can’t tell if her earthbending was able to stop it or not?? god help us all if it didn’t, I’m not even sure what else could stop it at this point

SHUT UP UJIKO!!

they really did. only to fuck it up completely at the finish line. well, the man most singularly responsible for it is dead now, again r.i.p. Crust you useless old legend

lmao despite myself

“by a miracle, or maybe through sheer will” even he acknowledges that Tomura waking up was basically complete bullshit. yes blah blah yadda yadda got zapped by some exposed wires explanation science. because we all know that getting electrocuted will fix you right up when your heart has stopped and you have completely flatlined. you can definitely trust Horikoshi on this and there’s absolutely no need to google how defibrillators actually work

also is he somehow wearing a cape now. again by a miracle or maybe through sheer will

YESSSSSSS

(ETA: one has to wonder what Ujiko’s plan was, assuming this scheme had actually played out. were they just banking on Tomura not waking up cranky and disoriented and wanting to test out his power. his quirk doesn’t exactly distinguish friend from foe here I’m just saying.)

the part of me that goes all “ooh ahh” when all the buildings explode in Independence Day is singing inside. but never fear, the rest of me is appropriately horrified though. what was that Burnin’ was saying about the city becoming a large-scale battle zone? sob

also this page sure serves as a nice refresher for exactly why Tomura Waking Up Was Bad, which was inexplicably a topic of some debate in recent weeks. yes in spite of everything the villains are still the bad guys who’d have thought. almost as if the purpose of humanizing a character is to show that they’re human, not that they’re right

WHAT’S THIS NOW???

WELL I’LL BE. IT’S BEEN AN EVENTFUL THREE MONTHS, APPARENTLY!??

HOOAHHHHHHHH

IT’S A BIRD IT’S A PLANE IT’S A BADASS OH SHIIIIITTTTTT

finally finally finally!!!!!!

THE SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN, REPEAT, THE SHIT HAS HIT THE PROVERBIAL FAN. THE PLOT IS FINALLY HAPPENING, REPEAT, THE PLOT IS FINALLY FUCKING HAPPENING AHHHHHH

and there is no one coming to save them this time. no one to arrive at the last second and say “it’s all right now because I am here.” they have to save themselves. they have to save everyone. the training wheels are finally coming off. the safety net has been removed. after 272 chapters, the story has finally reached a point where these kids, these children, who in spite of all they’ve been through have been protected and shielded from the worst of it up till now, will finally have to be the ones to save the day all on their own

and they are not ready. but also maybe they kind of are??! but they definitely are not. and oh god oh god oh god, FINALLY WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS. TIME TO FIX THE MESS THOSE SILLY GROWN-UPS MADE, CHILDREN. YOU GOT THIS

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

New York Minute PT. 1

anonymous said: I saw you say your requests are open (but your bio doesn’t say they are so I totally understand if I misunderstood and I apologize). I was wondering if you could do a ben hardy imagine where the reader and he aren’t together but he gets jealous about one of the other boys (and realizes his feelings) and the rest is up to you ;) thank you! and anonymous said: Ooh could you do an age gap thing with either roger or ben of like roger being in the early 1980s and reader/oc being in their early 20s and Ben being the age he is now with someone in their early 20s??  

(a/n: this will be a multi-part series!!!! i just had too many ideas for these requests and had to go crazy - sorry i’ve been so inactive lately yall i promise i’ll try to post more now that the summer is winding down. i should have part two out in the next week or so??? anyways this one’s a thickie tbh (like.... almost 10k) so buckle up!!!)

"Ben's moving here? He that blond bitch in all your posts?"  You were draped across Joe's couch, feet resting on his left thigh as you popped another berry into your mouth, humming happily as you chewed. Joe's eyes were slightly glazed over, still focused on the TV that was playing some baseball game as you studied his face, watching the way his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip before he afforded you a quick glance. "Yeah. Real 'lad' type, Gwilym's words. Kid's a textbook definition of a ladies man when he wants to be."   "Kid? How old is he?" you asked curiously, quirking an eyebrow at your rather indisposed neighbor. His fingers tapped at the armrest to his right, and you scowled a bit at his apparent disinterest in your questions. He was always a baseball guy, but you couldn't believe how distracted he could become by a single game. You were less than a couple feet away, and it was like you were speaking into the void. "I thought he was like 30."

"28," Joe corrected, still not taking his eyes off of the TV.  You huffed at that. 28 was still a good half a decade older than you, and here Joe was calling him a kid. "If he's a kid, then I'm baby." "What? What does that.... why do you always say that?" he asked, finally looking at you with a questioning look that seemed more pained than anything else. "I'm baby? What does that mean?" "It means.... I don't know how to explain it, Joey, I'm baby!" you exclaimed, throwing up your arms in defeat before letting them fall back down limply. "Anyways, you said he's a ladies man? Is he gonna put the moves on me?" Joe snorted at that, returning his gaze to the TV as you sat the plate back on the coffee table, waiting patiently for his answer. "Maybe. Like I said, he's a ladies man when he wants to be." "Wants to be? What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, suddenly wanting to clarify the discrepancy. Sitting up a bit, you pulled your feet off his lap and instead hugged your knees to your chest, staring across the couch at Joe, who was slightly slack-jawed and way too interested in the current play to answer. Clearing your throat, you spoke louder, commanding his attention. "Joe!" "Huh?" he asked, turning his head slowly over to you and following with his eyes a few moments later. Slowly, recognition registered on his face and he pulled his jaw closed, swallowing hard before he answered. "I mean he's a smooth talker, but he also gets all messy when he fumbles." "You get messy when you fumble during flirting," you pointed out, and Joe furrowed his eyebrows before sneering a bit, mocking your words under his breath. "You do! Remember that blonde at Feinstein's-" "Yes! I remember the blonde at 54 Below, okay? Let it go," he rushed out all in one go, his face a bit red as he closed his eyes and tried to push his memory of the wine-soaked night to the back of his mind. "And for the record, she did end up coming back to my apartment later." "I'm just saying." Holding your hands up in surrender for a moment, you made a show of letting it go before hugging your legs again, hiding your amused smile behind your knee. Joe's glare was almost burning, his narrowed eyes only making your smile harder to hide. It had been over two years since you moved in next to this dumbass, and you still hadn't learned a single thing about controlling your facial expressions from a well-seasoned actor like him. Finally, Joe sighed and shook his head, deciding to pick his battles wisely. "Anyways, he'll be here next week. Are you free Thursday? We're going out with Chace." "Chace?" you repeated, humming nervously before shaking your head. "No go. Chace still probably thinks I'm a moron from the time I thought he was you on the balcony so I came out and did jumper cables on his side and found out - surprise, surprise - it was not you." "That was like, two years ago. How do you still even remember that?" he laughed, turning his attention back to the screen. "I can't even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday. Chace probably forgot all about it." "It was mortifying, Joe! Imagine some random chick just walking out on your friend's balcony and jabbing your sides with the force of a great typhoon." Pursing his lips, he considered it for a moment before grimacing. "Yeah, no, that's pretty fucking weird." It fell silent, Joe focusing on the game while you watched him once again, back to square one. Finally, you spoke to cut off the silence, wanting to make one last comment before you let him get too invested. "Ben's kinda cute. Is he single?" "Dunno," Joe answered noncommittally, making you frown as you stretched your legs out again, intentionally kicking his thigh lightly. "Ow!" Scowling at you, he reached out to smack your foot away before he crossed his arms, snuggling more into his armrest and fighting back a laugh. "I think he is. Know he has that bee dating app. Buzz....le. Bumblebee?" "Bumble," you snickered, nudging his leg again teasingly and making him fake scowl a bit more before he laughed once at himself, shielding his face from your gaze with one hand. "Stop, I know I'm a terrible millennial! I've got to start keeping up with this shit." "As a fellow millennial - you right."

---

"First night out as an American citizen! How was it, bud?" "Dual citizen, thank you! You'd think as a dual citizen, you'd know what the hell to say," Ben corrected, his cheeks a deep red from the liquor coursing through his veins and muddling his thoughts. Closing his eyes for a moment, he leaned against the wall next to Joe's door as Joe fished through his pockets, grabbing the key chain with the worn-down Yankees mini-bat and picking out the key that read 'APT' on some painter's tape. You'd dubbed it so once Joe had forgotten which key it was for the fortieth time when you came over to help him patch a hole left in the wall by the previous renter. Ben just assumed the label was Joe's handiwork. It looked dorky enough. Sliding the key into the lock, he easily turned it and swung open the door a little too drunkenly, leading his equally-as-drunk friend into the living room. "You're American when you're here, okay? I'm requiring it by law, starting.... now!" Ben laughed, trudging his way into the apartment before heading down the hallway towards the bathroom and rubbing the side of his face, the skin hot to the touch. "M'not sure it works like that, but whatever. I gotta take a leak." Before Joe could yell out a half-assed reply after him, Ben had already disappeared into the room down the hall and to the left, only re-emerging minutes later and wiping his still-damp hands on his jeans while sending Joe a look that said everything about the glaringly empty towel ring, even without even saying a word. "Sorry! Laundry day, dude... I gotta piss." "I'm gonna have a smoke, then," Ben mumbled as Joe passed him in the hallway, transferring a slightly bent cigarette from the crumpled package in his pocket to his mouth as he made his way to the sliding doors that led out to Joe's balcony. The lock refused to budge at first, but it slowly slid out of place with a bit of extra effort from Ben and clicked up into an unlocked position before he moved to tug the door open. The door slid open a lot easier than the lock did, smoothly gliding over and letting in the pleasant, if a bit warm midnight breeze on the late spring day. It smelled vaguely of rain, and Ben wondered if it was going to storm later, a sardonic chuckle leaving his lips as he eyed the dark clouds hovering over the harbor. The moon peeked just under the bottom of one, teasing the city with a light that wouldn't last long. "Get a place in America to escape the rain and end up in a thunderstorm. Alright," he remarked to himself, flicking the lighter a few times before raising it to the cigarette end and lighting it. He inhaled slowly as he did so, feeling the familiar light burn of the tar smoke filling his lungs - it didn't taste as well as it once did, but it filled a space for the time being, and distracted him enough. In fact, it distracted him so well that he went on smoking for a good minute or so before he realized that there was another human being on the extended balcony with him. Their arm was dangling over the edge of the reclining lawn chair, which was conveniently placed next to a crate that featured a phone on a wireless charger and a half-drank bottle of Apothic Crush in a cheap wine chiller. Just a single bottle, sans a glass, a red that looked as though it tasted of relatively inexpensive inebriation and drunk texts to your best friend about how you were crying over Keanu Reeves. It was you, though he obviously wouldn't know that. Ben's usually warm green eyes widened in fear as he spotted your unfamiliar figure lazily draped over the fully reclined chair, your mouth hanging open slightly as you dozed away peacefully just out of reach of the rays of moonlight. You were wearing a familiar shirt, though - one for a baseball team Ben only faintly recognized because Joe had mentioned his brother being on that team. A faded 'Mazzello' was printed on the back, the end part visible to Ben as he peered curiously over at you, trying to figure out what in the hell his plan of attack was here. He had a predicament. There was a half finished cigarette in his hand, one that couldn't go back inside with him but also one that he didn't particularly want to drop from several stories up with this many people passing by below. And he sure as hell didn't want to waste the cigarette, so stomping it out was a no-go. But there was a literal stranger on Joe's balcony, drinking what was probably his wine and wearing his shirt, and in his inebriated panic over your presence, Ben conveniently skimmed over the full view he had of the door that led into your apartment. It was a shared balcony, a nice fact that Joe could have shared with his friend before he got 5 frantic texts and a picture of sleeping you in rapid succession. Benjamin: HOLY FUCJ Benjamin: Joe, getout here right now!!! Theres a literal stranger on your balcony! Benjamin: JOE Benjamin: [picture] Benjamin: WHY IN THE BBLOODY HELL IS THERE A STRANGE WOMAN It was less than 30 seconds before Joe came stumbling out, Ben staring at him helplessly as he held the cigarette just over the railing, nodding to your side. Peeking his head around the doorway, Joe managed to keep an even expression on his face as he cleared his throat, stepping out onto the balcony between you and Ben. "Hey!" You stirred a bit at Joe's aggressive tone, your lips smacking together as you ran your tongue over them and peeked open an eye just barely, indicating you were listening. "This is like the fifth time this week, lady, stop getting drunk on my porch and using my reclining chair!" "My reclining chair," you corrected, groggily raising to a sitting position and running a hand over your hair to smooth it down before looking down at the wooden crate and smiling sleepily upon remembering the wine. "Oh yeah. Mmmmm. Forgot about that." "Pfffft. Drunks, am I right?" Joe scoffed, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at you when he turned to face Ben. His hand came to rest on his hip that jutted out with a bit of sass as Ben stared at him in complete confusion, utterly baffled at how calm and collected he was despite the apparent situation.  "Who are you calling a drunk, you drunk?" you giggled quietly, letting your head fall back against the chair as you eyed the back of Joe's head with an unreadable look. Joe rolled his eyes like it was obvious, not even turning to face you as he made an exaggerated annoyed expression at Ben, then proceeded to ignore your question. "I get these all the time, dude, crazy bums just taking up my space out here." "Why do you keep acting like I'm a homeless person bumming on your shit- No, nevermind, fuck you. I'm ignoring you now," you retorted, yawning as you reached for the wine bottle and pointing to the ground between you and Joe with your free hand as you narrowed your eyes. Ben's eyes followed your direction to a line of duct tape on the concrete below, clearly meant to demarcate something, though he wasn't sure what. It was crudely placed, but seemed to have an enormous effect on Joe when he looked over his shoulder and groaned, letting his head roll back for a second before he gave the wall opposite you a withering look. "Are we seriously still fucking doing this?" Joe remarked scornfully while he turned, his hands going into his pockets, and he slumped over a bit in stature as a pout etched itself into his features. "I said I was sorry. I was asleep! Also, is that my shirt? You said you'd bring that back weeks ago." You remained silent, staring up at Joe through your lashes in an unmoved manner before taking a drink of the wine. As you returned the bottle to the chiller, your attention switched over to Ben, who was still standing there in absolutely dumbfounded astonishment. A wondrous smile made its way to your lips, and Ben felt a light blush creeping onto his already-red cheeks as he dropped the cigarette to the concrete balcony floor, stomping it out gently and trying not to shrivel underneath your delightfully bleary, sleepy gaze. It was odd, being so affected by you. Ben usually had a relatively charming, laidback personality, and he was easy to get along with, but something about you sent him into a panic as he kept eye contact for a painful second or two, the sparkle in your hazy eyes enchanting to him. Maybe it was the liquor. Yeah, definitely had to be the liquor, he decided. There was no way that this dizziness was anything but top shelf gin having a row in his digestive system. His eyes dropped to the ground, seeming hyperfocused on his own actions, but it was blatantly obvious he was avoiding eye contact now. Noting the blush, your smile grew even wider as you sat up a bit, suddenly interested in the flustered man across from you. He looked quite familiar, and you were amused that he was so unsettled and shy right now - he didn't seem to be like the type who couldn't talk in front of girls. He must have just been caught off-guard today. "You're Ben, from the Queen thingie! Ah, I'm so glad I finally get to meet you, y'all are so cute on Instagram." Climbing up from your chair, you swayed a bit at the sudden rush of blood to your extremities, reaching out to steady yourself on Joe and grinning sheepishly. Then your gaze shifted once again to your neighbor, your eyebrow cocking slightly in challenge, and Ben let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as you mumbled, "Never puts me on his Instagram like that. You'd think after two years-" "I've told you a million times, I can't let you steal the spotlight from me!" Joe teased back, crossing the duct tape line and dropping into the chair that sat just over the boundary of it, next to your reclining chair, his hand easily snatching the wine from the chiller before he took a long swig. "And besides," he added, his arm coming up to swipe a bit of excess wine that had dribbled out of the corner of his mouth. It looked like watery bloody slipping down his chin, and he quickly wiped it away before reaching over the wipe it on your leg, much to your chagrin. But he retracted his arm before you could reach out and swat at him, instead leaving you with a mildly grumpy expression while he grinned impishly. "Ben wouldn't like sharing his primetime spot." "Ben can share. I'm low maintenance anyways, I only need, like... one feature a month. I'll even settle for just a story shout-out." "Low maintenance? Says the one who has to have Sugar In The Raw or she won't drink her coffee!" "Says the one who now steals my Sugar In The Raw because he knows it tastes better! Fuckin' leech." This dynamic was weird, Ben had decided. No explanation left him hopelessly in the dark as he watched Joe hand off the wine casually to you when you reached out for it, a wordless exchange that didn't even need to really be prompted in order to happen. It made Ben wonder if he'd somehow been ignorant of Joe having a girlfriend until just now. A very attractive girlfriend, at that, despite the mussy, sleep-wrinkled state of you and your clothes. A mouthy girlfriend that was easily out-sassing Joe - a girlfriend that slept on his balcony? This wasn't adding up. "You look confused," you hiccuped, narrowing your eyes a bit as you scrutinized the charmingly quiet blond that stood about five feet from you, still awkwardly stanced up near the railing on Joe's side. A deft observation, too, because Ben's facial expression read like a book, highlighting all of the absolutely baffling thoughts he was having. Suddenly, it clicked. "Joe, you dumbass, did you not tell him we share a balcony?" "It may have.... slipped the mind," Joe admitted, smiling sheepishly as he shrugged and tapped on the armrests of the chair he was in. "Ben, this is my neighbor. She's annoying as hell, trust me. Still holds a grudge from when I napped on her chair at least two years ago and pretended to be asleep when she came out here and yelled so I wouldn't have to move." "And he thinks I'm the bad neighbor," you giggled, rolling your eyes before stepping forward to reach out your hand and offer your name, swaying a bit from the effort. Looking at the three of you from an outsider's position, it was getting hard to tell who was the most sloshed. "It's nice to finally meet you, I've only seen his dumb videos that he sent back from England and posted on Instagram every once in a while." "Oh my god, I'm proper fucked, you both had me there for a second," Ben admitted in relief, laughing a bit as his panic ebbed away into amusement at the mild freak-out moment he'd just had. Taking your hand, he flashed an embarrassed smile and shook your hand gently, letting it go after a moment and immediately flexing his fingers a bit, noting how cold your hand had been from the wine. It was an odd sensation, one that sent a tingle down his spine upon contact, but he did his best to ignore it and put on his best smile before continuing. "It's nice to meet you too. Just glad I didn't call 999 on you." Your nose wrinkled at the discrepancy as you sat back down in your reclining chair, Joe immediately catching it and raising a finger to correct his friend. "It's 911 over here, buddy. Don't worry, you'll get used to it." "Oh yeah! Joe said you're moving over here, welcome to the States!" Laughing lightly, Ben rubbed the back of his neck slowly, then nodded in acknowledgement of your words. "Have you settled in yet, or are you still unpacking?" "Still unpacking," Ben grimaced, making you pout a bit in sympathy as you clutched the shirt that rested directly over your heart, signaling you understood his pain even in your drunken state. "But I should be done getting all my stuff unboxed by tomorrow evening - Joe said he'd be coming over to help?" He tried to speak it as a statement, but the end came out as more of a question as he side-eyed Joe, who nodded in confirmation and pointed a finger gun at him, indicating he'd be there. "Now that you're here, does that mean I'll finally see someone in Joe's apartment besides him?" you joked, Ben chuckling at how well you managed to casually roast Joe with every other word out of your mouth. Maybe the dynamic wasn't so weird after all, he figured. Maybe it was fun. "You telling me that this guy over here doesn't even bring home girls from the bar?" Ben asked curiously, nodding to Joe. He finally took the opportunity to drag a chair from the far end of the balcony over to join the two of you, accepting the wine gratefully when you held it out for him. Joe let out a humorless laugh as you burst into a fit of gleeful giggles, reaching over to smack Joe on the thigh several times in amusement. A small smile played at the corner of Joe's lips, and he glanced at you before shaking his head, his eyelids fluttering closed a bit, heavy from the alcohol. "I tried that once! I'd never seen a woman throw a full wine glass at me until that day! Genius here," he paused, pointing to you with his thumb and ignoring the ensuing peal of laughter that had you doubled over, "popped over in some underwear and a t-shirt to ask where I kept the eggs! She was making cookies! Can you believe that?" Ben shifted his gaze over to you for confirmation and found you to still be doubled over in silent laughter, shoulders shaking with the effort of holding it in. A wide grin spread across Ben's face, and he looked back to find Joe trying to look annoyed, but failing miserably and bursting into laughter with you. "What was her name again?" you asked between peals of laughter, wiping at your watery eyes as Joe tried to stifle his laughter, resting his head on his hand and sighing. "It was Tori, I think," he replied, shaking his head and smiling a bit. "Art history major. You fucked that one up for me majorly." "Well, you got me back the next week anyways," you finally got out when your laughter had subsided, a grin still quirking at the corner of your lips as you looked at Ben and continued. "Knew I had a Tinder date one night and literally waited in my living room in boxers for hours until we got back!" "Joe, that's almost cruel," Ben scolded jokingly, reaching over and giving Joe a gentle punch on the arm before handing the wine back to you. "You're telling me," you mused, a sly smile gracing your lips as you looked from Joe to Ben, your gaze lingering a bit on the blonde. Ben met the stare evenly, his face a lot more level than he felt as you rose from your chair, brushing a hand down your torso to smooth out the frumpy shirt before walking over to the railing and leaning forward against it. Your stomach pressed into the cool metal through the thin Mazzello shirt that denied you any curves, giving you a boxy frame only marginally saved by the corner of the shirt that had got caught in the waistband of your shorts. "Well, feel like I've overstayed my welcome, so I'll probably head in for the night," you stated, looking out to the moon that was slowly disappearing over the harbor before you turned to face the two of them, giving them a sleepy smile. "No, stay out here with us," Joe complained, patting the reclining chair, but you were already making your way past the chair, taking another drink of the wine. "I want you to bond with Ben, he'll be over here a lot now that he's in NYC." "I will? Jake Gyllenhaal lives here too, is he over here all the time because of that?" Ben teased, looking up at you with a dopey grin when you let out a single laugh. Stopping just behind the chair, you raised an impressed eyebrow at him while Joe studied the two of you with a mildly annoyed glare. He didn't appreciate being teamed up on, but he had to appreciate the two of you getting along on your first meeting. You, however, were completely ignorant to your neighbor's pointed looks as you kept eye contact with Ben, noting that he had gorgeous green eyes. "I like this guy. Bring him around again when I'm not sloshed, yeah?" Joe nodded at that, and you began to walk towards your door, yawning. "I've got a hot date tonight, so don't wait up for me, Joey." "God, I told you not to call me that," Joe groaned, but a boyish grin remained on his face as he watched you saunter back over to your door, wine in hand. "And who's the guy? Shouldn't have told me, now I might have to come crash your party." "His name is Mattress, Matt for short. We sleep with each other a lot... Nice meeting you, Ben." Swirling the bottle around a few times, you wiggled your eyebrows at the two men before retreating to the sound of Joe's exaggerated groaning and Ben's hapless attempts at reciprocation of your pleasantries, your door sliding shut just before you drew the curtains.  That left the duo alone on the balcony, the faint smell of smoke still lingering in the space around them as Joe sighed a bit, grinning and shaking his head. Ben, on the other hand, was still reeling from the whiplash that the last few moments had given him, and it must have clearly registered on his face, because Joe laughed a bit as he stood, brushing off his pants. "Sorry I didn't warn you beforehand. Didn't think she'd be out here getting wine drunk. That's Y/N for you, though." A shrug coupled with his last observation made Ben chuckle, cocking his head slightly and curiously gazing over at your door before shaking his head. Following in a similar fashion to Joe, Ben rose to stand again, instinctively reaching for a comfort cigarette and placing it between his lips before offering a weak smile in return, fishing for the lighter while he spoke. "Wasted my first one." Inhaling slowly, the end of the cigarette finally lit and Ben held the smoke in for a moment before leaning over the railing, looking around as he exhaled. When he'd taken in a proper amount of the dwindling NYC night, he finally returned his attention to Joe, the cigarette resting delicately between two fingers as his hands came to rest on the railing he leaned back against. "Y/N, you said, yeah? Seems alright... you been neighbors for long?" "A couple years now, actually. Met her about the same way you just did! She's cool, though," Joe confirmed, coming over to look over the balcony right next to Ben, one foot on either side of the duct tape line that divided the floor. It was scuffed, like it'd been there a while, and that made the stories slowly check out in Ben's brain while he looked over to Joe, a sly smile slowly creeping onto his face.  "She's kinda fit, yeah?" Joe hung his head and let his eyes close for a moment, laughing at Ben's apt remark before nodding a bit. "But definitely seems a bit mean. Got a bite to her all the time?" "She's got her weak moments like everyone else! But yeah, she's definitely quick with the comebacks. I think I'm better for it, honestly, keeps me in check. Always brushing up on my wit, you know? Kids these days always keeping me on my toes." Reaching up to tap on his temple, he only had a moment to grimace before his phone was ringing, prompting him to pull it out of his pocket and answer it as Ben watched. "Hey, Seb... No, I didn't grab your wallet from the bar. Did you leave it there?" As Ben watched his friend retreat back into his own sliding door, his thick blond eyebrows furrowed in mild confusion. Kids these days? She couldn't be a day under 25, as clever as she was. Wait, that didn't even make sense. Cleverness is not an indicator- "Hey!" Ben jumped at the sound of your voice, whirling around to meet your accusatory stare as he looked on helplessly. You looked mad, and he couldn't even begin to think why. The cigarette, maybe, but you hadn't even flinched about it earlier. Was he too quiet? "Do you want the rest of this wine?" you asked, grinning once you'd let him suffer enough, and Ben let out a sigh of relief as he leaned forward on the railing again, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Christ, you scared me again!" Taking a deep breath, he laughed once before shaking his head, taking another drag and turning to face you. "No thank you, though. If I drink any more tonight, my old man body will punish me tomorrow." "Old man body?" you repeated, quirking an eyebrow in disbelief as you looked him up and down for a moment. "Uh huh... Good night, then." You shut the door before he could get the chance to reply, so he just gave a half-hearted wave before he widened his eyes, trying to restore his heart to a regular beating pace. "Jesus Christ on a cross," he mumbled, rubbing his hand over his face for a moment and messing up his eyebrows even more before he took another drag as he stared out at the last hint of the moon just before the clouds completely covered it up, plunging the city into a new darkness.

