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thequeensrighthand · 4 years

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The Escapade (Callé’s Side)

RP story written with @kaidin-ryscandor-ace-pilot

Callé pulled her hood tighter around her. She had been sent by Padmé to go and find food for her and the other handmaidens. Well, really she had volunteered. She needed to get out of that stuffy Senate building. She had seen enough of it in the previous weeks since the battle on Naboo, so when Padmé asked if someone would get lunch, Callé was more than willing to go and stretch her legs. It would also give her time away from Padmé. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her best friend, because she did. However, ever since the incident with Obi-Wan on Naboo, her friend had been... smothering. Callé knew that her friend cared about her, but she just needed time.

Callé was near the store that she had found when she searched for nearby grocers when she heard a whistle behind her. She tried to ignore them, but the catcalls just kept multiplying. Their shadows surrounded her.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” One of the harassers called out to her, “Come have a drink with us.”

Callé tried her best to keep going, trying to push through them. “ I really can’t do that. I’m on a deadline.”

“Deadlines can be extended,” this particularly creepy man said as he towered over her. Callé fumbled around with her robes in vain for her blaster.

“Hey,” a voice said, “I’d recommend that you leave her alone. Otherwise those officers over there?” He said, pointing to the Coruscant law enforcement across the way, “Will find out you’re harassing a minor.”

“You sure about that, kid?” Another guy said, shoving the man. The man just brushed off the dirt.

Callé knew the boy meant well, but she couldn’t stand to see someone get hurt at her expense, so she stepped in front of her would-be protector.

“Hey! Leave him alone,”Callé said, finally finding her blaster in her skirts. “I can use this if I have to,” she threatened, but she knew it was a bluff. She’d forgotten to reload since she left Naboo, so she had enough for one shot, maybe two.

“I got this,” the boy said, getting back in front of her with his own blaster. “I say you all chill out and look over there. Seriously.”

Callé looked at the boy incredulously. That was his plan? Look over there?

It worked.

The boy grabbed Callé’s hand and ran through the streets, dragging her behind. The men followed, but the duo were faster. The boy pulled them into an alley with an abandoned speeder.

“That was close,” he said.

“Is this your speeder? Because I don’t know if my lady would condone stealing,” Callé smirked before peeking out into the streets. “They’re still a ways away, but they’ll find us eventually. What now?”

“We drive,” the boy said, helping her into the passenger’s side. Callé couldn’t ignore the fact that he had glazed over her first question, especially as she watched him hotwire the speeder.

She gave him a concerned look. He barely looked her age. Did he know what he was doing?

“I’m a fantastic driver,” he grinned.

Callé looked at her sideways. She was in no position to complain since the boy had just gotten her out of a jam.

“Do you have any idea where you’re going?” she asked, watching the scenery whizz by. So much for getting better acquainted with the world at her own pace.

“Yeah,” the boy replied, weaving through traffic. “The name’s Kaidin Ryscandor. You got a name?”

“Callé,” she replied, “I’d shake your hand, but I’d feel better if you kept both hands on the controls!”

“Understandable,” Kaidin replied, pulling off into an area with stores. They had shaken their thugs and were safe. Callé took his hand as she stepped out of the speeder.

“Do you make it a habit of swooping in and rescuing people?” She asked as her feet hit the ground. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting any of your day plans.”

“Plans? Nah, I don’t have any plans,” Kaidin shrugged. “And, nah, I don’t make a habit of it.” He smiled, Callé caught a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Just protecting royalty.”

Callé chuckled at the boy’s presumptions. She looked down at her outfit, taking in the relative plainness of her robes today. “Oh, you’re a little mistaken. I’m not royalty.”

She was flattered, though, that anyone could think otherwise. “Well, if you don’t have any plans, maybe you could help me find some food? I was on a mission to secure lunch for my lady and those creeps just happened to derail that.”

“Well, I think you could be a princess,” He said, smiling at her with dazzlingly white teeth. “Not to worry, I know a place where you can get food.”

