#but its partially a I WANT TO BE TALLER THAN JOHN thing too

[gallifreyanwriter]

my oc oran is 6'7" and has so many back problems his 5'3" bf won't let him pick him up

only tangentially related, but Denice was always taller than John growing up and then when he was like twelve he started to Grow like boys often do and she’s lowkey salty about it to this day

[janeofcakes]

Soulmate: How John Met Sherlock...Again  Chapter 2

Hello, my friends! I come to you today knowing there is but one burning question in your minds today: What will Gracie and Olive get up to next? Okay, maybe two: When the hell will John and Sherlock meet, Jane? Tell me. Tell me now! Haha. Patience, my lovelies. You know I can't write a story without stringing you along for a while first. I am very firmly on the naughty list and like our dear friend, Martin Freeman I cannot abide being on anyone's nice list. Mwahaha.

I also wanted to say that the next few chapters are not as long as the first. There was so much to get through in that one. I hope you aren't disappointed. The good news is my typing and editing are going well so I should be able to keep my weekend schedule. Hooray!Happy reading. Jane

----

Gracie casts a side look at Olive from where she sits on the jungle gym. It is afternoon break and the two girls just climbed frantically up the poles and bars to sit at the top for a rest after running themselves ragged all over the playground pretending to be Nancy Drew and George Fayne solving a mystery. Every day since Monday has gone more or less the same way. They play together for morning break, talk at lunch and play again in the afternoon. They write notes on one another’s notebooks during lessons, but manage not to disrupt class or miss instruction. It has been a truly amazing first week of school, better than Gracie could have ever imagined.

Gracie looks at Olive again and feels her throat swell. It’s like she has known Olive forever. They seem to always understand each other and be in perfect sync. Gracie has talked about nothing else at home and has even dreamed about playing with Olive each night. Olive has told her all kinds of things about London and its history. Tower Bridge, London Bridge, the National Theatre, but what Gracie is most interested in seeing is the Tower of London. She asked her father just last night if they could go sometime to see the old castle and the crown jewels. She can’t wait to see and do everything, and it would be even better if Olive could come along for some of it. London is much more exciting than Bath ever was, hands down!

“Gracie,” Olive begins in a lazy tone, “how do you feel about bees?”

Turning to face her friend fully, Gracie furrows her brow and frowns. Olive does not react to the movement and continues looking at something in the distance, or perhaps at nothing at all. Gracie says nothing at first, wondering if Olive had been talking before and all Gracie heard was the bee question. The taller girl finally turns her head and fixes the blonde with an inquisitive gaze. Gracie frowns as she considers the question. She is not really partial to any insect, nor is she upset by them. 

“They’re all right, I guess,” Gracie shrugs. “They make honey, so there’s that.”

“Mm…” Olives hums in approval. “True.”

Gracie raises her brows, every inch of her face asking ‘What are you on about?’. Olive blinks and seems to realize she was lost in her own mind, leaving Gracie with absolutely no context for the question.

“That’s what my dad wants to do when he retires,” Olive explains. “Beekeeping. In Sussex, probably.”

Oh no. This can’t be happening. Gracie just met Olive and had the best week of her life and now she’s going to lose her to bees?!

“You’d leave London then?” Gracie chokes on the words, not even trying to hide her distress.

“Yeah,” Olive answers absently, playing with the end of her long braid. “He says they’re fascinating.”

Gracie’s whole body tenses and her stomach roils. She feels sick and a bit dizzy when she glances away from Olive to a girl laughing wildly on the swings. It’s like a bad dream spiraling out of control to the soundtrack of that girl’s mad laughter. Gracie bites her lip hard to ground herself and looks back at Olive.

“Is he close to retiring?” Gracie forces out, beads of sweat beginning to collect at her temples.

“What? No,” Olive huffs a laugh and looks at Gracie again. “He’s definitely old, but not ancient. He has too much fun working anyway. Hey, are you okay?”

“Fun?” Gracie asks incredulously, ignoring her friend’s inquiry. “At a crime scene?”

“Oh, yeah, he loves it,” Olive laughs, seeing Gracie begin to relax. “He loves a good mystery. Locked room murders are his favorite.”

“Wow,” Gracie mutters, only half understanding what that means.

“He used to have a partner, you know,” Olive adds with a grin. “He loved it even more then.”

“So he had his own Clue Crew?” excited energy vibrates through Gracie’s body as she pictures a grown up and male version of Olive with a man and woman posed behind him like on Charlie’s Angels. Gracie’s dad loves old shows and movies, so she has seen her fair share. James Bond is his favorite. She makes a note to ask Olive if she has ever seen any of them.

“Not a crew,” the brunette corrects. “Just the one partner. They solved all kinds of cases together. They were best friends.”

“Like us?”

“Yep, exactly like us,” Olive says with a flash of teeth. Gracie grins too and is about to ask about Bond when something else pops to the forefront of her mind.

“Oh! It’s like my dad’s bedtime stories!” Gracie blurts eagerly. “Sam Williams and Dean Jensen. They’re best friends and solve crimes together. That’s how I got started on Nancy Drew in the first place. Dad’s read some of the old ones to me.”