---

It was a bitch moving to a new country. The DMV, the bank, the moving companies - everything was a living nightmare, and Joe was the only thing getting Ben through it, on call at all times to help him with anything he needed to know. So when Ben texted him that he was frustrated about his internet connectivity ("It's fucking rubbish, seriously"), Joe offered a simple solution - come over and use his until the problem was resolved. And that's what he did after the gym, taking an Uber over to the now-familiar building and making his way to Joe's floor, which is how he walked in on Joe in the middle of an.... argument? Spat? Friendly fight? He wasn't sure how to place it as he entered his friend's apartment to the sound of you switching between laughing and shrieking while Joe made unintelligible noises of frustration. All Ben knew was that this was something beyond teasing - Joe honestly looked like he could drop at any moment, worn out from trying to keep up with whatever you were doing. Though you were keeping it playful, he was definitely at his wit's end. "You have to do the whole thing!" Joe cried out in frustration, dancing along with the figures on the screen and sending quick glares in your direction between moves. His hips were swaying along with the music, limbs flailing accordingly but sometimes not really even resembling anything close to what was on the screen. The scores popping up on his corner of the TV seemed okay by itself, but in comparison to yours, it was meager at best. "Absolutely not, dummy. That's so much energy conserved to do this." You continued shaking your Wii remote around in the appropriate moves, just the remote, and used the other hand to pick up your drink, taking a long sip from the straw and trying not to laugh as Joe made yet another noise of frustration. "Joe, come on.... who's winning here? I think I'm right." You were both playing Just Dance, one of the earlier versions, and a stark difference between the two of you had been quickly found out - while Joe, ever the dancer, did every single move with every part of his body, you were the type to swing only the remote hand around in time with your moves. Joe was beginning to get very annoyed at this tactic, so much so that he paused the game and crossed his arms, turning to scowl at you for a moment before he saw Ben's head peeking around the wall just past your shoulder. "Oh, hey bud!" Joe greeted, giving him a dopey grin before pulling off the Wii remote strap and purposely shouldering past you to greet Ben with a one armed hug. Ben reciprocated, meeting your gaze over Joe's shoulder and nodding in acknowledgement as you turned to face them, a hand on your hip and a cocky smile on your face. This was a much different you from when he'd seen you a few weeks ago, sleepy, slow, and somewhat inebriated. Now you were bright-eyed, alert, and seriously giving Joe a run for his money. "Sorry, she came over with her Wii and knew I couldn't resist a friendly game of Just Dance." "Friendly?" Ben laughed, looking between the two of you as he pulled out of the hug, setting his laptop on the counter. "Seems like you weren't having a good time." Glancing to the screen, he raised an eyebrow at the scores. "She's killing you, mate." "Well, she's a cheater, so." Shrugging, Joe went to grab his WiFi router so he could give Ben the password, Ben taking a seat at the stools  placed under the counter and turning a bit so he could see both of you. "Joe's just mad because I've been roasting him nonstop for the past hour," you informed Ben, pulling your Wii remote off your wrist and setting it on the couch as you lifted your gaze to meet his. You were reminded that they were green, paired with slightly damp, curly blonde hair that fell a bit over his forehead and blonde lashes that were extra visible at this angle. It was a fascinating combo, bright eyes framed by equally as bright lashes, and you couldn't help but smile a bit in wonder as you straightened up again. Was he made in a factory? He seemed too perfect to be real. Ben was intrigued by the look you gave him, so unreadable but so persistent that he almost asked if he had something in his teeth. But Joe ruined the moment, cutting in with his own biting words that severed the eye contact and directed attention back to him. "I hate it when you say roasted. That's my least favorite part of your vocabulary." Breaking out of your trance, you shook your head before giggling at the mild venom behind his words, unfazed by the grumpy pout he currently had on his face. Rolling your eyes playfully, you gave him the middle finger while you made your way past Ben into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of popcorn from the cabinet and tearing the plastic off as Joe helped Ben log in to his laptop. While your bag of popcorn popped, you quietly observed the two men, hunched over Ben's computer together and figuring out which network was his out of the hundreds that had similar names.   Joe was focused, his thin, darker eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he watched Ben scroll through the list on his screen. There was a clear stubble on his chin, a five-o'clock shadow that refused to be hidden as it shaded the area along his jaw and just above his lips, which were pressed together into a thin line when he wasn't murmuring network names to himself. He was cute, a goofy camp counselor kind of cute that was more endearing than anything, and you smiled a bit at the thought of Joe as a camp counselor - that would be too good. In contrast, Ben's lips fell slightly parted, his tongue trapped between his teeth as he directed all of his attention to the list as well. Assessing him sober this time, you realized he was actually quite good-looking, far beyond what you'd seen on that dark balcony through drunk goggles. Like, seriously good looking. This was another level of attraction, way past what you'd felt the first time Joe had showed up with Seb Stan and Chace Crawford. You crossed your arms over your chest, an insecure habit, as Ben's curious green eyes darted up and down the screen, searching for the name Joe had provided. When he finally located it, his plump, slightly chapped lips pursed into a round O shape, and Joe pointed to the name excitedly, his finger tapping the screen. Ben groaned and smacked his hand away meekly, jokingly complaining about a smudge on the the display while Joe laughed and wiped his hand off on the front of his shorts. "Sorry, we've been eating popcorn in between Y/N cheating," Joe explained, making you roll your eyes and suppress a grin as you turned to retrieve the bag of popcorn. Opening the steaming bag, you poured it into the bowl next to the microwave, then turned to sit it on the counter between the three of you as you spoke. "Again - still just salty that he's getting roasted." "Roasted? Is that really a popular slang word here?" Ben asked curiously, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for a moment as you hummed and turned to grab a packet of ranch seasoning. His eyebrows furrowed a bit when you flicked the packet back and forth, moving the seasoning to the bottom before you ripped open the corner, and you started to pour it over the popcorn as he watched, dumbfounded. "What kind of monstrosity is that?" "Ranch popcorn," you replied simply, emptying half of the packet before folding it over and pinching the corner, providing Ben with a sugar sweet smile as you did so. "Don't knock it 'til you try it, bloody ol' chap." Your smile disarmed him quite a bit - it was a smile that could disarm anyone, really, and he could tell by the way that Joe smiled with you that it had a similar effect on him. But your attempt at imitating his accent didn't go unnoticed, and Ben cringed a bit as he laughed, shaking his head. "Horrible. Truly horrible. And you didn't answer my question." "In Y/N's world, roasted is the only word," Joe answered for you, reaching to shake up the bowl a bit before he snatched a piece of popcorn off of the top, tossing it into his mouth and making a happy noise as he chewed. For a moment, he paused, then swallowed and added, "Actually, that and dummy." "Makes sense." Ben watched you as he replied, grinning a bit when you just smiled impishly and tossed the packet onto the counter, shrugging a bit before leaning forward to rest your elbows on the counter. Propping your chin on your hands, you cocked your head to the side a bit and fought back a bigger smile as Ben almost mirrored you, his head tilting just slightly to the side out of curiosity. "So, Mr. British Man-" "Ben," Joe interjected, sending you a pointed look and a raised eyebrow that only made you roll your eyes before continuing. "He's American now." "Dual citizen, but I'll look past it for now," Ben corrected, Joe scoffing quietly in response. "Okay, Ben. How has it been so far in America? You liking it?" Joe picked up his slip of paper from the counter, returning it to the router as Ben leaned his head on one hand, looking down to his computer screen and grimacing a bit at the thought of all the hell he'd had to go through in the past few weeks. But you were still practically a stranger, and even if he did want to get to know you better, he figured it was far too early for him to unload all of his problems on you. "Yeah, yeah, it's been alright," he yielded, scratching at his temple with his index finger before sitting up straight again and crossing his arms on the counter in front of him, the fabric of his sleeves straining a bit against the movement. "Unpacking was hell, but the rest was okay, I guess." "Oh, stop bullshitting me!" you laughed, pushing yourself up off the counter so you could go retrieve a beer from the fridge for him, the action in itself revealing your familiarity with Joe's apartment to Ben. Without looking, you grabbed the bottle opener magnet off of the freezer and popped the top off the beer, bringing it over to the handsome blond. "The DMV fucking sucked, didn't it?" "God, it was so terrible," Ben groaned unhappily, relieved that you'd practically read his mind as his shoulders slumped a bit, hand automatically reaching out to receive the beer. "Thank you. But seriously, between that and the bank, I swear I'm going to lose my fucking marbles! I had to go back to the DMV three times before they could finally see me, 'cause the wait was so long and I had other things to do!" "You gotta set aside, like, a whole afternoon for the DMV," you laughed, leaning on the counter again and watching quietly as he went to take a drink, his hand easily dwarfing the bottle. "Screw that, you need a whole day off for the DMV," Joe interjected, climbing onto the stool next to Ben and popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth. "I swear to God my license expiration dates have always haunted me." "Happens when you're pushing 80, dusty bones," you teased, propping your head up on one hand and imitating Joe's bitter, sarcastic laugh when he flipped you off.  "I'd rather be old and scared of license renewal than 22 and a cheater at Just Dance Wii." Twenty-two. So that's what Joe was talking about when he called you a kid. By no means was 22 a kid, but in relation to Joe, that was quite a jump. And yet, you carried yourself like you were at least 30, the confidence in your posture and sureness of your words masking the childishly playful glint in your eyes as you watched Joe, pressing your lips together to fight back a smile. Joe was returning the favor with a playful glare. "Speaking of Just Dance, are you gonna catch these L's again or what?" you challenged, Joe huffing before climbing off the stool again and heading for his discarded remote while you wiggled your eyebrows at Ben, then made your way back to the living room too. Sitting still for a moment, Ben blinked a few times in amazement at the whiplash you'd managed to give him yet again. You were full of surprises, someone that could talk sweet one moment and flame you to high heaven in the next, and honestly, he'd never wanted to be a person's friend so badly in his life. Turning on the stool, he watched as you both restarted the song, Joe immediately complaining when you set right back into your one-armed efforts. "Play the game like a normal person!" he whined, making you laugh and falter a bit in your dance moves as you leaned against him, your head on his shoulder while you squeezed his arm and made him cry out in even more frustration. "That's sabotage! Stop!" Straightening back up again, you fought a round of giggles as you tried to catch up, Joe frowning when you easily got back into the groove. Huffing softly, he reached over and clamped a hand over your eyes, making you cry hypocrisy as you struggled to pull his hand away, laughing in delight as Ben turned back to face his computer again, a contagious smile adorning his lips.  That smile stayed well on into the night, fueled by jokes, laughter, and friendly banter between the three of you that kept Ben there even after he'd gotten his emails sorted through. And somehow, you'd ended up on the balcony, Joe snoozing away in your reclining chair while you shared a smoke session with Ben, chatting about everything under the moon. You didn't smoke yourself, so you definitely didn't actually partake, but Ben didn't mind sharing space with someone who was picking his brain as well as you were. It was odd, bonding with Ben. He'd seemed like such a foreign concept when Joe had started all of this BoRhap business, something you weren't quite attached to - though you did enjoy the movie. But Ben had been nothing more but a character to you, some hot guy who frequented Joe's Instagram pictures and had comebacks/comments to rival your own. Now, he was here and real. You didn't know what to think of him yet - it was hard appraising a person in real life when you'd become so accustomed to the idea of him, the picture that Joe painted of him. To you, Ben was a pretty boy, a fitness-obsessed lad who was a bit of a flirt and couldn't resist a good bromance. Sure, Joe had said he had some shy moments, but really, he'd pegged him as quite a player, and that alarmed you when you found out he'd be around more - you didn't exactly have the best track record with men and a player would most certainly not be the worst blemish so far, so his frequent drop-ins could spell trouble. However, you hadn't seen any red flags about the man so far. Ben was quite a normal person, and you were starting to enjoy his company and conversation just as much as you enjoyed Joe's goofy, 'average Joe' personality. That didn’t mean you weren’t keen on keeping your guard up, though. "That's what I don't get!" Ben scratched his eyebrow a bit before taking another drag of the cigarette, shaking his head and exhaling the smoke to his left so it wouldn't go into your face. "You're saying guilty pleasures don't exist, but I have to hide my Spotify session every time I listen to the Spice Girls so I won't get absolutely walloped by all of my friends for my activity." Giggling at the thought of Ben jamming out to Spice Girls, you wrapped your fingers around the railing and leaned back once more to stretch as you shook your head in response. "I'm not saying they don't exist, but I'm saying they shouldn't exist!" you corrected, groaning a bit when Ben only gave you a more confused look. "Oh my god, I don't know how to make it any clearer here! Guilty pleasures shouldn't exist. If it's a pleasure, why does it have to be guilty, you know?" "I'm.... trying to follow," he admitted with a laugh, glancing back at Joe for a moment before meeting your gaze again and squinting a bit. "So, are you saying that because it's a pleasure, you shouldn't be guilty about it?" You made an excited noise and tapped the railing, then grinned at him and gently poked his arm to accentuate your next words. "Exactly. If I like drinking milk straight from the carton, why should I be ashamed?" "Because that's like, kind of disgusting," he replied, laughing a bit at your excitement and wrinkling his nose a bit. "D'you really drink milk straight from the jug?" Giving him a pointed look, you pressed your lips into a thin line before leaning forward on the rail with crossed arms. "See, that's why guilty pleasures still exist. You can't judge other people for things that make 'em happy, you know?" "Christ, sorry," he grimaced, and you could barely fight back the grin that played at your lips as you watched his expression morph into one of regret. "That was a shitty thing of me to say, of course it's fine if you like drinking milk from the jug. Jesus, I'm such a dickhead sometimes, I really don't think about what I say before it comes out of my mouth..." Scooting over a step or two as he rambled, you gently elbowed his side to get his attention, smiling benevolently when he turned to meet your gaze and his words faltered. "Chill, it's alright. Nobody's perfect." A pregnant pause followed soon after as Ben smiled just a bit, mainly just to make it seem like he wasn't still beating himself up over seeming like a cunt to you, but you weren't thinking about that anymore. Your mind was already moving on, eyes roving over his facial features slowly as you took them in. He was attractive, no doubt, and you had the faintest idea that there was some very real traction to the ladies man persona that Joe had talked about so much. It was wishful thinking to even consider that Ben wasn't at least half-aware of how potent his looks were. It was also wishful thinking to let any attraction you had to him get away from you and convince you that one date really wouldn't be that bad. You desperately needed Joe right about now so you could hear a discouraging story about Ben's conquests during filming, just to knock your self-confidence out and keep you from doing anything rash. It was really quiet now. Ben squinted a bit as he did the same to you, his gaze wandering quite a bit, but not lewdly. There was an innocent gleam in his eye, one that you couldn't quite understand - was he looking at you as Joe's neighbor, or a kid, or the hot girl next door? What was his approach here? You truly couldn't tell whether he was objectifying you, but the idea that he was sent a shiver through your spine as you tore your gaze away from his, unable to handle the heavy air between you and the stocky blond next to you.  A loud snore from Joe seemed to puncture the moment just seconds after you looked away, the both of you jolting a bit as the tension deflated, and you shared a laugh at how quickly Joe had managed to pass out on the balcony despite your incessant chatting. "Sleeps like a log, eh?" Ben commented, pushing himself back from the railing before snuffing out the cigarette he'd been neglecting in the mug that was serving as an ashtray.  "Always," you deadpanned, but a smile played at your lips as you walked around to stand on the other side of Joe, crouching down until you were eye level with the heavy sleeper. Ben could see every quirk of your lips, every subtle expression in your face as you reached out to shake Joe's shoulder gently, murmuring to him as you did so. "Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You in there?" Joe stirred, though not much, and a soft grumble from him prompted a sympathetic look in your eyes that did not go unnoticed by Ben, who now stiffened up at the interaction. Whiplash, once again, as he tried to reckon with the gentle side of you that wasn't privy only to him like he'd blindly and so dumbly assumed. That warm, somewhat sentimental look in your eyes was achingly familiar to Ben, seeing as he'd only witnessed it mere hours ago when you were nothing more than friendly strangers, your gaze following his while you listened to him groan about the DMV. So why was he so covetous? You'd barely just got to know each other, only having a few hours of talking time tonight where you'd picked up small details about each other, so the fact that your fondness of Joe irritated him was baffling. But it couldn't be jealousy, could it? Not this early. No, for sure not. By the time he'd snapped out of his stupor, you'd already managed to get Joe to his feet, giving him a warm hug before patting his back and sending him back to his apartment. That left you alone with Ben, and the heavy air settled once again as you gave him a somewhat shy smile, sighing before stepping around the chair and pulling him into a hug as well. Reciprocating, he wrapped his arms around you briefly, the warmth of his body surprising as it transferred between the layers of clothes between you and assaulted your skin. While you'd been almost cold out here on the balcony, he seemed like he was burning alive. And his face matched as he pulled away, a rosy coloring to his cheeks making you wonder whether it was you, or just rosacea and you were a dumb bitch. Taking a shaky breath, you decided to pocket the assessment for later. "Thanks for entertaining my bullshit all night." Ben laughed at your words, shoving his hands in his pockets and shaking his head as you moved your hand to the back of your shorts, subconsciously fiddling with the tag that was sticking out. "I'm really sorry if I said anything wrong. I didn't mean to be an arsehole," he admitted, bowing his head a bit before shooting a sheepish look at you that was paired with a boyish smile. "It was nice talking to you, though. Sleepy Joe doesn't make great conversation. And I like getting to know you, you're.... interesting." He said the last word as his lips quirked upwards even more, his eyes crinkling a bit at the vague compliment that made you furrow your eyebrows playfully and give him a questioning look. "Wow, Joe wasn't wrong when he said you were a charmer," you noted. While Ben shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets with the same undying smirk still on his face, you took the opportunity to return to your side of the balcony, your hand going to pull your sliding door open as you peeked over your shoulder. There was a sly smile on your lips as you did so, one that said everything and nothing at all in one go as you spoke. "Goodnight, Ben. See you later." You would see him later. Never had you considered how true that statement could be as you came across his profile on Bumble while you were burrito-ed in your comforter, curled in the fetal position as your nightly playlist was on in the background to lull you to sleep. Hozier crooned to you while a sweaty, cutoff-clad Ben stared you down from the confines your phone screen. You hadn't actually expected to run into him on the app, despite having that nagging memory of Joe mentioning that Ben was on here.  It made you drop your phone at first, a knee-jerk reaction paired with a shocked expression that lasted for a few seconds before you scrambled to pick up your phone, staring at the picture of him at the gym again. It was a stereotypical fuckboy picture in the big mirror at the gym, but you got a good giggle out of the short bio that didn't even remotely hint at him being an actor - how humble, and how juxtaposed with his red carpet flexes in the subsequent photos. Suddenly, you realized that you had to swipe left or right. Your heart seized up for a moment, and all rational thought was thrown out the window as you went into a panic. If you swiped right, what if you matched? But if you didn't and then he swiped right on you, then he would know when you didn't match and that would make things really awkward. "Mmmmfuck no. Nope." You closed the app, too overwhelmed by all of the situations that choosing could cause, and you fell into an uneasy sleep as Ben sat dormant in your Bumble cache, waiting for an answer. Little did you know, seeing your profile had induced the same panic for him. But he'd done something that you couldn't. He chose.