Kaidin adjusted his jacket and offered her his arm, “My lady.”

Callé rolled her eyes, but slipped her arm through his. “Lead the way, flyboy.”

She looked around at the buildings, finding that they extended impossibly high in bot directions. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Coruscant,” she murmured.

“It’s a confusing place, Princess,” he replied. “But, I’ve lived here all my life. It’s rather dull.”

They walked up to a food store and Callé was immediately overwhelmed by the amount of options. She took a basket and began to rifle through the shelves, pulling off odds and ends to make a nice lunch spread for her friends.

“Have you ever wanted to go off-world?” She asked out of curiosity. She stood on the tips of her toes trying to reach a box of Nabootian crackers, but her diminutive height kept her from barely making the shelf. She felt a body behind her as Kaidin swooped in and took the item off the shelf with ease, placing it in her basket.

“Always. I want to be a great pilot and go across the galaxy,” He said with slight blush. “A stupid dream, but a dream nonetheless.”

“I don’t think dreams are stupid,” she replied with a gentle smile. “I think the galaxy is such a place where anyone can do anything should they set their mind to it.” She paused and looked back at the top shelf, “We are our own limitations.”

“Very wise,” he responded with a smile, “But, enough about me. What about you? Who is this lady you keep mentioning?”

“Ah, my best friend,” Callé nodded, “Queen Padmé Amidala from Naboo. We’re visiting the Senate to discuss some issues with the Trade Federation. We defeated them in battle and now she needs to sort out some treaty business.”

“Oh, Queen Amidala?” He asked, showing a hint of recognition, “Ah, you’re a handmaiden, then. Maybe you should be the queen.”

Callé gave him an unamused look as she paid for her wares. “I’m perfectly happy with where I am now. I’m not the best at negotiations. Nor do I enjoy having to put on a show all the time. I admire Padmé and what she does, don’t get me wrong, but I could never be the person Naboo would need me to be.”

“If you say so,” Kaidin answered, running a hand through his hair. “I wouldn’t amount to much either.”

Callé found that hard to believe. “Nonsense. After that stunt you just pulled, you could be the hero of the galaxy,” she said, winking at him before exiting the store. “You know, we’re always looking for pilots on Naboo,” she added.

They walked a little ways towards the speeder. “Hero of the galaxy?” he asked, with a devilish smirk, “You mean the hero of you?”

“Oh, you wish,” she replied, playfully smacking his arm, trying to deflect. She carefully placed her basket on the speeder bike, turning to face him, “Do Coruscant women usually swoon when you tell them you’ll be their hero?”

“No. Do I look like the type to make ladies swoon?” He shot back, “I’m like 16, Coruscant women aren’t usually around my age.”

Callé took in his scruffy appearance, appraising him. He was attractive with his boyish charm. She just wanted to reach out and push the hair out of his eyes. “You never know,” she teased, “So, hotshot, my mission’s accomplished, but I have some time to spare. What’s fun around here?”

“Nothing,” Kaidin replied, “But I am.” With a wink, he helped her onto the speeder. “Where to? I often go near that weird temple thing. They don’t know I’m there though.”

“The Jedi Temple?” Callé asked awkwardly. She wasn’t too keen on seeing Obi-Wan again so soon. Her heart couldn’t take it. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

“What can they do to us? They’re peaceful aren’t they?” he said, narrowing his eyes at her, “Unless there’s someone there you don’t want to see?”

Callé had to play it cool. “Oh, no reason. I just don’t think my lady would like it much if I get in trouble,” she shrugged. “I have no business being there really.”

“I do annoy Kenobi a lot, though,” he grinned.

Callé tried to respond nonchalantly, “I’m sure that’s not hard, from what I’ve heard.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind my presence,” Kaidin said.

Callé laughed as she tucked her hair behind her ear, letting her hood fall back, “Yeah? And how do you figure that?”

“Because he would have said otherwise,” he laughed.