---

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[brialavellan]

It has been 20 years since Inquisitor ‘Manehn Lavellan defeated Corypheus, and 18 years since the Exalted Council. Solas is furthering his plans and so far, all efforts to stop him seem to be in vain….until the Well of Sorrows begins to speak to ‘Manehn once more. Led by ancient magics and beset by enemies from Ferelden and Orlais to Antiva and Tevinter, ‘Manehn must gather allies old and new in a race against time to defeat Solas - at any cost.

(NOW ON AO3)

Chapter 1 ||  Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8  || Chapter 9  || Chapter 10 

CH 11: For the Love of the People

There were no screams.

No cries of warning.

The only sound they heard was the soft whoosh of arrows through open windows, connecting with the head of each victim, their jaws agape in shock as their limp bodies slumped over from their chairs and fell to the floor.

Four elves in black leather armor slung their bows on their backs and crept into the small red-brick house. Briala, in her russet-brown leather armor, weaved her way around the pools of blood and hunched under the table where their victims had been playing a game of cards. 

She got on her hands and knees and her eyes scanned the floors and baseboards for any breaks in the pattern, her fingers tapping the wood to feel for anomalies. She noticed a loose spot. She rapped on the wood and the wood echoed back. She pulled out her dagger, wedged it between the wooden boards, and pushed down hard. The wood snapped and revealed another cache filled with pieces of rolled parchment. She gently pulled the scraps of parchment from the small earthen hole and began to sift through each one while her agents meandered around her, checking all ingresses for suspicious intruders or curious visitors. The writing was nearly illegible on all of them but when you put them together, the meaning was clear. 

Charter’s codebreakers (with Briala’s assistance) had deciphered the old notes they found on the dead elves at the Divine’s Ascension celebration. The codes had changed since they found the notes on the dead elves, but not by enough. Using the cache of notes that Briala had found in Val Royeaux’s catacombs, Briala and Charter were able to deduce that Fen’harel’s agents used a form of alphabetic substitution, with multiple substitution alphabets. There was a pattern to the changes, a method to the madness. It had to be this way, so that lower level associates did not have to work as feverishly to memorize more alphabets. Keys had to be easily memorized. 

And Briala had the latest key.

She did not have to work very hard to translate what she had found. And what she read merely confirmed her suspicions.

They had planned to assassinate Duke Alfonse Blanchard, whose duchy encompassed Emprise de Leon and with whom Briala had a strong trade relationship.

And they had planned to assassinate him tonight. 

Had planned. 

Until plans changed.

“Duke Blanchard?” one of the elves, a young dark skinned woman with a small afro groaned. “The youngest brother, he is. Last one left. Worked for him as a bard. Paid well. Bit of a tit. But not murder-worthy. Why’d Fen’harel want ‘im dead?”

“Don’t know. Don’t believe in self-appointed gods anyway,” her sibling, a young man with cornrows, said. “Where was he at when Halamshiral burned down, eh? Seems like a god could’ve stopped that, after all.” He chuckled darkly.

“It’s a ploy to weaken the Dales,” Briala said. “Fen’harel’s agents claim to fight for the people but…” she paused, “I know it doesn’t feel like enough, but we didn’t earn what we have through open warfare.”

“It’s stupid to assasinate with stabbing. Too messy,” piped a pale, freckled agent with crimson hair, changing the subject. “And killing the kids too. Come on! That’s just over…well…overkill.” 

“So this it for today?” an older, ruddy-faced elven woman with salt-and-pepper curls asked. “Or we’ve got more? I know a Red Jenny in Val Royeaux who could take a peek’n’sneak. Maybe find a few to shoot if she’s not tripping up a nob or two.”

“No, that’s too dangerous,” Briala said. “The rest will go to ground but they weren’t as much of an immediate threat as the one here and the two in Halamshiral. We’ve saved the lives of three allies. We’ve saved the Dales for now. You all did good work here.” 

“‘Course we did,” the man in the cornrows said with a grin and earned a ribbing from his sister. 

She pointed to the siblings. “Adele, Alain, you’ll come back with me to Emprise du Lion.” she said. “We need to inform Duke Blanchard that we just saved his life.” 

She walked up to the other two and handed them each a small roll of parchment. “Crimson and Lily, you will both stay here until I give you more orders. Burn these after you read them. Make sure Fen’harel doesn’t send more agents.” 

She paused and took a hard look at the faces of her agents. 

“I know it just looks like he is merely trying to weaken my alliances. But he is destroying everything you all have built. We built a home in the Dales, where elves are treated as free men. Where we live on our terms, not as second class citizens, but as equal people, woven within the fabric of Orlais. They are our people, yes. I don’t wish to fight them, but they would destroy what we have crafted over twenty years for a foolish ill-conceived attempt at rebellion that will take as many elven lives as they claim to save. What we have is not perfect, but it’s ours. And I’ll defend what we have to the death.”

All four elves nodded at her words with solemn gratitude. Briala saw no hesitation, no twitch of an eye or biting of lips. They were loyal. So far. But being betrayed had burned her too much and she could not help but feel that she was missing something. Not a key or a code. Fabrication or not, the mystery of the freckled elven man still cast a shadow of doubt. 

“There’s no doubt here if you’re looking for it, Marquise,” Crimson said with a smile. “We’ll do what needs to be done. We know you will too.”

————————

The tavern was bustling, near bursting at the seams with the sound of drunken merriment. The type of desperate merriment when you have little to lose, and you lose, and you lose more. So you take what you can, and don’t dare hope for more. This was enough, for now. But Alienage streets still simmered with resentment across Orlais. The undercurrent still sullied the mood of the revelers just enough where they could be dangerous.

Katrina sat at the back of the tavern, tracing the rim of her mug of water. A young elven man with greasy blonde hair in pauper’s clothes approached and slipped her a coin, one that marked him as ally, and leader, of the Val Royeaux cell. All of Solas’s agents worked independently, but all knew Katrina. His lieutenant. His closest confidant (or as close of a confidant as Fen’harel kept). Her will was his. Her position, unassailable. Her dedication, unwavering. 

And all of his agents stood in awe before her.

The young man bowed deeply, almost touching his own feet. “Lieutenant, it is a great honor…”

“I don’t ask for honor,” Katrina chastised him. “And you shouldn’t grovel at my feet. You are elven. Have some pride.”

The young man straightened up and cracked his knuckles, “You’re right, of course, my apologies, Lady Katrina,” he said with a raspy Orlesian accent as he took a seat.

“Have you heard the news from Emprise du Leon and Halamshiral?”

“Just minutes ago,” he said, his croaky voice barely managing more than a whisper, “Claudette said there’s not a trace of them left. From any of them. Not even bodies. If that’s true then -”

Katrina stopped him, “They’re dead, Jacques. Briala found them out.”

“Briala…” his voice cracked with disgust. “She plays at revolution, but kills more elves than humans.”

“I remember,” Katrina said. She had told the Inquisition long ago. She warned them that the elf who fancied herself Ambassador was no more than Celene’s pet, barely above a bed warmer. In her eyes, Briala was just a high class courtesan. She would jump into the arms of anyone who could give her the power she grasped for.

“If she knows about them,” Jacques whispered, fidgeting in his seat, “then she knows about the rest of us. She can bring us all down. She -”

“Jacques, just change your codes and watch your backs,” she told him, exasperated, “this is just a minor setback. Nothing more, nothing less. They run around dousing small fires but don’t see the blazing inferno on the horizon. Our leader plays a longer game, beyond their understanding and even beyond ours. You must trust him as he trusts us.”

“Of course, of course, of course,” Jacques said, nodding as he spoke, more so as a prayer than a true affirmation. 

“Besides,” Katrina said with an icy smile. “Briala may have power and wealth. But we,” she gestured to the patrons in the crowded tavern. “We have the People.”

Katrina rose from the table and slipped her way through the throng of patrons towards the counter, hoisting herself on top of the counter-top despite the tavern keep’s feeble protest.

“Everyone listen up!” she yelled over the din of drunken patrons, “I want to make a toast to all of us!”

The patrons settled down for just a moment, just long enough to entertain whatever drunken rabble they expected. 

“For decades, centuries, millenia, we’ve been pushed around, right?” she started, “We’ve been beat down and told we’re less than nothing. We get treated like dirt, like dregs, by humans! All the damn time!”

The racket began to give way to confused murmuring. A heckler yelled at her to get to the fucking point already.

“But you know what? Humans don’t treat us like that because they hate us. They do it because they’re jealous of us. They do it because they are frightened by us!”

She continued, fire in her chest and her voice in a frenzy. 

“We conquered Thedas before they arrived! We rose with Shartan and Andraste and brought the Tevinter Imperium to its knees! Our people have defeated Blights! Our people healed the Breach!” 

The confused murmuring gave way to a chorus of righteous pride. 

“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of taking shit! I’m tired of being treated like nothing! No, less than nothing! We are more than the humans could ever dream! And one day, we’re gonna show them!”

The righteous pride gave way to raucous cheering. Katrina raised a closed fist and the rest followed suit, a drunken crescendo singing a single verse.

The elvhen will rise again!

————————

“And here is the hero of our hour, Marquise Briala!” Duke Alfonse Blanchard called out as Briala walked through the stained glass doors of his summer chateau and rushed to greet her, taking her hand and leading her inside, her two agents following behind and giving each other an almost-amused look. “I could not have had a more stalwart ally in these troubled times. And your timing is most impeccable.“

He greeted her in a yellow plaidweave waistcoat with tails that almost touched the floor, burgundy heeled boots, and black breeches with a burgundy stripe down the sides, a style, Briala noted, two seasons out of fashion. She maintained her sweet smile despite her horror. With any other person, these crimes of fashion would be nigh unforgivable but he was so charming, so adept at the Grand Game, that one could almost forgive his gaudy tastes. Without his charm, he would have lost his lands and his head like both of his brothers, who were found to be conspiring with the Venatori twenty years prior. 

As the four made their way inside to the large marble-tiled and gilded-golden foyer, a group of lesser nobles crowded around them from a balcony that overlooked the foyer. He did make sure to address Briala, of course, but spoke mainly for the crowd.

“I have long supported the free reign of the Dales and through my connections, we have built a partnership built on equity and mutual trust. It is a triumph for us and for Orlais. May our partnership show a new path forward to all who would witness it. And may we celebrate with a toast!” 

He raised his crystal glass and drank deeply. The attendees clapped and drank as well as he finished his soliloquy. Briala noticed his northern partners did not clap as enthusiastically and took smaller sips of their toasts versus his smaller, southern supporters. 

Her coalition was holding fast, she noted, but it was still too small. The southern duchys noticed the sea change among the Council of Heralds. They knew as long as the Chantry stood behind their Herald of Andraste, the Herald stood behind Briala, and as long as Celene did not move against any of them that their ascension was assured. 

The northern neighbors were not pleased. As Briala was falling out of favor with Celene, her center of power around Val Royeaux and the North was growing increasingly hostile. They were her most ardent supporters in the Civil War. Besides outliers like Ghislain, she had almost no Northern support. 

If Celene was trying to undermine the Chantry, that could make some Northern allies rush to her side, since the Grand Enchanter had made sure the Council of Heralds was stacked with those most loyal to her. The Southern partners would then jump at the chance to undermine Celene further and expand their own influence. In that way, Celene was stuck, unable to act against Briala more forcefully. But as Natalie and her ilk sought to undermine the Chantry from within, then Celene’s power would grow. 

Enough to rid herself of the meddlesome marquise.

Briala milled around and mingled with the guests for a while, examining each gesture and every syllable spoken, building her list of allies and adversaries, those who she could count on and those she could not. Nobles might bend their knees as she greeted them, but every act was a performance on the world’s greatest stage. Her two agents followed, close enough to protect but far enough away to blend into the scenery, to note what she might miss. On this stage, elves were relegated to minor characters, but her agents, along with many other elves, used their invisibility to their advantage. 

Even allyship, now matter how publicly declared, was always conditional among the nobility. Like rats on a sinking ship, her allies would scatter at the first sign of trouble. Even Duke Blanchard’s words, no matter how grand, were empty platitudes even if he did feel personal gratitude.

The only true ally she had ever had, who gave her everything and expected nothing, was ‘Manehn.

“I hope you like hot weather,” the Duke said, beaming as he approached, “The Lady Montilyet has invited all her trading partners to a soiree. The Marquise de Serault, the Duke de Ghislain and several others will be there. I’ll make sure you have an invitation.” 

“I’m honored.” Briala said, just loud enough for her words to echo, “I did have an engagement with the Comtesse Cosette of Lydes, but I can postpone that for another date.”

She did not have an engagement with Comtesse Cosette of Lydes. This was a public, retaliatory snubbing, payback for her trying to entrap Briala into an inequitable trade deal six months before and for trying to poison her two fêtes ago. As Briala rose, her status would now fall. The two agents noted the Comtesse’s dismay and slightly smiled at her distress. Lydes might start to submit now, if only to save face. 

“And do bring the Herald, of course, would you?” the Duke added after a long pause to witness this spectacle. “She just insisted that the Herald come. And it would be quite splendid to have the Savior of Orlais in attendance, don’t you think?”

Briala nodded with a placid smile. “I do.”

————————

Under cover of a moonless night, ‘Manehn and Davhalla arrived back at the Cathedral, saddle-sore from four days of hard riding. They had traded 20 sovereigns for two riding horses in the nearest trade town outside the Brecilian Forest, and had nearly gotten themselves arrested because the local townspeople could not fathom two Dalish elves that could rub two coppers together, much less two Dalish elves with more money than most there saw in a month.

One of Briala’s people, a courier, met them at the gates with a missive and a somber glance.

“News from Kirkwall,” he said as he pressed the letter into ‘Manehn’s hand. She stared at him for several seconds, shaking the note at him, until he realized his error, took the missive back and broke the seal with both of his hands. 

“A riot,” he grimly read from the page, “in the Alienage. Troublemakers set fire. Lots dead, mostly elves. Definitely Fen’harel’s doing.”

‘Manehn’s veins turned to ice and her jaw tightened.

“Your daughter is safe,” he added, seeing ‘Manehn freeze, “She’s with our people. She’ll be back in three days. Four if the currents don’t agree.” 

‘Manehn breathed an audible sigh of relief as the courier departed. 

“I shouldn’t have kept her alone,” she said, shaking her head and rubbing her temple. “I shouldn’t have even taken her to Kirkwall. I don’t even know what I was thinking, getting her involved in this.”

“She’s nineteen now, ‘Manehn. You can’t keep her sheltered forever,” Davhalla said to her. “She’s learning under guidance, structure and without her risking her life unnecessarily.”

“I’ve done nothing but just put her in danger. Repeatedly. What would’ve happened if she couldn’t banish that demon or if Solas’s people had - ”

“She is a Dreamer. She is the daughter of one of the most influential and powerful elves in Orlais,” Davhalla said grimly. “She is always in danger. She needs to be given the tools to defend herself. She needs to learn how to fight, especially given her eagerness to do so.”

“She shouldn’t have to.”

“None of us should have to, but we do anyway, don’t we?” Davhalla said with a yawn and a stretch of her arms as she walked away towards the Apartments.

‘Manehn retired to her room, eager to sleep but equally eager to soothe her rattled nerves. She found two servants and had them draw a hot bath while she undid the straps down her arm and across her chest that latched her dagger to her stump and set it on her desk. As the servants heated the water, she lit a candle, grabbed a magnifying glass, and scanned every inch of her blade. The pins that kept it sheathed were wearing, she noted, and the blade was blunting. She would have Dagna take a look at it. 

Later. 

She would take care of everything later.

She was too tired for racing thoughts and insomnia tonight. Too tired to take the honey wine that she usually needed to put herself to sleep. If only she could pause time, she thought, then maybe she could know peace. Had it really been so long that a spectre did not shadow her? Whether it was the fate of her clan, her people, or all of Thedas, she did not remember a time where she did not carry a burden. Carrying that burden had weathered her as much, if not more, than the mere passage of time. 

She sent the servants away, slipped off her clothes and sunk the bath, savoring the slight sizzle on her skin from the hot water as the filth washed away. She slid further into the tub, propped up her feet and leaned her head slightly back  until her hair touched the water. If she slipped further down, she thought, if she submerged herself completely, could she stay there? Could she surrender what glimmer of life remained within her?

She pulled herself back up and shuddered as the cool air hit her skin. She would not succumb. 

She pulled herself out of her bath, grabbed a towel and headed to bed. She hoped that for this night, she would sleep well.

[petty-revenge-stories]

Yeah I'll get that for you...

"Sorry for the format you're just going to have to deal with it due to the fact my laptop got stolen a couple days back."

So I live in the south (US) and I had just moved out from my mom's place at 16 turning 17 that summer to graduate from my home town (she moved out of the town a year prior.)

I got a job at McDonald's (I miss working there 😭) because I had a couple of friends that worked there and could help me learn my jobs faster.

I chose to be a cashier due to the fact I flew through the training and that I would be easier to watch and check for mistakes.

2 weeks into the job I'm working at back window on a Thursday and a woman gets a #1 and #2, (Big Mac meal and Quarter Pounder meal where I live) and pulls up to my window...

(She'll be AW for ass-wipe)

Me: Still loving half priced breaks, "That'll be $15.37. "

AW: "how is it that much? I got 1 #1 and a #2 meal."

Me: "A Quarter pounder Meal and a Big Mac meal?"

AW: "No, 1 Big Mac AND a Quarter pounder Meal!"

Me: 'I'm sorry about that ma'am anything else?"

AW: No... (Still wondering why she hasn't moved yet.)

Me: Just thinking it was a simple misunderstanding, "That'll be $12.38."

(just coming up with random prices for story sake)

AW: talking to man in the passenger seat, "this is why the generation needs to stop paying attention to their devices!" To me... "I'm going to come back and make sure you get my order right the next time..."

Me: Clearly not caring because I doubt I would remember her, "Alright ma'am have a nice day."

Thinking nothing of it a week later she comes back...

Orders the same thing (keep in mind I don't remember her voice but she remembers mine.)

Me: Now over the half priced break food, "That'll be $12.38."

AW: Seeming to be ready to lay into me, "Can you read my order back to me?"

Me: "You have a Big Mac and a Quarter pounder meal with a Dr. Pepper, is that right?"

AW: "You actually got it right!" Her and her passanger this time a woman about her age applaud me.

Me: Just weirded out by the applause, "alright ma'am you're total is $12.38."

AW: Pays "I'll be back next week."

Me: Confused on why she said that, "Alright ma'am have a nice day."

Later towards the end of my shift my manager calls me in her office and says I have a person who said I got her drink wrong. Usually at McDonald's you wouldn't get in trouble for that, but she made it sound like she was allergic to coke so I got a write-up for giving someone a wrong item on the level of allergic reaction.

She comes back every Thursday up until my last 2 weeks there. (I had put in a three week notice because I was going to secondary school and hour away and was going to transfer before just quitting) I messed her order up 2 times before and she was determined to get me fired or something.

So me being pissed at the world for me oversleeping that morning, bombing a test at school, and pick up a hated relative an hour drive away from my house. Safe to say I was ready to snap on anyone who got in my way that day

She orders her usual by now I know it's her when I see her. I got her drink wrong and she was trying to let me have it until I told her...

Me: "Listen ma'am I'm not having the best of days today so I really am not in the mood for your pettiness, so if you could pay and move on that would be great."

AW: "Well maybe you should get your shit together and get a drink right for a change."

Me: thinking in my head "Two more weeks..." Like a mantra just says sure and let's her move on without another word.

She comes back in the drive-thru almost hitting a worker taking out the trash. Comes back and says I forgot her drink. I tell her to give me her receipt and I'll get her the stink that she desires so much.

AW: Taken back by what I said to her, "since when do you have to give someone a receipt at McDonald's?!"

She says she just came through and I know who she is.

Me: Ready to snap, thinks of an idea. "Yeah I'll get it out to you in a moment just park on the side of the building and I'll bring it out to you."

My manager clearly had seen what happened and asked if I was ok.

Me: Talking in a happy mad voice "Oh I'll be ok once I give this woman her drink."

For those of you that have had the pleasure of not working in fast food fountain drinks are a combination of carbonated water and syrups that make them taste like the drink they're supposed to be. At my McDonald's we had a button for plain carbonated water with no syrup.

I took her cop filled it 19/20 of the way with ice 1/5 of the way with Dr. Pepper, and the rest with pure carbonated water, and stirred it to make sure it was dark enough to pass for Dr. Pepper through the lid but enough carbonated water to make someone gag if they didn't know what it was.

Me: Walks to her car, "Here you go."

AW: "Thank you." With a shit eating grin on her face, "what did I get you in trouble with you're manager?"

Me: out of patience, "No but I'm about to be you entitled bitch! Fuck off!"

She had a look of pure shock on her face and my manager hears me because I still have my headset on tells me to go home a couple hours early and cool off, I'm off the next day, but I have to talk to the head manager about my punishment.

I come back the next day, turns out she came in an hour after I left while they were busy demanding a manager for her drink making her sick and throw up, swearing in front of kids, senior citizens, and a bunch of parents. She got kicked out and told to never come back to the restaurant by a manager, and so I worked my last two weeks. And got my last paycheck and headed out of my job a champion.

(source) story by (/u/1NS1G)

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Ms Chen would be pleased

She said "the most peaceful way to demonstrate and protest and have your angriest voice heard is to vote and we are lucky in this country Because we are allowed to vote. Women and Blacks worked hard for the future of them -- you -- and i dont mean biologically i mean their heart and spirit and knowing well the people in front of them when they see the future must learn and learn well in order to protect the world. Because you see this country is very powerful as is China. While China is bigger, the United States has more power and I'm sorry to tell you that all the power in the world, relies on you to use your angry voice in that polling booth. My parents still in China can not vote. They are not allowed. (No matter how many times she said this speech some one always gasped. And it -- her words caused my heart to stop in fear for her family and China and it did for many kids. They became terrified for the citizens of China) Because there is No voting. None. Not allowed. It is not too far. It is not too boring. It just does not exist. So it is you to protect the people of China. Tawain. NE Asia. You the voters of the most powerful of nations -- the USA"

And some of us. When she said to protect China. We promised with our whole hearts and souls we would. There is now voting in China

It was not until 1988 that a Village Chief in a town in China could be voted for. And in 1989 it still hadn't occurred in hers.

She never lived to the day it would be before she was murdered by the Chinese Embassy in NYC that she was trying to work with to help China and it's citizens.

She was murdered on April 17, 1990. We were notified on 4-20-90 its never been a joyous holiday for me. I try to avoid the date. Sleeping through it usually.

So two days ago was her 29th anniversary of her death. And she will be dead 30 years.

Two days ago a castle was bought for me. Two days ago i helped solve 88 murders and 43 people were arrested.

Two days ago i cried a lot and it was a very difficult day for me. And I didn't know it was the 29th anniversary of her death 30 years ago

I think i did her wonderfully proud.

She was abducted on her way to work on a Tuesday morning. Friday morning we were told of the news.

We were worried. I told the office... They had been in tears for two days in a row i said "you better tell me what's going on because i know something is. I been down here every day this week to find out about Ms Chen. Y'all attitude aint right. So us kids have assembled a search party for right after school if er can't find her on this island by midnight tonight we will go home to sleep for at least 3 hours as Me Chen would say we need to rest, she is not that important. Then we will go to Brooklyn to search. So you as an adult better tell me. And then tell them what the fuck is going on with you emotionally. Other wise put a post it in each teacher box so have an adult to go with us. 5 am for the city ferry then on to Brooklyn."

Half the office was literally i mean honestly throwing up in trash cans.

Ms Pallen the principal came in with a small jewelry like box. And what was inside was mostly covered by a tissue. "Sabrina is -- this ring -- does this belong to Ms Chen, finger and all?"

"Well it looks like her rin--" i lifted the small tissue covering her finger "a finger! Where's the rest of her?! Did you get the hand?! What about an arm?! Where is her body?!"

I wanted to know more. The more missing body parts the less chance we had to save her. I knew -- she told us. So a finger? Just a finger?! We were looking good!! Of all her stories. She of all people was tough enough to lose a finger and keep on talking.

"Do i have permission to leave the building for one quick look just around? I'll be back swiftly i promise"

Our principal softly stroked our friends finger and nodded gently and sadly as tears dropped down ... If tears and throw up could bring her back we were doing well in this office.

"As bad as it pains you look in the worst place first. Here i would think it would be water. I can't swim. Well barely. But not too good for New York City's oceans" she had said. She said it was the worst to know we would think but in reality it was worst to question and hope when there was none.

So i took off to the seawall and ran up and down looking but i didn't see her... I didn't want to. So I ran all the way around the tiny military island. Then back. Then i rode the public transit bus looking far off in the middle not the edge then the outer edge at Brooklyn. I got off at the school. I walked directly to the sea wall and looked down.

There she was floating face down. Her skirt covering as much of her legs as possible. Her beautiful black hair covering much of the rest. She had on one heel, a white shirt and black skirts. One of her favorite outfits she said. Because she said it made her feel most business.

I walked slow back to the school.

Ms Pallen smiled "i knew you were onto something, did you find it?"

My eyes got huge because i had and i had been believed in and i looked up at her in her heels "i do. I need the police"

She was smiling all kinds calling it in. "She found a clue. No shes mute. You know how she gets. No not really happy. Oh she's thinking and her mouth is dropped. Not good? Oh it's a clue! Just hurry"

Ms Pallen kneeled down next to me I really worked st hiding what i saw. What i had did.

"So what is happening. What clue can you tell me?"

I looked down, with dead eyes. Glassy purposeful eyes and a stroked her head, starting at the tip top and down to her chin "I'm sorry"

"No" she started to angry scowl and cry at the same time.

I nodded "yep"

"No" she started crying again her face contorting different

"Shh it will be all okay. Come sit" i patted the seat next to me

"What's wrong with her eyes? She looks dead -- no im not going to throw up. I think"

"A clue" I held Ms Pallen's hand. I was the kid. But no one was gonna be okay.

"If she's dead im gonna get a new job. Remember i told you that. Her, too!"

"Then you better start" i hung my head. No Don't look down Ms Chen would say. Be strong for you and your friends "looking" i looked up cheerfully as if it were just a bright new day.

"Haha very funny kid"

I just smiled. -- show me you're happy. Show the world you can be And be free. She would say. I found her. The world could rest. Stop puking. Stop being afraid. Ms Chen would like me for that.

"Why so happy kid?"

"Cause... Life... It never ceases to exist. Its always inside me"

"Bright sunshiney day"

"Looks gloom and dreary if you ask me"

"Maybe that's why i didn't see her at first."

"Sabrina you have something for me? Did you see thr finger? They only had it since yesterday" i heard behind me, a male voice, "good mornin girls. Sabrina do you hear me?"

"She went mute again but shr was just talking. Let me get my coat"

"Sabrina do you need her?"

I nodded

"Don't nod. Speak. What do you need? You know you can tell me?"

"Every one clocked in in the office and at two chair or an ambulance. People will need to sit"

"Well uh how come?"

"Death"

"Well, come on it's just a finger."

"Chair. Ambu bed"

"So she's alive?"

"Morg--- just come on"

Halfway there he dropped the chairs. Just dumped them. The girls left a string of clues behind. Shoes. Coats. Jackets. They all knew. They all knew as soon as they saw my direct path was to the fence seperating the land from the water.

And they ran. Throwing all their unnecessary items behind. So they could get in the water. All three of them. 2 secretaries and a principal.

And the body of the world's greatest teachers floating stiff and face down, dead.

"Yeah it's her alright. But she's missing two fingers i guess her parents got the other one. Her two families most important things. Both index fingers or her pointer. Sabrina what's that mean? Im gonna sit in the water with her until the coroner gets here. I don't want her to be alone" said what had appeared to be the weakest Secretary but most determined

"I don't know if she's more beautiful dead or alive. Shes like a mermaid. And so pretty."

"Sabrina what's It mean? The one index?" Asked our police

"You're number one. Wait right here. One minute and I'll be back"

"She had them cut it off? I bet she did. She's a tough woman like that" she sat on a dry area next to our friend.

"Idk how much you know about biology. But that finger had no blood. Shes been dead at least since yesterday" Ms Pallen out of the water in a wool green plaid frock dress, her fur coat in the street at the stop sign.

"The moment they picked her up. She was never going to live past that" i sighed

"But sabrina why would she want them to cut it off?" She asked looking towards the school

"Reincarnation. She means it. She will be back. Or She will never leave at all"

"Sabrina she's not supposed to talk about religion with you. Seperation of church and state" she said looking out over the water send down.

"Chinese culture is not a religion to some people. Neither is American religion not a culture"

"Oh she loopholed. That is sweet. Now we know. Oh my dear sweet friend, here is your ride coming up" said Ms Pallen the principal.

"the most peaceful way to demonstrate and protest and have your angriest voice heard is to vote and we are lucky in this country Because we are allowed to vote. Women and Blacks worked hard for the future of them -- you -- and i dont mean biologically i mean their heart and spirit and knowing well the people in front of them when they see the future must learn and learn well in order to protect the world. Because you see this country is very powerful..."

And you are a part of that power.

So register to vote then vote in the November 2020 election.

Raise your kids right. Not only are they our future. They will take over the world.

I did.