Cal came to the conclusion that as the passenger of this vehicle, she didn’t have much of a say in where they ended up. She hit some form of acceptance. “How often do you go there?”

“Often enough. Master Yoda knows I do, but he doesn’t say much about it,” he replied. “Maybe they’re keeping an eye on my to be a pilot for them? Oh I hope I get assigned to Kenobi.”

Cal smiled a sad smile. “I don’t know if he’ll be leaving the temple for a while. He just lost his Master and got a new Padawan,” Cal commented before quickly adding, “or so I’ve heard.”

“Ah. Well, I won’t bother him then. I could go give him a hug, but he wouldn’t appreciate it.”

“Do you know all the Master Jedi?” Cal asked curiously.

“Not by name,” he replied, “Only Yoda and Obi-Wan. We should tell them bout the rescue, maybe then they’ll let me be a pilot for them!”

“Is there a reason you want to go to the temple so badly?” Cal asked with a raised brow.

“I’m forced to live day by day as a hustler. Gambling to steal from wealthy mobsters to survive,” Kaidin told her, “It’s nice to have stability.”

“Understandable,” Cal sighed. “I have to be back at the Senate building by two, though.”

“This won’t take long,” he told her.

She quickly found herself at the temple, with some help from Kaidin’s apparent lack of respect for speed limits. Once there, they saw Obi-Wan surprisingly by himself, staring out at the sunset.

Cal sat back in the speeder, waving Kaidin ahead, “You run along, I’ll wait here.”

“If you’re sure,” Kaidin replied before setting off towards the Jedi.

Cal casually picked through what she had bought at the store, trying to seem disinterested. She pulled the hood over her head. She gently got out of the speeder and looked out over the city. They were higher up than she’d expected to be. She could barely make out the Senate building on the horizon. She took in a deep breath before heading over to Kaidin, hood pulled over her head, hiding her face in the shadow. “Kaidin, we should probably get going. I’m expected back soon.”

“Right. Of course, course, Princess,” he told her, before looking back at Obi-Wan and adding, “Bye, dad.”

Kaidin took Cal’s hand and led her back to the speeder. She held his hand like it was her lifeline, afraid that if she let go, she would render herself immobile. She wanted to turn around and run back to Obi-Wan, but she knew better.

“Did you do what you needed to, flyboy?” She asked softly, but the teasing didn’t have the same bite that she wanted it to.

“I did, Princess,” Kaidin said. “Oh, since we’re friends you can call me Kai instead of Kaidin.”

“Alright, Kai,” Cal said, trying his name out on her tongue. “My friends cal me Cal.” She let a silence sit for a moment before asking, “Is he okay?”

“He puts up a good act,” Kai told her, “But his eyes tell his true feelings. He’s sad, of course, scared of failing in teaching Anakin... He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

“I feel for him,” Cal sighed. “He needs to give himself more credit, though. I’m sure Anakin will turn out fine.”

“Same here,” Kai replied. “Let’s get you to the Senate, Cal.”

They sped off to the Senate building, pulling up to where they parked the speeders. She gingerly looked over at him, not wanting to leave, yet. “Will I see you again?” Cal asked.

“Of course,” He replied, casually taking her holopad and typing on it. “I added my contact in here. So just holovid me if you’re ever free, and we’ll go do something.”

“Why do I feel like you’ll be trouble?” Cal asked with a smile as she took her holopad back, placing it in the basket.

“Well, excuuuuuuuse me, Princess!” he replied, eyes alight with mock offense. “Trouble? Me?”

Cal rolled her eyes. “Yes, you. All the trouble,” she chuckled. “Don’t make me regret meeting you, Kai.”

“Oh, Princess, I think you already do,” he winked before kissing her on the cheek.

Cal blinked at the sudden kiss, feeling her face get hot. “I...um... I should head inside,” Cal blabbered as she gathered her things and walked towards the entrance. She caught Kai waving at her before getting on the speeder again. She let the doors fall closed behind her and made her way back up to the others.

“What took you so long?” Padmé asked when she returned.

“Something...unexpected came up,” Cal replied with a knowing smile.

#Callé #OC #Kaidin #obi-wan #Star Wars #Star Wars OC

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alittlepieceofwarcraft · 6 years

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pls write a fic where Ligani meets Sylvanas I love stubborn troll grandmas

Your wish is my command.

Year 33, Sen’jin Village, after the Legion war, before the Forsaken/human meeting.

I am so weary of drums, Sylvanas thought to herself as she watched the Darkspear procession unfold before her. Shadow hunters staged a reenactment of a battle upon the Broken Shore, drum beats meeting every strike with a low clap on leathery stretched skin fixed to a drum body fashioned out of driftwood. She’d had the same thought in her previous journey to Thunder Bluff. The raw hammering of hands that bored her intensely seemed repetitively mind numbing. Nevertheless, she found it somewhat endearing that they’d arranged dancing and chants for her visit, even if the experience was mundane. Always composed on the exterior, she was even more aware of her expression as she felt the side-eyed stare of an old troll fixated upon her. Ligani had come across as a no nonsense character, which Sylvanas could appreciate, but her constant unspoken surveillance left a small bloat of uneasiness in the undead’s gut that no one else had managed to conjure for some time. The fact that the crone was almost blind, yet still observing her reaction to the festivities, mildly agitated the Queen even more. Ever since the loss of Vol’jin the Darkspear Tribe had found itself leaderless, thus turning to its elders for guidance. As one of the oldest members, Ligani was almost unanimously silently chosen and swiftly upon her arrival to the Echo Isles, Sylvanas noted yet again to rectify that. Ligani was no fool and not a woman to be pushed around; her blunt attitude almost disregarded the banshee as anyway important at all, irritating her greatly. She’d given the queen an uninterested greeting and allowed other members of the tribe to entertain the Queen before plonking her hunched frame down onto a bench to keep an eye on Sylvanas during the event. She couldn’t be used as a puppet, the Queen concluded, so let her have he mistrust and distaste. She wouldn’t be a figurehead for much longer.

As the warriors departed the makeshift stage, spirit callers entered the lime light; reciting a chorus of Zanalari prayer, thrusting coloured dust into the bonfire flames to change the flickers from a warm orange to neon green, bright blue and violet purple. Ligani’s gaze did not move from the Warchief. Nathanos Blightcaller, who sat to his Dark Lady’s left, evidently also felt the narrowed stare of the troll to be discomforting at the very least. He’d opened his mouth a couple of times to protest, to ask the troll what she wanted, but a quick shot of Sylvanas’ eyes had kept him quiet. She’d spent little time around trolls bar Vol’jin, however knew some of their culture. Undead were treated with grave suspicion; seen as a product of stealing dead souls from a loa, whose name she could quite not recall. She’d already heard of Ligani vaguely before this encounter: the great Spirit Walker of the Darkspear, known to be a stubborn and cranky individual, even towards her own people. Sylvanas would have preferred to have met her late husband, Akuji, famed witch doctor and voodoo master who practiced all the dark taboos, including necromancy. This was of course before the trolls cast out the old ways. He may have been more open minded to talk to than this strong-willed old bat. No matter, she contemplated, she’d already privately resolved to herself that Ligani wouldn’t be an issue in the long run.

A younger troll carrying a jug of what appeared to be wine approached the three, nodding to each one. Ligani held out a coconut shell, posing as some sort of mug, and allowed the wine bearer to fill it up with the rich red liquid. Nathanos scowled.

“It is customary to offer your guests a glass before you take your own,” he grumbled, “especially if that guest is a Queen.” Ligani let out of short cackle. The woman was infuriating, Sylvanas thought.

“Boy, I be old as bones,” she chuckled, “but you be dead already. Wine be for the livin’, not walkin’ debts to Bwonsamdi.” Nathanos’ eyes widened in a glint of anger at the insult, but Sylvanas waved a hand at him, signalling him to stand down.