[relenafanel]

The Scarlet Pimpernel AU - a Patreon Reward Fic

for @ohsweetcrepes and based on the scarlet pimpernel tag (it was basically a given that I would write this for her)

[warning for recreational drug use whoops; established relationship; politics]

Steve adjusted the bandana covering his mouth and nose and squinted through the mass of people in front of him. The protection wouldn’t do much against teargas but it would help hide his identity. He’d arrived to the rally late after finishing up his article, and he observed the crowd carefully to judge the general mood. There was an energy thrumming, anger and discontent, and a hope of change. He could feel it on his skin, giving him goosebumps. It felt like revolution.

These things often did, but the feeling was starting to perforate the general population and each protest had more and more people attending. Things were happening, people were speaking up and noticing, and Steve couldn’t see any place for himself except in the middle of it.

It was the least he could do. Sometimes change started by just showing up.

Steve couldn’t understand how anyone could just sit back and wait instead of doing something about it. He didn’t understand complacency towards government corruption, not when the alternative was this. But then, he’d come to accept that radical action wasn’t for everyone.

The press of people moved forward, and Steve watched as the police started to push back. Pierce’s proposed policies against peaceful protests for the protection of the police and citizens made sense to too many people who didn’t question the implications it had against freedom for non-violent expression against the government.

Steve wasn’t close enough to see which side turned violent first, but he started to push his way through the crowd to get to the center of it, because that was why he did this. It wasn’t for the first-hand insight for an article – though that was a pleasant side-benefit – and it wasn’t for the glory. He didn’t want to see anyone getting hurt, but if and when things turned violent, well Steve threw a fantastic punch.

Someday he’d have a chance to use it on Pierce’s face. He didn’t care whether or not the man recognized him when he did. He did care whether or not it would lose him Bucky, but Steve was beginning to understand that Bucky might not blink an eye. His boyfriend might be the type to worry more about his manicure and outwardly express ‘let them eat cake’ when it came to political matters, but there was something beneath the surface when it came to his step-father that Steve couldn’t put his finger on.

Bucky was civil and polite, almost to the point of pontification.

It made Steve wonder.

And just when the tide of movement turned violent, the Winter Soldier was there with his performative muzzle and non-descript uniform, cutting through the crowd that parted for him like each footstep exuded a sense of get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way. Steve had seen people on Twitter call it a murder strut, and in the exposé Steve wrote he’d referred to it as a powerful statement of willpower.

The Winter Soldier stood between both sides, holding his hands out to stop the action. “There are two men in a black van a block from here with machine guns. They’ve been hired to make martyrs and villains of all of us to prove Pierce’s bill. Don’t let them get away with tyranny.” He said in a voice that carried through the entire park.

It was a tense moment, a stillness before action, before people reacted in fear.

The Winter Soldier moved to disappear in the chaos. Steve had learned a long time ago that following where he went was like playing a shell game of misdirection. He moved to his left, intent on questioning The Winter Soldier about whether what he said was true or a ruse.

He found himself getting swallowed by the fleeing crowd, and when he looked up he spotted Winter on a fire escape. The man seemed to see Steve at the same time Steve saw him, and he hesitated for a moment before climbing the rest of the way to the roof.

Steve swore and followed.

The roof was empty by the time he got to it. He stood there for a moment, wondering if he should take a chance by picking a direction to jump between buildings. Guesswork might not getting him anywhere but trapped on a roof with no access to the ground (or worse). Steve wasn’t a quitter, but he also knew that Winter would come find him eventually.

x.x.x.

Or immediately. Steve unlocked his car door to find Winter sitting in the passenger seat, feet up on the dash and mask still firmly in place. Steve had never seen him without it, not even while he was interviewing the man, and he respected Winter’s privacy and never asked.

“So was it true,” Steve asked as he pulled out of the parking lot. He’d parked an entire subway stop away. He didn’t know how Winter tracked him down, whether it was hacking skills, a bug on his car, or if Winter just knew him.

“I found out from someone close to the man himself.”

So it was true. It was the kind of reign of terror that Steve never expected to be a part of when he was taking his Political Science degree, but then he’d learned a lot about the reality of his country since then. There were people on American soil who’d always known.

“I could use someone closer,” Winter told him after Steve had been silently reflecting for a while. “Someone he’d never expect.”

“You’re not getting him,” Steve said in a rush, before his brain even realized Winter was talking about Bucky. “I tried feeling it out months ago. He doesn’t have the head for politics or intrigue. Maybe if you wanted to know what shoes all of Pierce’s staff members where wearing he could help you out.”

“I suppose he loves his father,” Winter sneered. “Would never want to see him lose power.”

Steve reflected on that for a moment. “I’m not sure love is the word.”

That seemed to surprise Winter as Steve pulled up to Bucky’s condo complex. He hadn’t meant to go to Bucky’s apartment, but all the talk of him had influenced Steve’s driving subconsciously.

“I don’t know why you stay,” the Winter Soldier finally said to Steve as Steve used his keyfob to gain entry to Bucky’s parking garage. It was opulent to the extreme, and so far removed from where they’d just been that it felt like a disconnect. Steve paused for a second because it wasn’t a question and didn’t really need an answer, but it felt like a small betrayal not to give one.

“Because we all need something normal that keeps us sane,” he finally said.  A few months ago he might have laughed at Bucky Barnes being normal, but Steve’s definition of the term had shifted the more he got to know Bucky.

“He’s Pierce’s son, and he just lets all this happen. You hate people who don’t do their part,” Winter scoffed, pulling his feet off the dash. “Look at all this wealth. Don’t you feel how oppressive it is? The man I met could barely afford his basement studio apartment, and here you are playing boytoy to the 1%. You’ve got to be getting some kind of intel from it – an exclusive inside look?”

“It’s not about getting information,” Steve replied, pulling into Bucky’s second parking spot. Bucky’s car was still there, but that didn’t mean much. Bucky was marginally responsible about not driving under the influence and usually took an Uber out at night. Steve could never be sure if he was home until he unlocked the door of Bucky’s apartment and went looking for him.

“Do you at least get good blowjobs for your sacrifice, or are you just rolling over like—”

“Don’t,” Steve said in a firm voice, gripping Winter’s shoulder. “I respect what you do, but if you continue speaking, I won’t respect you as a person. We’re not friends, and I don’t allow anyone to speak to me like that, or to talk shit about my boyfriend.”

It was hard to read Winter’s expressions behind the mask, and he always kept his body in rigid control. Despite that, Steve got the sense he’d managed to stun the man who put himself in the middle of two sides of a protest. “You’re better than this.”

“I guess not,” Steve told him. “Now get out of my car.”

x.x.x.

“Hi! You’re here!” Bucky said cheerfully as he slipped out of his shoes and then fought his way out of his leather jacket with great difficulty. He swayed a little in the entrance and then used the furniture to help him walk towards Steve. His shirt was ridiculously see-through, and his pants were so low-hung Steve wondered if the only thing keeping them up was his dick.

He looked great.

He practically fell on top of Steve on the couch, nuzzling his head up under Steve’s chin. “Glad I came home,” he said, tucking his hands between Steve’s back and the couch pillow. Then he hummed in contentment.

“Are you high?” Steve asked.

“A little,” Bucky admitted. “Only pot this time. Mostly drunk.”

“Let’s get you to bed,” Steve said in an indulgent tone, leaving his book on top of Bucky’s couch, and moving to lever himself up. Bucky clung to him in a way that hindered his movements.

“No. I want to just stay like this for a moment,” Bucky told him, and somehow held tighter. “My Uber driver was listening to the news on the radio.”

Steve’s hand settled into Bucky’s hair. He was reminded of how sweet Bucky was when they were children. Beneath all the pomp and the ridiculous outfits and the partying, that Bucky was still there.

“I went to your place first,” Bucky admitted. “You weren’t there.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bucky didn’t ask whether Steve had been at the protest. He didn’t need to. They might not have the type of relationship most people thought of when they met Steve, but the Steve who craved commitment and someone to talk to about his interests went out the window the moment Bucky gave him a coy smile and cocked his hip like he knew what Steve needed. Maybe, someday, Steve would worry about not finding those things with Bucky.

He felt at peace in Bucky’s arms, and a lot of Steve’s life wasn’t peaceful.

Bucky made him feel like a normal 20-something.

“I still have a little left if you want to relax,” Bucky offered, wriggling so he could reach into his pocket and pull out a joint. It looked a little sad from being crammed somewhere with absolutely no space. He looked at Steve’s face and seemed satisfied by whatever he saw there. “Get on my level,” he offered with a seductive grin, sitting up and reaching for a lighter. He was so dangerous because he was a temptation Steve wasn’t able to resist indulging in. “Then we can fuck. I haven’t in days,” he said with a roll of his hips and a small hitch of breath.

Steve grasped Bucky’s hip with one hand and took the offered joint with the other.

“Yeah,” Bucky breathed as Steve inhaled. “God, you’re beautiful.”

x.x.x.

Bucky didn’t mind Steve using his computer. He didn’t really have anything to hide, his life an open book, and his taste in porn not something he kept a secret anyway.  Steve never went snooping through his files, but Bucky wasn’t great about closing tabs, so he knew Bucky was considering joining a CycleYoga class and had ordered a new dildo. Not exactly things the FBI would monitor him for.

Steve, on the other hand, tended to write inciteful blog articles and would go down with freedom of the press as it kept getting squashed under what felt like a fascist dictatorship.

He was working for two hours before Bucky wandered into his kitchen completely naked, grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, and finished half of it. He had a bite mark on his shoulder from Steve’s mouth, and didn’t look nearly as hung over as Steve had seen him.

Steve just had enough time to hit save on his article before Bucky was sliding into his lap, showing off his flexibility a little by easily straddling Steve without pulling out the chair. “I love getting you stoned,” he said, scraping his teeth over the curve of Steve’s neck. “You get all lazy and selfish in bed.”

Steve made a face. “How can you love that?”

Bucky grinned, and Steve could feel it against his skin. “You just kind of lie there and let me use your dick and look at me like you can’t believe I exist and you can’t believe any of it is real. Like. You just stare at me in wonder. Usually you’re kind of a take-charge kind of lay, and I like that about you, but…”

“Sometimes you want to do the work?” Steve filled in.

“Yeah. Would you let me fuck you? I kind of wanted to last night, but we never discussed it so I wouldn’t presume.”

“Of course,” Steve replied, pushing Bucky’s laptop back on the table so he could lift Bucky on to it and lean into his space. “Now, if you want.”

Bucky smiled at him the way Steve expected Bucky to smile over getting permission for a new sex position – pleased, like someone who’d been given a fun present to open – but there was something else in his expression that Steve couldn’t put his finger on. Something predatory and intent, less like a fun present and more like the keys to a door that had been firmly locked. “Not now,” he answered, like that took effort. Then the expression was gone in a blink. “That can be something fun for later,” he promised with a nip at Steve’s lower lip. “Come back to bed. I need you.”

[fweeble]

Episode 6: My Lost City

Buckle up, and more importantly, arm yourself with tissue boxes, we’re gonna need it.

Pfffft. Max, when will you ever learn the rest of the lines? (Not that I know them, either.)

*swoons into Mappa’s waiting arms* Gorgeous.

Oh, my heart, look at these cuties sleeping. Shorter, cover your tummy, you’ll get a tummy ache. Q vQ

*cries over how precious these two are* Bless this tiny extra scene.

*blows kisses at Mappa*

I LOVE THIS TINY ADDITION. OF COURSE IBE WOULD TAKE PICTURES. I WISH THEY HAD EIJI TAKING PICTURES TOO.

*swoons even more* Mappa, please, you’re killing me.

*cries some more* I have always loved how gentle Ash is with Jennifer.

Jimmy my dude, why’d ya gotta act like this???? >:T

WOW, this is so tame compared to the mango like. Woah.

This had hurt so much, because we know that Max is a father. He has a son, Michael, that he was trying to fight for custody for, but was convinced that giving up was what was best for his son. Imagine being a father who desperately misses their son, who wants to be in their son’s life, and watching another man treat his son like trash. MY HEART. MAX.

Oh god, Ash’s expression. It hurts so much more than it did before. Mappa, why you gotta do this to meeee. I have a soft, squishy little baby girl heart and it bleeds easily.

Totally my bad: They changed the order. JIMMY WHY YOU GOTTA BE LIKE THIS.

*dying hippo noises* IT STILL KILLS ME. FUCK.

*CRIES*

Jennifer is way too good for you, Jim.

*whispers* It’s so gorgeous.

Ash, please. 8′(

I wish Shorter didn’t have his sunglasses on. I want to see his face. Is he super-imposing Nadia onto Griff in this story. We don’t know anything about Shorter’s past. Did Nadia raise him? I HAVE FEELINGS.

Jennifer. Q AQ <3

*cries* I know. I agree with you entirely, Ash. Oof, I love how gentle he is with her. My heart. Look at that face. Let me pretend the one thing he missed about Cape Cod was Jennifer. Let me pretend she had more influence and was able to help Ash and Griff in little ways. Let me pretend Jennifer is stronger than she probably is. 

My heart.

Ash, why you always gotta be like this, twisting the knives in wounds and pouring salt all over them. It’s not like Max wants to see your painful past, it’s just that y’all need to suffer through it to get what you want --the truth about Banana Fish.

Thank you Mappa for adding this scene! I’m constantly so worried you’ll cut out all the light-hearted bits in exchange for pure drama. Q vQ

My heart. Eiji, your precious face. Q vQ

MAPPA STOP PLAYING WITH MY HEART LIKE A STRESS BALL. It grows two sizes at the sight of Eiji’s adorable face and then is crushed by Ash’s pained one. *clutches chest*

WOW YOU ARE SO RUDE MAPPA. SURE, JUST KEEP ADDING NEW PUNCHES TO THE HEART. NOT LIKE I NEED ONE. NOPE.

*whispers* My secret favorite thing is how close Shorter and Eiji have been. I have protective feelings about these two and Shorter has protective feelings for Eiji.

Sure is him. Is it just me or do they all have surprisingly long hair for military people.

Aaaaand Ash brings out a smart phone. Soogle...Soosle? This is... attempt... #5 for cells trying to save the day. (So far, they never have.)

*strangled noises*

Oh Ibe, you’re so soft with Eiji. You still have the mafia after you guys, you should be yoinking Eiji and heading for the nearest international airport. 

Also... y’all aren’t gonna discuss your Visa difficulties?

Trust me, Ash. They all do. Q vQ

Ash, please. Griff would be their age.

Oh gosh, look at their faces. ‘What exactly set him off this time?’ ‘I dunno. It’s like a horse suddenly raging. Maybe a fly flew into his ear.’

Shhhhh, he’s just young. And cranky.

*strangled sobbing*

Excuse me as I interrupt this weekly Nanner Fish Liveblog to cry about the scenery in the next few seconds of footage:

You are such a liar, Ash. You have very particular feelings towards your home.

*cries more at sleeping cuties*

Ash... this feels like such a waste? Someone spent a lot of time brewing that! Couldn’t you have filled empty ones with water??

*cries more at the sky* Clearly what is gonna make me die of dehydration this episode isn’t what I thought it was gonna be. It’s gonna be the backgrounds. 

Eiji... I know nothing about shooting but that looks super precarious. Your center of gravity looks... yeah. Ash looks so judgmental. Q vQ

Alright, Annie Oakley. You missed a shot too. 

Oh, Ibe. Subtly trying to get Eiji away. 

Not subtle enough, though.

*cries both over the words and the detail put into the sky and the sea*

I’ve always found this surprisingly profound, especially since my mother, a naturalized US citizen, has similar opinions about parents in Taiwan coddling their children. (Taiwan has the same age of majority as Japan, 20 years old.)

And Japan’s crime rate is also a lot lower. But Ash is right, Ibe, you aren’t in Japan and you have very dangerous people with very dangerous guns after you all.

Bless their attention to detail. Lookit the truck!

I love how they have Max fixing the truck! Instead of it getting magically fixed, we get a new tidbit about Max! I wonder if he learned this while serving.

Weeeeeeeeeeeeeell...

When Max is the voice of reason, listen.

Yeeees! It’s finally here! Please forgive me as I spam gyazo and take a hundred pictures because I’ve been waiting for this!

*strangled dying manatee noises*

(Shorter, are you trying to steal Ash’s sandwich while you still have yours.)

(Look at that hand. You totally were, weren’t you. You glutton.)

(Oh, my tiny Grinch heart. Look at this smile. It just grew fifteen sizes.)

(*cries forever* Protecting Eiji is like preserving a vision of himself he could never attain. Putting Eiji on a pedestal and keeping him safe and clean and pure, because he wishes he was Eiji. Excuse me as I have painful flashbacks to Tsuki no Ko and Tirt’s love for Seth.)

BLESS THEM. MY HEART. THEY KEPT THESE LINES.

*sings softly* “I will whisper my name to you: Antonio Salieri: patron saint of mediocrities.”

So you’re keeping this bit but not the Visa part? At least Ibe is keeping some of his old manipulative tendencies when it comes to Eiji.

(”It’s the only way to keep that child safe.” Anyone’s Japanese better than mine who can confirm this is indeed Ibe continuing to view Eiji as a child that needs to be sheltered and not just a cultural barrier?)

And straight back into the coddling, right after the profound revelation.

Jimmy, please. 

Tear him a new one, Eiji!

My heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeart. These two lines. Leave to me to die in this small sea of salt and tears.

Something I will always miss is the loss of Eiji’s poor English. Q vQ

Oh boy, get your tissues ready. It’s here.

(Afghanistan is replacing Korea, huh.)

(*dying manatee noises* Someone, save this poor child.)

(FUCK THESE OFFICERS WITH A CIRCULAR SAW. HOW DARE THEY. TO A CHILD. AN ABUSED CHILD. FUCK THEM.)

(*CRIES*)

(Let me spirit him away to a kinder, gentler world. Like GSNK. Or Kimi to Boku where it’s just boys sorting out their feelings.)

(I WILL NEVER FUCKING UNDERSTAND YOUR THOUGHT PROCESS FOR THIS BUT AT LEAST IT FUCKING SAVED ASH. AT LEAST IT SAVED ASH.)

(HE WITHOUT A DOUBT DESERVED WORSE.)

(THIS SICK BASTARD. CMLKDSMFLDSF.)

(I also super hate the way it’s presented in the anime, so take this small manga panel:

LIKE YES, IT MAKES SENSE, WANTING TO PROTECT YOUR SON FROM THE VICIOUS WORDS PEOPLE SAY SO YOU’D SEND HIM TO HIS AUNT’S...

BUT THAT ABSOLUTELY DOES NOT EXPLAIN OR EXCUSE THE SHIT YOU SLING AT HIM NOW, JIM. MY DUDE, YOU HAVE ALREADY LOST ONE SON. TRY TO SAVE WHAT RELATIONSHIP YOU CAN HAVE WITH YOUR LAST ONE.

Shorter. Shorter. He didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t want anyone to ever know.

*dying manatee noises* Eiji... *strangled noises about leopards and mountains*

Jennifer, you beautiful soul. Why are you with this mess.

No, you listen to Jennifer!

Fuck.

No, Shorter. This is where he’s from. New York is his home.