“It was merely impolite,” he muttered, sinking back into his chair, annoyed. She pondered what to say to the old troll. With all other leaders, they’d been sure to be respectful and careful with their words, but this was commonly laced with false flattery. Ligani was no more pleased to host the Warchief than Sylvanas was to be there and did not attempt to impose disingenuous compliments upon her. Of course, there would be no place for the crone to have real power in the Horde, but humouring Ligani may be more entertaining than the show in front of them. Especially if she knew any more of her dead mate’s craft, and she knew it’d be easier to catch this old bug with honey rather than bitter vinegar.

“It is so good that both our people could come together, despite quite opposing ideals of course,” she hissed under her breath, so as not to disrupt the show. Ligani raised an eyebrow at the Queen’s uncharacteristic attempt at chatter. It wasn’t friendly, barely lukewarm, but it wasn’t her usual cold quips and stony comments she was known for. The Queen continued, “although, from my studies I know we do share common ground. In your old ways.” The troll’s eyes squinted into slits.

“I be not messin’ wid da bad mojo, if that be what ya mean. No voodoo, no juju, no stealin’ from loa.” Although she was blind and required a walking stick to move her hunched body around, Ligani was still as sharp as ever. Sylvanas gritted her teeth into a forced smiled.

“Of course not. Completely… theoretical. I’ve heard many stories about Akuji, your deceased partner.”

“He messed wid da spirits alright,” Ligani replied coldly, “but he be makin’ deals with Bwonsamdi, borrowin’ souls, returnin’ dem as quick as dey rose,” Sylvanas’ gaze was forced directly into Ligani’s failing eyes as the troll stared right at her, “they not be stayin’ undead for long.” Sylvanas maintained her unnaturally exaggerated smile in tact. It wasn’t a secret she sought to maximise the life span of her people. More versed in war than necromancy, Sylvanas has delved into all the methods she could lay her hands on, all efforts still remaining fruitless. Her lips curled into a blank stare as she returned her attention back to the spirit callers in front of her, all knelt down around the fire pit, speaking in a language she was unable to decipher. Ligani also looked onward, taking another sip of the blood red vintage that had been imported recently from blood elves for solidarity of the Darkspear losses in the war. She savoured the unusually sweet flavour in her mouth before allowing it to pour down her throat. It would be some time before the trolls would be graced with a rare and extravagant gift such as this. She let a uncommonly seen grin muse upon her face as trolls came up one by one, offering bowls of fruit and cut meat as a tribute to the elder and Warchief. A rather impractical donation for their undead leader, Sylvanas had silently noted, since their own resources needed replenishing drastically since the Legion war and she had no need of it, but a kind pleasantry all the same. She nodded as each one was presented, and Sylvanas too inclined her head to the humble presents.

The night droned on until the last drum beat sounded and the last gesture given and the last troll withdrew from the centre of the ring. Ligani hoist herself up, a gnarled cane stabbing into the sandy earth as she pushed herself up, tired from the night’s events. Sylvanas rotated to see Nathanos leading a reined bat towards her to take her home. She looked back to give the elder a wry smirk-like grin.

“It was gracious of you to host me, Spirit Walker,” she said, fake gratitude lacing her words, “I’ll return in good time to organise the Darkspear’s current… predicament.” Ligani’s eyes winced, knowing the protection of her people - while she held no true power to do so in reality - would be cast onto a more malleable host. Someone who respected Sylvanas. Someone who could be controlled by Sylvanas. She gave a stiff nod.

“Spirits be good ta ya,” a parting sentiment imitating the same sham appreciation she had received. Sylvanas turned, cape flowing out as she hopped onto the large bat’s saddle and whipped the reins. Nathanos copied his Dark Lady’s lead with a bat of his own, and Ligani watched as both champion and Warchief flew off into the cool night.

“I see no reason you put up with that woman’s arrogance, my Lady,” Nathanos commented as he rode side by side with his Queen. She smirked.

“Pick your battles, my champion,” She retorted, “that one won’t be a problem for much longer, as long it it is nipped in the bud before the roots take.”

#fanfic

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lady-divine-writes · 6 years

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Kurtbastian one-shot - “Common Courtesy” (Rated PG)

In order to combat a common problem down at their rink, Sebastian institutes a new rule. (1731 words)

Notes: In case anyone's wondering, yes, this happens a lot at my rink, and I've wanted to tell parents to do just this literally every single day.

Part 38 of Outside Edge

Read on AO3

“Higher, Melanie! Higher! I want to see that leg in the air! And point your toe more! Madison, dear! Tell Melanie to point her toe more!”

An exasperated Madison looks at her young student, who had been doing her spiral perfectly before her mom began to bellow, and sighs.

“Point your toe, Melanie,” Madison deadpans, then crosses her eyes, which makes Melanie giggle. But Melanie laughing at the faces Madison pulls out of her mother’s line of sight makes the woman furious.

“Melanie! Show your coach some respect! I don’t pay her $50 a lesson so you can disrespect her!”

Madison rolls her eyes at the mention of her fee, which Mrs. Dickerson has tried to re-negotiate multiple times without success. Compared to other coaches, what Madison charges per half hour is a steal. But not every parent sees it that way.

Definitely not Mrs. Dickerson.

“Y-yes, mom,” Melanie replies, shrinking into herself. Madison puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her away, trying to find a spot where Melanie’s mother can’t bother them. But the rink is basically a fish bowl. There’s nowhere they can go that her mother won’t see.

“Respect your coach. Why doesn’t she try respecting her kid,” Kurt grumbles, occupying himself by writing in his skating journal, planning out the choreography for his next competition routine. He’s been doing his best to ignore Mrs. Dickerson, the way he tries to ignore all of the moms and dads who sit on the sidelines and bark criticisms at their kids as if they have been coaching figure skaters their entire lives. Most parents sitting in the hockey boxes have never set foot on the ice competitively a day in their lives. But the second their kids show some interest, suddenly they’re Marina Zoueva.

“Most parents don’t think they have to,” Sebastian says, just as irritated as his boyfriend. “Not when the kids want to be here and they’re signing the checks.”

“Except yesterday, Melanie didn’t want to be here. She twisted her ankle in practice the day before, and it’s still acting up on her. She told her mom over and over that she wanted to go home until she was in tears. And you know what her mom said? Deal with it. Yeah. It’s easy to tell your poor ten-year-old kid to deal with it when they’re the ones with pain in their legs, exhausted, afraid of twisting an ankle and falling on their heads, while you sit in the hockey box wrapped in a warm coat and blanket, doing nothing but yelling nonsense.” Kurt shakes his head, trembling with anger. “You know, my mom was a competitive skater for years and she rarely criticized me. And she sure as hell never yelled across the rink at me.”

“Come on, Melanie!” Mrs. Dickerson yells, snapping at her daughter as if she were a dog. “Get your butt moving! I want to see you land at least one double Axel before we leave.”

Melanie’s eyes pop. She looks at Madison, who puts her hands protectively on her shoulders.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Dickerson,” Madison says, “we just learned the single Axel. I’m not sure Melanie’s quite ready to land a double just yet. Give her a few months, and when she’s had a little more practice, we can …”

“With all due respect, Madison,” Mrs. Dickerson interjects, mockingly, “I think I know better than you what my daughter is capable of. I’ve been watching her practice that single for the better part of this week. Now, I want to see her land a double, or we’ll be here till this place closes.”

“That’s only six hours from now,” Sebastian says, seething. “And she’ll probably duck out for an hour in the middle to go to Starbucks.”

“Poor Melanie.” Kurt hugs his journal to his chest. “She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t want to compete. She’s not looking to go to the Olympics or anything like that. She just wants to perform, wear a sparkly dress, do some spins and jumps. You know, I think it should be a rule that if parents want to criticize their kids’ skating, they need to do it on the ice with skates on. Then maybe they’d see that it’s not so simple as pointing your toe more or lifting your leg higher.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian agrees, chewing that thought over in his head. He has an idea, but he’s debating exactly how much trouble he’d get in for doing it. In the end, he decides what the heck. Is the Westerville Ice-plex really going to kick him – a national champion – out of their rink for trying to get a mom off their kid’s back? Probably not. “Hey, babe. You’re into all that fashion stuff. What size shoe do you think Mrs. Dickerson wears?”