Yes, good. Thank god.

You’re searching for Ash in the dark. Please take off your shades, Shorter.

Or not.

Shorter, you’re wearing so much more than you were originally in the manga. Q vQ

Look at that. Gorgeous even in the dark. *blows kisses at Mappa*

Good instinct!

Baaaaaaaaaaaad instinct. So bad.

Eiji, no.

He’s got his back pressed against the wall.

Dammit.

Listen to Shorter, Eiji.

They sure fucking did.

It’s so awful that they somehow managed to make this situation even marginally better.

They had ripped off her top in the manga.

It’s entirely possible they did worse. She doesn’t even have her shoes on. D8

Fuck you. Leave Jennifer alone.

*sweats nervously but also blows kisses at Mappa because hnnng I love the way they deal with lighting, lookit the soft glow of the porch lights*

Max has a plan. I love it when Max has plans. Brilliance or hilarity ensues.

JIM’S FACE. Either he just realized his son still loves him or he’s fucking terrified that his son is now in immediate danger. (I think it’s both.)

Oh, Jennifer. You deserve none of this. None of it. Protect her.

Brilliance. That’s what happens today. Brilliance.

FUCKING LISTEN TO SHORTER EIJI.

THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE BECAUSE IN THE MANGA I THOUGHT SHE TRIED TO COVER HIM. BUT THAT ACTUALLY DOESN’T MAKE SENSE SINCE THESE ASSHOLES MAKE IT CLEAR THEY AREN’T TO KILL ASH.

THEY SHOT HER TO MAKE A FUCKING POINT.

JENNIFER.

ASH’S FACE. Nope, this is fine. I was born from water, let me return to the salty depths. 

THERE WAS NO ONE WORD YOU COULD’VE SAID THAT WOULD’VE MADE THIS FUCKING HURT MORE, ASH. *drowns in own tears of feelings*

Don’t fucking see why you’re smiling, asshole.

There, Shorter’s fixed it.

EIJI WHY ARE YOU HERE. SHORTER TOLD YOU TO STAY THERE.

*STRANGLED SOBBING*

YOU SHOULD’VE TREATED HER LIKE A GODDESS, JIM. YOUR LAST WORDS TO HER SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN THOSE A GIANT TANTRUM THROWING CHILD’S.

Ash’s expressions are going to fucking murder me. 

Sir, why don’t you have a cell phone???? Why aren’t you questioning why none of these people haven’t called yet???? (Well, to be fair, this is a panic situation...)

*sobbing* A father’s love.

And a son’s.

MY HEART. *cries* Why couldn’t you have both talked like this from the beginning?????????????????? JIM, YOU GIANT BABY.

Excuse me. I just need to... cry. Lots.

ASH AND HIS FACE. TELL THE POLICE. THEY ARE THE CULPRITS. MY MURDER.

*whispers* You should’ve kept this line to help explain the robbery. And help fund them in LA.

*weeps*

FUCKING DINO.

SO GORGEOUS. I AM SO UPSET.

HALF-TRUTH. ALSO, PLOOOOOOT.

LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. NOOOOOOOOOOOO.

FUCKING NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.

LEEEEEEEE. FUCK YOOOOOU.

Chinatowns are everywhere. |||orz

Fuuuuuuck. Yut Lung is here.

Shorter, please. Beggars can’t be choosers. (Or, those on the run from the Coriscan Mafia can’t whine when they at least have working transportation.)

*whispers softly to Mappa* Chicago, dearests, not Cicago.

Guess they’re cutting out one of the best scenes if this guy’s already here.

*blows kisses at Mappa* Gorgeous.

Still... where in LA are they supposed to be? I think that’s supposed to be downtown, but I don’t remember any forest-y areas around downtown. (Says someone who may live in LA county but rarely goes west towards downtown. Maybe there are. I tend to go east. :V)

The Great Shorter And Ash Chicken Raid. 

You will not be forgotten.

Oof. Stay hydrated, guys! I’m kinda emotionally drained, so I’m off now. |||orz

<<Episode 5                                     Masterlist                                     Episode 7>>

[klaineanummel]

eighteen going on extinct 7/20

Kurt Fabray just wants to relax after a tough week at school, but that is shown to be impossible when he realizes that his absent father has once again blown into town. Not wanting to spend more time around him than necessary, Kurt goes to his old babysitters house, the one place he feels safe when his father is in town. While there, he stumbles upon a secret he knows he was never meant to find out - one that could change the entire course of his life.

An AU very loosely based on Mamma Mia.

Have some ~platonic Klaine y’all ;)

Warnings for Puck being a dick, discussion of alcoholism, and some unrealistic expectations of the US postal services (because Plot)

Previous Chapter |  Read on AO3

Thankfully for Kurt, Puck is still asleep as he gets ready for school. His mom has left him a bagel, already pre-toasted and with margarine on it. Kurt eats it as he heads out the door, not wanting to spend any more time than he needs to alone in the apartment with Puck.

He has his morning schedule down pretty tight, which means he only has to wait a few minutes before the bus arrives at his stop. Kurt flashes his pass at the driver, then slumps into the closest pair of seats. He stays in the aisle seat, placing his backpack beside him.

There had only been about five people on the bus when Kurt got on, but by the time it pulls up to Blaine’s stop the bus is almost full. Kurt’s already received several dirty looks for the way he’s sitting, but he just ignores them. He keeps his eyes on the front of the bus, waiting for Blaine to come in.

When he does, Kurt instantly waves him over. He feels a little bit childish in doing so, but Blaine already has his earphones in, and Kurt doesn’t really feel like shouting across a crowded bus. Thankfully, Blaine sees him, and after showing the driver his bus pass makes his way to where Kurt is sitting.

As soon as he’s in front of him, Kurt shifts to the window seat, picking up his backpack and placing it in his lap. Blaine sits down beside him, taking one earphone out as he does so.

“You didn’t have to save me a spot,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, I know,” Kurt replies. “I did it for me,” he slings his arm over the back of their seats, earning a scowl from the people sitting behind them. “I’d much rather sit with my friend than with any other of these assholes.”

Blaine’s lips tick up, just the tiniest bit, just enough for Kurt to notice. It makes him grin.

“What makes you think we’re friends?” Blaine asks, his neutral expression returning.

Kurt shrugs. “I’ve just decided,” he winks at him, and this time Blaine doesn’t try and stop his smile.

“Okay,” he says. “I mean, I guess I didn’t completely hate texting you the other day,” he says, settling further into his seat. “So, sure. Let’s be friends.”

Kurt grins. “Deal, then.”

The cafeteria is bustling, as it always is, and several tables look full beyond capacity. Kurt’s is empty, though, just him as per usual. A couple of underclassmen try and sit at the other edge of the table, but Kurt glares at them until they leave. He really isn’t in the mood to listen to their whispers of, “Isn’t he the guy who got dumped by Sebastian Smythe?” “What that guy? No way! Sebastian Smythe got into Yale, why would he even go out with that guy?” today.

“You’ve got a killer glare,” Blaine’s voice says. Kurt looks up to see Blaine setting his lunch bag on the table and sliding into the seat across from Kurt.

Kurt smirks. “I learned from the best,” he says. Then, because he realizes Blaine doesn’t know who he’s talking about, clarifies, “My mom.”

“She sounds terrifying,” Blaine admits.

Kurt chuckles. “Yeah, says the guy with the burly mechanic for a father. I bet the reason you don’t date is because you know he’d strangle any guy you brought home with his bare hands.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow. His lips do that thing where he barely smiles. Kurt hates when he does that. It makes his heart beat about twenty times faster.

“I never said I don’t date,” Blaine says, the smile growing into a smirk. “I just said I wouldn’t date you.”

“Ouch,” Kurt puts a hand to his chest. “That hurts, Blaine.”

Blaine chuckles, opening his bag. He pulls a sandwich out, unwrapping it slowly, then taking a huge bite. He keeps his eyes down, chewing carefully.

He slowly raises his eyes after he’s done chewing, looking at Kurt almost pensively. Kurt narrows his eyes at him. “What?”

Blaine shrugs, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Just,” he starts after he’s swallowed, “trying to figure out why everyone seems to think you weren’t good enough for that Simon guy.” Kurt raises an eyebrow at him, to which Blaine replies by shrugging again. “What? I’ve been at this school for a week, and that seems to be all anybody can talk about.”

“I know,” Kurt grumbles. He rests his elbow on the table and his chin in his hand. “It’s annoying, isn’t it? You’d think there’d be a more interesting piece of gossip by now.”

“So, what’s the deal with it, then? I wasn’t here last year, I don’t even know who this guy was. Was he an Olympic gold medalist or something? Did he cure cancer?”

Kurt shakes his head. “He was rich,” he says. “And his name was Sebastian, not Simon,” Blaine shrugs, and it makes Kurt smile. “I don’t know, he was rich and popular. He was hot, he played a lot of sports, he was captain of basically every club in school.”

“Ah,” Blaine nods slowly. “So it’s elitism.”

“I think it’s more that everyone was mad Sebastian decided to slum it with me instead of them,” Kurt says, repeating what his mom had told him back when he first started dating Sebastian. “Also, everyone hates me.”

“Why?” Blaine asks.

Kurt gives him a level stare. “Why did you hate me when you first met me?”

Blaine stares right back. “Because I was purposefully ignoring you and you didn’t take the hint. I thought, you know, maybe you wouldn’t take the hint with other stuff, too.”

“Oh,” Kurt says, surprised at his honesty. “Well, clearly I changed your mind with my chivalrous ways.”

Blaine snorts. “You’re not exactly what I picture when I think of chivalry.”

“It’s the nose ring, right? It throws off my whole image.”

Blaine chuckles at that, then takes another bite of his sandwich. “So, everyone’s jealous because you got to bang the hottest guy in school?”

“Pretty much,” Kurt says. “And now they’re all up on their high horse because they all said he would eventually realize he was too good for me and leave me, and then he did. So now they feel entitled to whisper behind my back and give me weird looks in the hallway.”

“Does it bother you?”

Their eyes meet, and Kurt is struck by just how fucking huge Blaine’s are. Gold and gorgeous. He looks like some kind of cartoon prince.

“I mean, I already hated everyone in this school, so I don’t really care what they think.”

Blaine’s foot taps his under the table. His eyebrows raise, and it makes those damn eyes look even bigger.

“Fine,” he says, glancing around to make sure nobody is paying attention. “Yeah, it annoys me. These people think they’re better than me, and that pisses me off. Like, I know I’m not a model citizen or whatever, but I get good grades and I don’t start shit with anybody. I leave them alone, they leave me alone, that’s always been the unspoken policy. Now everyone thinks they can get up in my business because I had the nerve to date someone they deemed ‘superior’ to me.”

“Dicks,” is all Blaine says, and for some reason it makes Kurt laugh. “Whatever, you don’t need them. You have the best friend in the world right here,” he says, pointing to himself.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says. “I’ve just decided,” and winks, just like Kurt did on the bus.

Blaine catches up to Kurt at his locker after the final bell, and they start their walk to the bus stop together. Of course, they don’t get much further than the front steps of the school before Kurt hears Rachel calling his name and sees her frantically waving at him from the parking lot. Finn is with her, and he has a large envelope in his hand.

Kurt’s eyes widen.

“Um, I don’t think I’m taking the bus home today,” he tells Blaine.

Blaine nods. “Cool. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Kurt says, giving Blaine a smile to let him know he isn’t trying to blow him off. “Or you can text me. You have my number.”

“Of course,” Blaine says. He waves a little, then continues toward the bus stop, while Kurt starts to walk toward Finn and Rachel.

When he reaches them, the first words out of his mouth are, “It’s here already?”

“I know, we were surprised, too,” Rachel says. She glances up at Finn, then back to Kurt. “We were thinking we could come with you. You know, to get Puck’s sample.”

Kurt’s heart stops. “Um,” he clears his throat. “Is that really a good idea?”

“Yeah,” Finn says. “Better than you having to deal with it alone. He may put up less of a fight if we’re there.”

“Or more of a fight,” Kurt says. “I don’t know, guys. He really doesn’t like you.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” Rachel says, nose going up in the air. Finn elbows her gently, and she quickly says, “That doesn’t matter, though. We’re doing this for you. For your safety.”

“And for Quinn’s,” Finn adds, and Rachel nods instantly.

“And for Quinn’s.”

Kurt glances between them, then, after a few seconds, nods. “Okay,” he says. “Just, you know, know that you’re entering the belly of the beast. I’ve always known this would be the hardest part of all this.”

“We know,” Finn says. “Which is why we don’t want you doing it alone.”

Rachel reaches forward and squeezes Kurt’s hand, and Kurt smiles.

“Thanks, guys,” he says. “Really.”

“Of course,” Rachel says. “Besides, we figured you wouldn’t complain about getting a ride home instead of having to bus.”

“You’re definitely right about that,” Kurt says, then follows them to their car, climbing into the backseat.

By the time they reach Kurt’s apartment, Kurt is really starting to worry that this was a bad idea. As much as he appreciates the support, he’s getting surer and surer that Finn and Rachel’s presence will trigger Puck’s anger.

They park in the tiny visitor’s lot and head in together, Finn and Rachel continuously looking around, appraising their surroundings.

“This place is definitely nicer than where you were when we’d babysit you,” Rachel comments as they walk into the building.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Kurt shrugs. “We’ve been here since mom got the Store Manager position at the bakery. Perks of getting a living wage.”

Of course, that living wage doesn’t do much to help the insane amount of debt they racked up when she wasn’t making a living wage, but at least they no longer have to decide between having dinner or having heat.

They walk up the stairs, Kurt’s heart speeding up in his ribcage.

They reach Kurt’s apartment, and he unlocks the door quickly, pushing it open. “Hey,” he calls out.

“Wow, you’re home already?” he hears his mom. “Did you get out early or-”

She stops as she appears in the hallway, eyes wide at the sight of who’s with him.

“I got a ride,” Kurt says, gesturing to Finn and Rachel.

“I see,” Quinn says. “You know, Kurt, now isn’t really the best time for guests.”

“Oh, we aren’t staying long,” Rachel says, smiling far too sweetly. “We’re just here to swab up some of Puck’s DNA, and then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Quinn’s jaw sets and her hands ball into fists. “Look,” she says. “I don’t know what Kurt told you, but-”

“Hey, babe,” Puck’s voice interrupts, “can you shut the door? It’s getting chilly in here.”

He walks out behind her, then freezes as his eyes set on Finn and Rachel.

“What the fuck are you two shitheads doing here?”

“Puck!” Quinn says, instantly turning to him with wide eyes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Do you actually want an answer to that?” Kurt jabs. “Because I could list about twenty things off the top of my head.”

“Watch it,” Puck says, pointing a threatening finger at him. “You two, fuck off.”

“You don’t get to tell them to leave,” Kurt says. “You don’t live here.”

“Okay, fine. Quinn, tell them to fuck off.”

“Actually,” Rachel pipes up. “We’ll, um, ‘fuck off,’ as you so eloquently put it, in just a second. We just need one little thing, then we’ll be on our way.”

“Okay, then get it and get out.”

Finn opens the envelope, pulling out a small baggie with a cotton swab. “Can you dab this against your cheek?”

Puck glances between all of them. Quinn drops her face into her hands.

“What?”

“We just need a bit of your DNA,” Finn says, far calmer than Kurt feels. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“The fuck you need my DNA for?”

Nobody says anything for a second, then Kurt takes a deep breath and says, “It’s for a paternity test.”

Fury overtakes Puck’s eyes in a second. “Excuse me?!”

“I think you heard me,” Kurt replies, hand shaking a little.

“Fuck off,” he says. “I ain’t giving you shit.”

“Come on, Puck-”

“No, Berry, I said fuck off.” He turns to Kurt. “Look, I know you’ve got it out for me, or whatever, but this is too much. You have a serious attitude problem, and-”

“I said it was okay.”

Everyone freezes at the sound of Quinn’s voice. Kurt turns to her, and finds her glaring daggers at him. She mouths, “You owe me,” before turning back to Puck.

“It’s okay, babe. Just swab your cheek, it’s no big deal. They’re just wasting their money trying to prove something I’ve reiterated a million times. Just let them. Who cares.”

Puck stares down at her, and Kurt glances down to see his mom gripping Puck’s wrist tightly. He almost smiles but manages to stop himself.

There’s silence for a few moments, and Kurt could swear his heart is beating so loudly that everyone can hear it.

Finally, Puck says, “Fine,” and reaches over Quinn to grab the baggie out of Finn’s hand. He pulls the swab out and dabs it into his mouth. Then, he drops it back in the bag. “There. Satisfied?”

“Yep,” Finn says, taking the bag back and dropping it in the envelope. He then pulls another one out, this cotton swab blue, and hands it to Kurt.

Kurt swabs his cheek and gives it back.

“Great,” Finn says, dropping that back in the envelope as well. “Well, this was fun. Puck, always great to see you.” Puck flips him off. “Quinn…” he pauses, then shakes his head. “It’s been too long. Don’t be a stranger.”

She doesn’t reply, just steps a little closer to Puck.

Finn claps his hand onto Kurt’s shoulder. “We’ll see you soon, okay?”

Kurt nods, smiling in thanks. Rachel takes his hand briefly and squeezes it, and then they’re gone, disappearing down the hall and out the stairwell door.

He closes the door behind them, then turns back to his mom and Puck. “That was fun, huh?” he asks, trying to act less terrified than he currently feels.

“You little shit-”

“Hey,” Quinn puts a hand up, stopping Puck from advancing on Kurt. “It’s done, okay? They’re gone. Calm down.”

“You have some nerve,” Puck says, ignoring her, furious gaze still focused on Kurt. “Bringing them in here, demanding a paternity test? You really think you’re the shit, don’t you?”

“Are you upset?” Kurt asks, bringing a mocking hand up to his chest. “But, I thought you’d be happy! If I’m not your son, that means you can stop sending us your yearly child support check.”

“Listen-”

“No, you both listen,” Quinn snaps. “I don’t want to hear another word about this until the results come in, got it?” She glares between them, then focuses the glare on Puck. “Got it?”

He sends one last glare Kurt’s way, then shakes his head and pushes past her and Kurt, opening the door and disappearing through it, slamming it shut behind him hard enough to make Kurt and Quinn wince.

“He took that well.”

Quinn shakes her head. “I can’t believe you would ambush me like that,” she says. “You couldn’t have sent me a warning text? Hey mom, Finn and Rachel are with me, we’re going to demand some of Puck’s DNA for that paternity test you told me you didn’t want.”

Kurt frowns at the way she pitches her voice higher to imitate him. “Do I really sound like that?”

“Kurt,” she snaps. “I stood up for you just now, but don’t take that as a sign that I think any of this is okay. I am absolutely furious at you.”

“Then why did you even bother standing up for me? You never do around him, anyway.”