“Uh … I don’t know. A six, maybe a six-and-a-half. Why do you ask?”

“I think you came up with a way to get Melanie’s mom off her case.” Sebastian gives Kurt a quick kiss on the cheek. “Start practicing. I’ll be right back.”

***

“Melanie! What the heck are you doing with your arms? Hold them out straight! Straight!!”

“Hello, Mrs. Dickerson,” Sebastian says, then waits a moment for acknowledgement. When he doesn’t get it, he continues. “I came to give you these.” He puts a pair of beat up old grey-and-black rental skates on the bench beside her. The woman barely glances at them before she scoffs and says, “What’re those for? There’s nothing wrong with Melanie’s skates. Besides, she can’t skate in rentals.”

“They’re not for her. They’re for you.”

Mrs. Dickerson jerks as if Sebastian spat in her face. “What in the world …? Look, I know you’re a national champion and whatnot so they pretty much let you do whatever you want around here. But I don’t appreciate being fun of, young man.”

“No, what you don’t seem to appreciate is how difficult what Melanie does is. The physical exertion, the skill, the dedication. And we’re all sick and tired of listening to you berate her over something you know nothing about! So, from now on, if you want to comment on her skating – her posture, her arm position, anything at all – you’re going to put on those skates, and you’re going to go out there and tell her personally! $5 says you fall on your ass after two seconds.”

That’s what Sebastian wants to say. He’d also wanted to throw those rental skates right in Mrs. Dickerson’s pinched, mutant, bull terrier-looking face. But he didn’t because, regardless of how much of a jerk Melanie’s mom is, she’s a customer. So what he does say is: “It’s a new policy the coaches have come up with to cut down on the amount of extraneous noise in here while our skaters concentrate on their routines. Competition season is coming up, you know. So we’re asking parents to skate over to their kids if they need to talk to them … as a courtesy.”

“You must be joking.”

“Nope. It’s actually not a new concept. A lot of other rinks have started doing it all across the country.”

“Well, I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s not the kind of thing a lot of rinks advertise,” Sebastian says with a commiserate chuckle, “but it’s been proven to work wonders in helping skaters maintain their focus.”

Mrs. Dickerson crosses her arms, glaring at Sebastian skeptically. “Has it now?”

“Yup. If our skaters are going to perform at their best, they need to concentrate on their coaches and their choreography. We’re just doing everything we can to make sure our skaters turn into champions. Make sure you get your money’s worth.” Sebastian winks and flashes her a smile. It’s forced, but he’s gotten better at faking it. Still, Mrs. Dickerson doesn’t look completely convinced. Melanie skates by, preparing to perform a single Axel – single loop combination (an attempt on Madison’s part to appease Melanie’s mother). But right before she sets up, she drops her shoulder. Sebastian sees her mother begin to stand, mouth open, and he knocks on the wall of the hockey box to get her attention. Her eyes snap to him, annoyed at being interrupted, but he simply shakes his head and points at the skates.

“I’m sorry,” he says sweetly. “But if you want to talk to her, you’ll need to put those on.” He turns on his blade and skates away, leaving her simmering on the bench with the pair of rental skates by her side. Melanie lands a second single Axel. It’s more or less technically accurate except for her hand position, which, of course, will improve over time.

Nathan Chen didn’t land a quad in a day.

Melanie’s mother is itching to comment on it. Kurt can see it in her eyes, the way they widen; her lips twitching at the corners. But she hesitates. Her mouth drops open, but nothing comes out. Her gaze finds Sebastian on the ice where he’s joining up with his boyfriend to go over his routine. Then she looks down at her side, like she’s considering putting the skates on. But eventually she relents. She was right about the Westerville Ice-plex basically letting Sebastian do what he wants. He and his boyfriend are like rock stars there. Even if Sebastian is playing her for a fool, the management would probably take his side.