His mom’s jaw tightens. “I didn’t do it for you,” she says. “I did it for Finn, and for Rachel. I didn’t like the look in Puck’s eye.”

“So you were worried he’d get violent.”

“Kurt, I’ve known Puck since I was eleven years old. Yes, I was worried he’d get violent. Just because I know he won’t hurt you or me doesn’t mean I’m naïve enough to think he won’t hurt anyone,” she shakes her head. “You know how he gets about Finn especially.”

“Yeah, he really hates it that Finn was like a father to me when he fucked off, doesn’t he?”

His mom runs her hands through her hair, shaking her head. “Look,” she says. “Just… fuck, Kurt, I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m at my wit's end! I obviously can’t force you and your dad to get along, but for god’s sake-”

“He isn’t my dad! Stop saying that!”

“Yes, he is, Kurt!” She shouts, hands balled into fists. “Oh, my god, it’s like talking to a brick wall!”

Kurt shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the front door. Quinn closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then pushes her hair out from in front of her face.

They stand in silence for what feels like years. Kurt can feel his throat drying, the way it always does when he feels like he’s about to cry.

“I hate fighting with you,” he admits, sniffling back his tears. “I hate how much we fight when he’s around.”

His mom sniffles as well, and when Kurt looks up he sees that her eyes have gone red. He hurries to her, pulling her into his arms just before she lets out a sob.

“I don’t know what to do, Kurt,” she says into his shoulder, words warbled by her cries. “You’re… you’re the most important people in my life, Kurt, and I – I – I don’t know what to do.”

He holds her closer and lets her cry.

Kurt’s been holed up in his room for almost four hours, and is getting ready to go to sleep, when he hears the front door opening. He gets off his bed, dropping his laptop on his desk as he goes, and leans against his door, trying to hear through.

“Where’d you go?” he hears his mom ask.

“Just had to get away from here,” Puck slurs, and Kurt’s eyes widen.

“Are you drunk?” His mom practically shrieks, voicing Kurt’s internal thoughts. “Puck, what the hell, you know you can’t-”

“Oh, lighten up. I just had a couple of beers, it’s fine.”

Kurt brings a hand up to his doorknob, ready to pull it open and let Puck have it. He stops, though, when his mom beats him to the punch.

“It’s not fine, Puck, you’re an alcoholic! You can’t just have a few beers, you’ll-”

“Oh, my god, Q, if I wanted to hear you squawk at me I would have married you.”

Kurt shakes his head, hands clenching at his side. God, what the fuck does his mom see in this guy?

“You’re unbelievable,” Quinn says. “You know, I stick up for you with Kurt. I always stick my neck out, I beg him to be nice to you, and then you go and pull this shit…”

“Hey,” Puck says, voice raising slightly. “Hey,” he repeats, this time quieter. “Is he really not my son?”

“What? That is not what we’re talking about right now, Puck.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I not allowed to be upset about the fact that the kid I thought was my son for seventeen years might not be? Excuse the fuck out of me, Quinn.”

“Go to bed, Puck,” she says, her voice exhausted. “Just… we’ll talk about this tomorrow. Just go to bed.”

Kurt almost wants Puck to argue. He wants him to get angry. He wants Puck to mouth off. He wants him to give Kurt an excuse to punch his stupid face in.

Instead, he hears nothing except the quiet click of a door closing, and his mom sighing and dropping onto the couch.

Chapter Eight

[your-dungeon-is-problematic]

Centaur (AD&D)

Yet another creature cribbed from Greek myth, where they were all rapacious drunken wild men who would rampage through the countrysides in whirlwind orgies of sex and violence, except for Chiron, who was pretty much the only decent centaur. So, you’d think centaurs would be perfect for yet another “they’re evil bandits, kill them, kill them all” sort of entry in the Monstrous Manual, right? WRONG! See, they look more human than orcs or hobgoblins or kobolds (at least, from the waist up), and beings so human-like could not possibly be evil, right? Though having said that, they might still be just a little evil, in a manner the writers of this book probably didn’t intend...

General: “Centaurs are woodland beings who shun the company of men. They dwell in remote, secluded glades and pastures. The appearance of a centaur is unmistakable: they have the upper torso, arms, and head of a human being and the lower body of a large, powerful horse. Centaurs speak their own language and some among them (about 10%) can converse in the tongue of elves.” Well! Short, sweet, to the point. Though it is a little odd that they don’t speak common. Hell, only a minority of them bothered to learn Elvish. I wonder why Elvish, though? COULD THEY BE ESTABLISHING A THEME? Yes, yes they are, but first...

Combat: “A band of centaurs is always armed, and the leaders carry shields.” ...That’s a little bit of an ominous way to put it, isn’t it? “Always armed”? I mean I suppose an adventuring party doesn’t have any room to talk, since your average D&D party even at low levels has enough weaponry to besiege a small town, but are there no centaur civilians? And don’t they ever get tired of carrying their weapons? I suppose in theory they could utilize their own horse-backs for cargo transportation purposes, but the illustration up top is clearly an invocation of some kind of nubile noble savage archetype, what with the complete and utter nudity. “Half of the centaurs will be wielding oaken clubs (the equivalent of morning stars), one quarter will carry composite bows and have 10-30 arrows (either flight or sheaf, depending on the current state of affairs in the area). The remainder of the band will be leaders (AC4; HD5) using medium shields and medium horse lances.” Okay, see, again, the wooden clubs and the bows and arrows are again sort of tying into an implied “enlightened nature-loving savage” theme, like elves (COUGH COUGH) only even more so, and yet the leaders have medium shields and horse lances, like medieval knights. Like, alright, if you want to go for the jousting imagery, because they are, in fact, literal horsemen, it doesn’t make sense to me to have the leaders and only the leaders being knights if the rest of their society isn’t at that same level of cultural development. Though that’s just me. “Centaurs make 3 attacks each round in melee: once with their weapons and twice with their hooves.” Oh, shit. Like, no joke, that’s nothing to scoff at. Taking a horse hoof to the head will seriously ruin your day, perhaps the rest of your life.

Habitat/Society: “Centaurs are sociable creatures, taking great pleasure in the society of others of their kind. Their overall organization is tribal, with a tribe divided into family groups living together in harmony. The size of the tribe varies, it range [sic] from 3-4 families to upwards of 20 families. Since males have the dangerous roles of hunter and protector, females outnumber males by two to one.” ...Wait, wait, females are twice as numerous as males, just because the men are the hunters and warriors? The turnover rate is that fucking high? What the shit? When the gender imbalance is that high, I don’t care how conservative and traditionalist these centaurs are, you need to start getting some warrior women up in here. “The centaur mates for life, and the entire tribe participates in the education of the young.” So the children are raised by the tribe as a whole, and yet we still have separate gender roles, with the men hunting and warring, and the women doing...everything else, I guess? “The lair is located deep within a forest, and consists of a large, hidden glade and pasture with a good supply of running water. Depending upon the climate, the lair may contain huts or lean-tos to shelter the individual families. Centaurs are skilled in horticulture, and have been known to cultivate useful plants in the vicinity of their lair. In dangerous, monster infested areas, centaurs will sometimes plant a thick barrier of tough thorn bushes around their lair and even set traps and snares. In the open area, away from the trees, are hearths for cooking and warmth. If encountered in their lair, there will be 1-6 additional males, females equal to twice the number of males, and 5-30 young. The females (3 Hit Dice) and the young (1-3 Hit Dice) will fight only with their hooves, and only in a life or death situation.” Okay, okay, hold up, hold up. First of all, it’s a little creepy how you keep referring to them very clinically. “Males”, “females”, and especially “young”. They’re children, for God’s sake. Second of all, WHAT THE FUCK WHY ARE YOU PROVIDING THE HIT DIE FOR THE FUCKING CHILDREN ARE YOU FUCKING EXPECTING A FUCKING GAMING GROUP IS GOING TO FUCKING GO OUT OF THEIR FUCKING WAY TO FUCKING MURDER CHILDREN Third of all, why are the women unarmed? Like, if they’re the ones handling the horticulture, and they pretty much have to be if the men are out hunting and/or fighting, they should at least have gardening or farming tools that could serve as makeshift weapons. “Centaurs survive through a mixture of hunting, foraging, fishing, agriculture and trade. Though they shun dealings with humans, centaurs have been known to trade with elves, especially for food and wine. The elves are paid from the group treasury, which comes from the booty of slain monsters.” That’s...there’s an, um, an unfortunate little problem, with this concept. Well, more like a pair of problems, rather. And less “little” and more “gigantic”. So, first of all, they shun dealings with humans, but they trade with elves? Why? Do they just scoff at humans not being “close enough to nature”, or whatever? If someone is willing to trade you for a fair price, why not deal with them? What’s with these strange forest sanctions? Secondly, all of their money in their treasury comes from “the booty of slain monsters”??? Excuse me? Like, okay, granted, what the writers deem a “monster” is a far looser set of criteria than what I use, obviously, but usually I deem a monster to be some kind of nonsapient and usually supernatural man-eating creature, of some sort. Now most animals have absolutely no concept of the value of money, and so have no reason to keep any on their person. So obviously, the “monsters” that they slay must have enough higher reasoning to utilize currency. Going by the other examples given in the book, then I would presume the “monsters” that they slay are orcs, goblins, kobolds, and other fully sapient, thinking creatures capable of reason, even if they aren’t often portrayed as such. So, basically the centaurs straight-up murder any orc who wanders into their territory, presumably, given the extreme isolationist xenophobia on display by these centaurs, even the ones who were honestly simply lost in the woods, and take their money for their treasury. That is a lot of forest murder in order to generate enough revenue to pay elvish traders. Inter-polity economics don’t come cheap! I mean, they don’t think to sell any surpluses they might have from the hunting, foraging, fishing, or agriculture mentioned at the beginning of the same paragraph?? Their monetary economy is literally dependent upon there regularly being enough orcs (or other sapient humanoids who lack a sufficient amount of physical beauty) who wander into the woods, maliciously or otherwise, where the centaurs then murder them and take their stuff. That is not a way to generate long-lasting revenue for your economy, that’s a good way for anybody with half a brain stem to notice, “Oh hey, I know of at least 15 people who went into those woods and were never ever heard from again, maybe let’s avoid them.” I mean, again, I suppose adventuring parties have no room to talk in the arena of “killing people and taking their stuff”, but at least those are small groups of individuals, not whole tribal communities large enough to trade with developed elvish states.  “The territory of a centaur tribe varies with its size and the nature of the area it inhabits. Centaurs are also not above sharing a territory with elves.” M-multiculturalism? Could it be? For once, an instance where two races live peaceably in a cosmopolitan mix of people? “The attitude of a centaur toward a stranger in its territory will vary with the visitor. Humans and dwarves will usually be asked to leave in a polite manner, while halflings or gnomes will be tolerated, and elves will be welcome.” Oh. No. It’s just centaurs being racist pricks towards anyone who isn’t an elf, who for some bizarre reason are apparently the only species the centaurs see as equals?? Like, the language of them “tolerating” gnomes and halflings suggests a sort of intolerance, ironically enough. Like, if a gnome or halfling wanted to live among centaurs, for whatever reason, it seems that they’d quickly become a second-class citizen within the tribe. But hey, at least they’re not one of those nasty humans or industrial-minded dwarves. God forbid even a single tree be felled to fuel a hearth. Hearths that centaurs have in their forest lairs, according to this same article. ...How does the smoke not give them away, I wonder? I just noticed that. “Monsters will be dealt with in a manner according to the threat they represent to the welfare and survival of the tribe. Were a giant or dragon to enter the territory, the centaurs would pull up stakes and relocate, while trolls and orcs and their like will be killed.” Ah. Mm. Right. Okay. So. If a tribe of orcs, desperately searching for a land they can call their own, settle in your forest, because you’ve been hiding out in your secret special awesome secret glade and haven’t bothered to make it clear that these lands are already taken, you would prefer to murder them all in lieu of peaceable diplomatic negotiations beneficial to all involved?  Oh, wait, right, these orcs will probably have cash. How else are you going to buy some sweet elvish brandy if you don’t murder these orcs, men, women, and children, all, to get your hands on their pocket change? Of course, the fact that they would move out of their forest if a giant or dragon came to town kind of makes their tree-hugging isolationist xenophobia ring a little hollow. It comes off as like, “This is OUR forest, and we shall defend its boughs until our hearts beat their last! Unless you’re bigger than us, in which case, fuck it, we’ll find another forest. There’s plenty, who even cares?” Like, okay, dragons are a pretty hard to deal with problem, granted, but if it’s just the one giant, at least he can’t fly like the dragon can, and I doubt he can outrun you, so if you just did the horse-archer schtick and hit-and-fade a bunch you could probably drive him off, if you all worked together. But then, if you wanted to be most effective in this regard, you’d really, really want to abandon your tradition of having your women be near-total noncombatants, despite outnumbering the men two-to-one. There is strength in numbers, especially when we’re talking about having enough arrows to blot out the sun. “Centaurs will take the treasure of their fallen foes, and are fully aware of its value. Most male centaurs have a small coin supply, while the tribe has a treasury which may well include some magical items. Leaders will have twice the normal individual treasure. This treasure is used to buy food for the group, or to ransom (90% likely) captured or threatened members of the tribe.” So you don’t mint your own money, you take it off of people that you kill. And if you have enough money that most male centaurs have a coin purse, on top of the previously-mentioned treasury, and this supplies you with a not-insignificant amount of magical items, I again must ask: how many people are you guys murdering?! Because with the wealth you have been described as having, and given the one way that the reader has been informed that you collect it, that means that you either have killed one particularly wealthy orc, or, far more likely, have been murdering hundreds, if not thousands of orcs over the years, and rifling through their pockets for change.  And worse yet, this isn’t just one centaur tribe, this is every centaur tribe, since this is an entry for the species as a whole. Every centaur tribe has a fairly substantial treasury funded by the dead bodies of orcs who may well have simply made the mistake of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, because as you’ll recall, the centaurs’ policy towards orcs in their forests is strictly of the “shoot first, ask questions never” variety. “While basically neutral or chaotic good, centaurs have been known to become rowdy, boorish, and aggressive when under the influence of alcohol. They are also extremely protective of their females and young.” ...So, a species of strangely forest-obsessed frat-bros? “Centaurs are basically pastoral, but will react with violence if their lifestyle and survival is threatened.” Alright, that seems reasonable in theory, and yet so far the examples provided of them acting violent towards intruders don’t seem to be justified by this line of thought. What do these centaurs see as a “threat to their lifestyle and survival?” Because it seems that they believe that you are a threat to their lifestyle or survival by dint of being born an orc, in a lot of cases. If a human or dwarf whom they “politely asked to leave” then refused to leave as asked, would the human or dwarf then become a threat to their lifestyle or survival, too?? They kind of come across as racist Luddites.

Ecology: “The centaur lives in close harmony with nature and spends its lifetime carefully conserving the natural resources around its lair. The race seems to have an innate knowledge of how to achieve this precious balance.” Though with the way they treat non-elves, it certainly doesn’t seem that they’re willing to share any knowledge about the subject to anybody who doesn’t already know it. I mean, some protectors of nature you’ve turned out to be, if you don’t bother to teach others how you manage to do it so efficiently, even though that would be the most effective way of preserving the environment, by spreading your techniques. “If forced to chop down a tree, a centaur will plant another to replace it. Centaurs never over hunt or over fish an area as a human group might do, but choose their game with care, limiting the amount they eat.” Ah. Do you also have proper birth control? Because if the answer is no, if your population growth is positive, then it doesn’t matter how much you limit the amount you eat, your population will eventually outstrip your ability to acquire food in a sustainable manner, and you’ll have to look to outside sources, which means you’ll need a source of income, which means you’ll go on another pogrom against orcs, goblins, kobolds, or anybody else who doesn’t look like you and whom you assume “was probably up to no good, anyhow”, because your economy is LITERALLY SUSTAINED BY HATE CRIMES.

Overall: Okay, like, I know it wasn’t the intent of the writers, because they themselves were working with the assumption that orcs were either evil to a man, or the exceptions were so rare that it wouldn’t be worth it to give any random orc your run across the benefit of the doubt, but from a more nuanced perspective where no, not every orc is a bloodthirsty evil psychopathic maniac who would attempt to murder you as soon as look at you, then their entire economy is literally founded on hate crimes. To these centaurs, orcs, who have Intelligence scores, and therefore are sapient, and have all the free will that any other sapient species does and can choose not to be evil, are simply monsters that can be killed, their corpses rifled through for money and trinkets to throw on the community money pile. That attitude combined with their haughty disdain for humans and dwarves, and what seems to be only thinly-veiled disdain for halflings and gnomes, makes them seem less like wise and noble guardians of the forest, and more like xenophobic isolationist racist Luddites who will murder you for looking funny while also being on their property, which they apparently don’t mark, considering they live in secret glades while the men go out and stalk the woods for “intruders”, intruders who probably didn’t know that this forest was already occupied because nobody bothered to warn a guy, first. And their weird nonsensical misogyny is just a topper on a cake of horrible. Like, there’s a trope called “Men Are The Expendable Gender”, but I don’t think that trope should be in play when men are literally so scarce that they are outnumbered by women two-to-one. It does not make sense. All in all, their alignment being “Chaotic Good” is nothing short of baffling. The most “good” they do is living in a way that is environmentally friendly. A way that they have not deigned to share with “polluters” like humans and dwarves, despite that if they lived like you, you wouldn’t have any reason to disdain them, and the only way they’d learn these secrets, it seems, is if you bothered to get off your high horse and teach them a thing or two, you jackasses!

...So yeah, they need a rewrite. The drunken marauders would almost be better, quite frankly, because at least their violence was fueled by hedonistic drunken revelry, and not hate-crimes with a monetary goal.

[classicdaisycalico]

The Final Hour...(before the new year, that is)

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE! In the spirit of the event, I wrote an obligatory New Year’s fanfic, now with 66.7% more Italian lessons for the first time in...well, fuck. Has it really been almost 6 months?

“Per favore” = “Please” “Grazie” = “Thank You” “E” = “and” “Mi dispiace” = “I’m sorry” “Felice anno nuovo” = “Happy new year”

Here’s to a better year in 2017 than the 366 days of certified bullshit that was last year’s Year Of Murder. I hope this lifts everybody’s spirits a bit, and as always, let me know your thoughts!

11:00 The giant clock tower in Toad Town signaled an hour before the new year. People and creatures of all kinds crowded Main Street as they anxiously awaited the ball drop. Some were brandishing goofy hats and noisemakers. Others were happily chatting away with friends and discussing their New Year's resolutions. However, one individual wasn't quite feeling the spirit of New Year's Eve. Over by the park off Main Street, Luigi sat on a bench, watching the annual New Year's Open Mic Night. The least he could do was get out of the house at some point, so he wasn't feeling completely isolated. Of course, he wasn't alone the year before. That year, he and Mario watched a New Year's special on TV with Toad and Yoshi at their house and welcomed the new year by singing a rather loud rendition of "Auld Lang Syne". But this year, Peach invited the brothers to join her on Main Street where all the festivities were held. Normally, Luigi wouldn't mind much, since he hardly ever felt third-wheeled by the two of them. Then he remembered: it was a tradition for couples to kiss on New Year's Eve. And there was no way he was getting in the way of his brother and Peach, especially since they were basically a thing already. In the meantime, Toad was trying to find Dr. Toadley's intern somewhere in the crowd back on Main Street, after crushing on her for months. Yoshi wasn't even in Toad Town this year. Instead, he opted to stay back on the island where he resided with the rest of his kind, though he did say something about Birdo stopping by. Even Peasley had finally found a steady boyfriend in a Beanish citizen named Lenny Till over in the Beanbean Kingdom, according to the Prince's latest letter. As for Daisy, she was in Sarasaland, in a completely different time-zone, 5 hours ahead, to be specific. And given Luigi's status as a seventh (potentially ninth) wheel, he missed her terribly.

***

11:10 The least he could do to keep his mind busy was focus on the current performers on the park stage. Right now, a few Toads and a Shy Guy in soda tab chainmail were shuffling along to a musical number from "Spamalot". Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, Luigi saw Mario, Peach, and a familiar figure in a light blue, Middle Ages-inspired dress behind them...

"Guess who just poofed into the middle of Main Street to visit us on New Year's?!" Mario asked as he finally reached his brother.

From behind Peach, Rosalina floated over to the bench. "Hello, Luigi. It's nice to see you. I was looking forward to coming down here tonight, though I was not expecting there to be so many people here..." "I see the Open Mic Night is in full swing," Peach observed as she sat next to Luigi on the park bench. "What's going on right now?" "Some 'Spamalot' number with lots of tap-dancing," he answered. "Is that real chainmail those Toads are wearing?!" the Queen of the cosmos gasped. "It must be incredibly cumbersome to waddle around in something so heavy..." "Oh, no, it's just soda tabs," Mario replied. "Hey, I think Toad has a friend performing in this later. Why isn't he here?" "Maybe he's still looking for Dr. Toadley's intern," Luigi said as he got off the bench. "I'm gonna try and find him. Hopefully he hasn't lost track of time..." As he sprinted away, Peach called out to him, "We'll save your spot on the bench!" *** 11:30 Twenty minutes passed by, but after barreling through the crowded Main Street, there was no sign of Toad anywhere. As Luigi sat on a bench at a nearby bus stop, the phone in his pocket vibrated. It was a text from Peach. No, Mario. It read: Forgot my phone at home! Can you pick it up, per favore? Grazie, M. E mi dispiace :( Well, at least it gave Luigi something else to do besides worrying about being a ninth wheel. Off he went in pursuit of the pipe that lead him back to just outside their house, all the way at the other end of Main Street. Thankfully, the pipe wasn't far, as long as he ran and not walked... *** 11:40 The clock on the microwave in the kitchen greeted Luigi with 20 minutes left until the new year. He quickly glanced over the countertop only to find no phone, so he walked into the dining room. Sure enough, it was on the table next to a red mug. A little white light near the top of the screen was blinking. He pressed the power button, and the screen lit up, revealing 5 missed calls. As Luigi put the phone in his pocket, the landline began ringing back in the kitchen. He dashed back over and checked the caller ID. It was Daisy! "Hello?" "Luigi?" Daisy's voice rang through the phone. "Is that you? Wow! What an awesome surprise!" "What are you doing calling 20 minutes before the new year?" "Well, I tried calling Mario several times, but he never picked up, so I tried your home phone, instead!" "He asked me to get his phone for him. Everyone else is on Main Street in Toad Town about to watch the ball drop." "You guys have a ball drop?" "It's not as huge as the one in Times Square, but it exists. It's just smaller, and it has a 'disco ball with Christmas lights' thing happening." "Christmas lights AND a disco ball? That sounds a bit superfluous." "It's actually not! The glass is recycled. And the glowy crystal thing is a little pricey, so we went with Christmas lights, instead. I'd show you, but–" Luigi's eyes widened as the realization hit him. If she stayed up for the festivities back in her own kingdom, why would Daisy call him close to5 am where she was and not even sound tired? "Daisy, why did you call Mario?" he asked. There was a brief silence on the other end. "...Well," she finally replied, "I wanted to surprise you guys by dropping by to ring in the new year with all of you!" "But I thought you already did that back in Sarasaland! You're not tired, are you?" "They were broadcasting our New Year's Eve special in the airport." "But you're a five hour flight west of us! There's no way you would have gotten here by midnight!" "Not if you take a Concord. They get you wherever you need to go in half the time. It would have left earlier, but there were a few delays, including my flight." "But you've definitely touched down by now, right? Where are you?" The line went dead, but someone knocked on the door. Luigi's phone suddenly vibrated in his pocket. What greeted him was a message from Daisy: Check your front door :) He hung up the landline and sprinted to the door. When he opened it, there she was with the biggest grin on her face. "I told you," she said. "I wanted to surprise you!" "And you did," he exclaimed, with a grin equally as big. "Everyone else is in the park off of Main Street!" He locked the front door and grabbed her hand. "Wait until they hear about this!" *** 11:50 According to Peach's phone, ten minutes remained until midnight, but Luigi was nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, her phone began ringing. She checked the caller ID, and sure enough, it was him! "Hello?" "We're just outside the park," Luigi began. "Are you still at the bench?" "We were about to head back out to Main Street before you called," she answered. "And what do you mean 'we'? Is somebody else with you?" "Did he find Toad?" Mario asked. He stood up on the bench. "Rosalina, you're really tall. Do you see Luigi anywhere in the park right now? And is anyone with him?" She floated up just a little. "I see him," she replied. "And...is that Daisy with him?!" "WHAT?! Daisy's here?" Mario stood on his tiptoes. Making their way through the park, hand in hand, was his brother and a brown-haired girl in an orange dress. "I see them!" "We should meet them by the stage," Peach suggested. "It'll take less time to head back out to Main Street from there!" The three of them sprinted away from the bench toward the stage, stopping Luigi and Daisy in their tracks. Peach continued surging forward and nearly knocked her best friend over as she tackled her with a hug. "I had no idea you were coming," she said. "This is such a nice surprise!" "That was the whole point," Daisy giggled. "Did I miss anything big?" "Well, the annual New Year's Open Mic Night just wrapped up," Mario answered, "and now everyone's heading over to Main Street." "Well, what are we waiting for?!" *** 11:58 The clock tower read two minutes before the new year. The friends finally found a place to stand to watch the ball drop, and somehow reunited with Toad in the process. His search for Dr. Toadley's intern was unsuccessful, but he was still glad to be in their company. "I did find my sister, though," he recounted. "Toadette was with some tiny Hammer Bro named Hammy. He seems like a nice guy." "How tiny?" Mario asked. "Like, an inch or two taller than me, nothing more. Apparently he's just shorter than average. Anyway, Hammy said he and Toadette were gonna head over to Club 64 after the ball drops and wanted us to meet them there." "What for?" "You know, meet-and-greets, discussing New Year's resolutions, reflecting on the past year, maybe ordering a few things off the dessert menu since we probably haven't eaten anything since 6 pm...that sorta thing." "Sounds like a plan." "Look!" Rosalina exclaimed. "The ball just lit up!" "It lights up at 11:59," Peach added. "When the clock reaches 30 seconds, everyone's going to start counting down!" "Look at how excited Luigi and Daisy are," Toad observed aloud. "They haven't let go of each other's hands since you guys left the park!" Mario laughed. "I think I know what that's about," he said as he elbowed his brother's arm, making both Daisy and Luigi blush bright red. 48 seconds. "Ignore that," Daisy said to him. "He's just teasing you." 46 seconds. "I know," he replied. "Still...that tradition is hard to ignore when it's being shoved into your face every New Year's." 42 seconds. "Well, he's not forcing you to do it, right? He wouldn't do that. And neither would I. Or anyone else, for that matter." 37 seconds. "I guess I just worried too much about almost being ninth-wheeled." 35 seconds. "Well, Toad never found Dr. Toadley's intern, but that hasn't gotten him down, right? And I think Rosalina has been doing fine on her own for a while." 29 seconds. "The point is, everyone's surrounded by friends!" Daisy exclaimed. "That's why I flew here! No one should feel alone on New Year's. Not even you." 23 seconds. The countdown was growing louder as time ticked away. Luigi smirked and looked at Daisy. "Or you, Miss 'I-flew-in-via-Concord-because-I-missed-my-friends'." 20 seconds. "You're forgetting when I showed up at your door like a scene from 'Love, Actually'," Daisy retorted playfully. "Your hat's a bit lopsided, by the way." She readjusted the cap on his head. 15 seconds. "Well, your hair's almost in your eyes. And I haven't seen them in so long." He pushed some stray bangs away and looked into her eyes. Those beautiful viridian irises never ceased to leave him speechless. 10 seconds. People were shouting at the top of their lungs, but the two of them weren't paying attention. 9. 8. "Felice anno nuovo, Princess," Luigi said as he took Daisy's other hand. 6. She stepped closer, the distance between them lessening. 5. 4. She stood on her toes and let their foreheads touch. "It's gonna be a great one," she whispered. 3. 2. 1. The gap between them closed the second the clock struck midnight.

[the-casseroni]

Session 0.5) Winter’s Breath Festival

Items Gained

Winged Boots

Dust of Dissappearance

Efficient Quiver

Candle of Truth

Battles

The Party vs Banewood

NPCs Met

Grahami

Cypress

Banewood

Plot Synopsis

Having accepted the job, Alexi invites the four adventurers to stay for the Winter’s Breath Festival taking place that evening.  It's a celebration of a figure called Banewood, who supposedly brings food and supplies in the dead of night on the coldest night of the year, and may or may not kill people who look at him, especially new magic people in the city above.  Banewood is not a spirit of any description and certaily not one of the twenty old gods, no one's really sure what he is or if he exists but anything to brighten up the cold subterranean winters will do.  Also, Coco, suddenly realizing that he has the same name as Koko apologizes for any confusion this might have caused and tells you that you can call him by his full name, Chocolat, to make things easier.  The shield spell crystal is theirs to keep, but Nadine makes sure to warn them that it is single-use and will shatter once used.  Natron perks up once Banewood is mentioned, and spirit or spirit-adjascent thing that has no qualms with hurting humans is exactly what he’s looking for in his mission, excited by the prospect he gladly accepts the invitation.

Asterius finds Banewood intimidating and wouldn’t wanna run into him but he loves a good party and can’t be sure when the next time the four of them will get a hot meal will be and also accepts.  Ahal accepts the invitation, if only in the hopes that maybe attending the festival will help him learn the social skills he is desperately lacking in and food.  Koko also accepts and the four are guided further into the citadel, into a courtyard where countless tables have been put together to accommodate the citizens.  Something closely resembling holly hangs around the outside in garlands.  Warm lights emenate from orange crystals in lamps.  The stalactites and stalagmites are decorated in gorgeous frost murals that move slightly, snowflake designs that fall ever so slowly and scenes of wise elders telling stories of Banewood around a fire crackle.  Adorning the largest stalactite is a stylized portrayal of Banewood, who looks startlingly like a satyr. Not long after you arrive the feast begins, starting with a toast. Nadine stands up from her seat and raises her flask, "To Banewood!" The second you put the flask to your lips, you aren’t there anymore. The layout is the same, but instead of being decorated with frost this place is frost. And all of the Old Magic citizens are gone, replaced with unsettling humanoid creatures. Some sort of what could only be called fae, definitely not humans, but not any of the types of spirits.  Unsure of what happened or how they got there the four take a moment to gather their thoughts before they begin investigating.  Natron begins looking around the room and spots someone he knows, an earthbound spirit named Grahami who lives near his lake.  The two aren’t friends but Grahami isn’t scared of him and they usually only see each other when the water spirits in the area convene every 20 or so years.  Natron starts to approach then remembers he’s trying to make sure none of the other water spirits from his home know where he is and retreats before Grahami notices him.  When Asterius looks around he notices a throne made from holly and dark wood, maybe black walnut, it's decorated with ice crystals and two black mastiffs lie in front of it, the throne is empty, and these mastiffs are waiting.  Ahal tries to investigate but only manages to find an orange.  In inspecting the place Koko comes to the conclusion that the two worlds likely aren’t connected and what they do here shouldn’t affect the real world.  Gauging the room it’s decided that the four should not eat or dink anything given to them.  Ahal eats the orange, noticing that it tastes more acidic than oranges normally do.  Koko decides to take a look at what exactly is on the tables, and just like in their world, it’s a feast, the tables lined with meats, some squash, cranberries. It's seasonal food, all of it looks like food that exists in your world.

Now, a satyr fae dressed in fine clothes offers the four a round of drinks. The fur on his legs is snow white but the rest of his hair is a vibrant ultramarine.  He gives a knowing look, "Hello friends, good to see you could make it. Drinks?"  

The four take the drinks, Koko only taking a sip at first and asks, “You were expecting us?”  

To which the satyr says, "Of course, our lord told us he was expecting guests this Winter's Breath. I wasn't expecting such a colorful cast of characters but it is wonderful to meet you" he talks like one of those middle-aged women from the deep south who 'says bless your heart' and it's code for 'who the fuck do you think you are'

The wine is delicious and Koko tries to make pleasantries with the satyr.  But he only ignores her and addresses the party as a whole, calling for a toast.  And something starts to overpower Ahal, Asterius, and Natron’s wills.  Ahal feels it the worst, without second thought snatching one of the mugs from the stranger and gulping it down.  The mulled spices taste amazing, and remind him of the fall in his forest home.  Asterius only feels it slightly less than Ahal, knocking back the wine like a shot of hard liquor.  Natron knows he shouldn’t take the wine although he can’t describe how he knows this.  Hesitant, he takes a sip and while it’s definitely good wine it doesn’t remind him of home or anything, but it’s good enough to make him want to take another sip.  He manages to resist the urge to drink any more.  Instead asking where Banewood is.  

"He's on his way, don't worry, you're his guests, you'll meet him." But before they can ask any more questions or even try to act the world goes dark.

When they wake up again they’re all in a separate stone chamber lying against a wall and the two black mastiffs guarding the throne are there, growling and ready to attack.  The beefier of the two mastiffs attacks first, running across the room to bite Natron who manages to spring back to his feet and dodge the uncoming beast.  Ahal tries to calm it, and it works for a second but then it sniffs him and is only more freaked out by the fact that he smells like fire.  Asterius considers using prestidigitation to get rid of Ahal’s fire smell but that’s only a temporary fix so instead he launches an attack, shooting off two bolts of magic missile at the big one and a third one at the smaller one, making them whimper.  The smaller one leaps to clear the last few feet of distance between itself and Asterius, latching onto his arm and knocking him prone onto the ground.  Natron lashes back out at the big one that had tried to take a bite out of him and hits it with his flail.  Something makes a crunching noise when the flail makes impact and the mastiff goes down.  Koko creeps close enough to the smaller mastiff to try and calm it down.  He likes her much more than Ahal, he stops growing and wags his tail eagerly, giving her face a lick.  The party barely has a moment to breathe before someone else enters.  The room is instantaneously coated in ice, and a familiar person enters, except now he has furry goat legs, but by god they look exactly alike, the newcomer is Chocolat, right? He looks exactly the same, even the scars and piercings are the same.  No, it’s Banewood but the resemblance is unmistakable and unnerving.  This is Banewood, the entity behind Winter's Breath.  And the four just killed one of his dogs and have pretty much stolen the other one at this point.  He slowly starts to approach the four, the air around him is freezing cold. Now is their last chance to get any words in before he attacks.  

Natron takes a step forward, "hello, i am natron trona. i come in peace. i also have a proposition for you."

“Sorry about your dog-” comes from Koko.

Ahal stumbles through a hasty apology, Asterius joining him in trying to stay calm and apologize.

Banewood doesn't act like he cares that they fucked up his dogs, or that Natron is talking to him, but he looks like he's about to have a whole lot of fun. "Nice to meet you."

With lightning speed and dexterity Banewood rams full-force into Koko.  She stumbles before falling to the ground unconscious, one of the ridges on Banewood’s horns drew blood when it connected with her forehead and the cut oozes a little bit of blood.  Ahal unsheathes his shortsword and gets in a good cut on Banewood as he’s pulling away from Koko.  Asterius lunges in to try and use shocking grasp on him but the lightning fizzles out in his hands before he can touch him and Banewood easily slides back from his grasp.  Once again Natron swings with the flail, hitting Banewood in the solar plexus and returning his greeting, “Nice to meet you too.”  He then rushes to Koko and puts one hand on her forehead, the other holding her wrist,   calling on the connection to his god that he’s still refining heals her as best he can at the moment.  But she’s healed enough to get back up.  She shoots up and throwing out a hand towards their attacker casts entangle.  At first the vines curl around his legs but he pulls himself free and stomps them down with his hooves.  Ahal swings with his shortsword again but stumbles on the frosted floor and the attack lands short of its target.  Asterius attacks with ray of frost a wash of cold blue light leaves his hands and is absorbed into Banewood who recoils at the sudden change in temperature, stepping back a few paces as he tries to pull himself together.  Natron unsheathes the Stone Touch Dagger that rests against his hip and plunges it into the satyr’s shoulder and pulling the knife free.  Natron’s power seeps through himself and into the dagger, creeping through Banewood until, before he knows it, he’s completely paralyzed.  Koko attacks the immobilized foe with her crossbow.  Ahal hits one of Banewood’s horn with his shortsword, briefly getting embedded in it but yanking it free, making the horn chip.  Asterius follows Natron’s example and goes for his dagger but fumbles trying to pull it out of its sheath and nearly falling onto the icy floor.  Still weilding the Stone Touch, Natron goes in for the kill, stabbing Banewood in the throat.  BANEWOOD IS DEFEATED with his hp brought past 0 the effects of Natron's stone touch dagger ends. He falls to his knees, a hand going to hold the wound in his throat, and spits out a tooth. There's a chip in one of his horns. He chuckles and stumbles back up to his hooves. He shifts something on his shoulders, a pack falling into his hands. He shoves it into Ahal's arms. Then without actually touching them shoves them back, and says, "Merry Winter's Breath" a sly smile on his face. The four stumble back and in the split second their eyes are closed they are transported back to their plane. The pack is strapped across Ahal's back and the four are mid-toast, glasses at their lips. No one looks any different, as if no time has passed at all. Chocolat is sitting at the other end of the table from, smiling with the excitement of the celebration. His horns aren't chipped.

Ahal sets the bag down on the table.  He draws out a pair of winged boots Koko draws out a container of dust of disappearance Asterius pulls out an efficient quiver, Natron pulls out a candle of truth

And with that, the night goes on and the Winter’s Breath Festival continues like nothing ever happened.