He brings them money, after all.

She slides down the bench and away from those ludicrous skates. She sticks her earbuds in her ears and reluctantly starts watching videos on her iPhone. Huddled inside her coat, she ignores Melanie and Madison, as if that’s some sort of punishment. Madison sighs, gives Sebastian a grateful smile, then goes back to helping Melanie with her routine.

Sebastian doesn’t turn around to see the fruits of his handiwork, but he can tell by the expression on his boyfriend’s face that his bluff had the desired effect. It may not end the criticism altogether, but it might give Melanie a much needed break for a while.

“You are so bad,” Kurt says, giggling behind his hand as he pretends to scratch his cheek.

“You said it yourself,” Sebastian says, wrapping his arms around Kurt’s waist. “If parents want to talk down to their kids about what they do on the ice, let them do it in skates.”

#kurtbastian #sebkurt #sekurt #frankie writes

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Skripal suspects say Salisbury trip was ′coincidence′ | News | DW

The men wanted by the UK over the poisoning of former double agent Sergei Skripal denied any wrongdoing in a joint interview released on Thursday.

“I think it’s pretty much nonsense,” said one of the suspects, Alexander Petrov, when asked if they had any sort of poison with them during their trip to the UK.

Read more: UK to request extradition of Russian attack suspects

Talking to Margarita Simonyan, the editor-in-chief of Moscow-funded RT, Petrov and Ruslan Boshirov denied being agents of the Russian military intelligence GRU. They said they were working in the area of fitness supplements.

“We fear for our lives,” Boshirov said, with Petrov commenting that the UK was offering a reward for the two of them.

“After our lives turned into a nightmare, we didn’t know what to do, where to go,” said Petrov.

They also said they would appreciate an apology from London.

Read more: Novichok came in ‘expensive’ looking perfume bottle, victim Charlie Rowley says

Petrov (L) and Boshirov (R) in the pictures published by British police

Suspects deny knowing about Skripals

UK authorities charged Petrov and Boshirov in absentia with the poisoning of the double agent Sergei Skripal and his daughter, Yulia, in Salisbury. Officials published photos of the two passing through the gate at London’s Gatwick airport and walking on the streets of Salisbury. They were also seen near Skripal’s home. The names Alexander Petrov and Ruslan Boshirov were aliases, according to the UK.

During the interview on Thursday, the two men said the names were their own. When asked about their visit to Salisbury, the two said they were visiting the “wonderful” town as tourists, but gave it up after one hour due to bad weather. When asked if they got near Skripal’s house, they said they did not know where it was.

“Maybe we passed it, or maybe we didn’t,” said Boshirov. “I’d never heard about them before this nightmare started.”

Interview as ‘protection’

Just a day before the interview with Kremlin-backed RT, Russian President Vladimir Putin publicly stated that the two suspects were “civilians.”

“We know who they are, we found them,” Putin said at an economic forum in Vladivostok, insisting once again that Russia was not involved in the Skripal poisoning.

“Well, I hope they will come out themselves and speak about themselves. It will be better for everyone,” he added.

Petrov and Boshirov said they decided to contact the editor of RT personally to ask for “protection” and appeal to the global media to leave them alone.

“This whole situation is a fantastical, fatal coincidence,” Boshirov said.

UK slams ‘obfuscation and lies’

London rejected the suspects’ claims soon after the interview was aired. The government said it was “clear these men are officers of the Russian military intelligence service — the GRU — who used a devastatingly toxic, illegal chemical weapon on the streets of our country.”

Read more: Kremlin says linking Russia with new Novichok poisoning is ‘absurd’

“We have repeatedly asked Russia to account for what happened in Salisbury in March,” the UK said in a statement. “Today, just as we have seen throughout, they have responded with obfuscation and lies.”