“Really?” Olive cries. “Oh! Oh! Mystery of the 99 Steps?”

“That’s my favorite!” Gracie shrieks, her hands flying to her cheeks.

“Mine too!” Olive gasps.

“Girls,” the teacher on duty calls up to them from the ground below. They look down at her, all wide eyes and smiles. “Time to go back inside.”

They climb down as the teacher walks away to tell other kids. The two girls bound towards the school, slowing to a walk as they get closer. Gracie feels something brush against her hand and glances at it just in time to see Olive’s longer fingers wrap around it. She shifts her wide eyes to her friend’s, barely able to contain her joy.

“We should get our dads to read us the same old Nancy Drew book, a chapter each night,” Olive tells her conspiratorially. “Then we can compare notes the next day and see if we can solve it before Nancy.”

“That’s the best idea!” Gracie crows. “We can figure out which one during library time.”

“And then you check it out,” Olive says decisively. “Mrs. Hudson has all of them. I can borrow it from her.”

“Ok,” Gracie agrees, already knowing so much about Olive’s godmother that she doesn’t even question the woman would have the whole series. Honestly, Gracie wants to meet her almost as much as she wants to meet Olive’s detective father.

The two girls giggle for a moment at their new plan and then skip into the school building.

***

Saturday afternoon finds Gracie hand in hand with Candace McCleary, a nanny John handpicked while Gracie was still in Bath. They met the day after Gracie arrived last week and she instantly fell in love with Candace, much to John’s relief. Candace would not be a live-in nanny, but is employed like one. John needs her to get Gracie from school and stay with her until he gets home in the evenings. He also needs her to be available at a moment’s notice for when an emergency, like the birth of a baby, arises. John had warned his daughter after Angela Taylor’s check-up on Wednesday that he thought the baby would come early and probably at a most inconvenient time. Sure enough, he received the call just as he started lunch. Gracie was disappointed that her first trip to Hanover Gate Children’s Playground in Regent’s Park would be without her father, but was still over the moon when Candace was happy to take her. She had been looking forward to it almost all week.

“Oh my gosh!” Gracie exclaims as she and Candace approach the playground. There is equipment everywhere to climb and swing on and slide down. Gracie immediately decides the sandpit is first on her list. A tall tree stands in its center with wooden bridges and walkways built all around it. Rope ladders and nets offer admittance and there is even a hammock to sit on. “Candace, this is amazing! This is the best park ever!”

“Why don’t you jump right in?” the woman laughs. “I’ll just be right on this bench if you need me.”

Candace points to an empty green bench as she speaks and starts heading for it before someone else claims it. Gracie calls out her agreement and makes a b-line for the nearest rope ladder. She is up it in seconds and running across a bouncy bridge, laughing all the way. She runs the whole course, turns right back around and does it again. There are quite a few kids in this part of the park, but it’s still easy to work her way around them. After a few more laps on the equipment, a small group of kids asks Gracie to play tag. She recognizes them from school and accepts.

A good hour later, two of the kids have to go home and Gracie is exhausted. She begs off, having had her mind set on playing in the sand since she and Candace got there. Plopping down in a shady spot, she plunges her hands beneath the beige and brown grains. The sand is cool and dry and feels soft in between her fingers, not like the rough sand that is sometimes used in parks. It’s like the white sand from a beach. She has half a mind to pull her shoes off and let her feet sink into its depths. Gracie closes her eyes and wiggles her fingers, feeling the sand move around them like a favorite blanket. She opens her eyes as she curls her fingers around the tiny grains and watches them slip through when she lifts her hands. 

Gracie does this again and again until she grabs a stick and begins to drag it through the sand like a plow. At one point, she makes a short trench and plants sunflower seeds and raisins from the snack baggy in her pocket. She pats the sand with satisfaction after covering them and looks toward the bench where Candace sits. She waves and her nanny waves back. Gracie giggles and gets to her knees, but stops when a figure just sitting down on the hammock suddenly blocks her view of Candace.

“What the…” Gracie mutters, her mouth falling open in disbelief. She gets to her feet and runs straight for the rope hammock and its occupant, who hears her footfalls and looks up with blue-grey eyes.

“Gracie!” Olive cries in surprise as her friend trips in the sand and drops face-first next to the hammock. “Gracie?”

“I’m okay,” the blonde girl declares, pushing herself up and standing quickly. The two girls lock eyes and start laughing. “What are you doing here?”

“We come every weekend,” Olive replies, pulling Gracie onto the woven rope. “Our flat’s just that way.”

“Really?” Gracie gasps with a delighted squeak. She points in the opposite direction. “Mine’s that way.”

“No way!” Olive shouts with glee. “That’s amazing! I had no idea we lived so close.”

“I know right,” Gracie exclaims, beginning to rock the hammock a bit. Olive unfolds her legs to hang them down and help push. “What are the odds?”

“Well,” Olive considers, adopting her contemplative face. Gracie knows instantly that a deduction is coming. She giggles and her smile widens as she watches her best friend. “Since we go to the same school, it seems fairly likely that we would live close together because it’s usually based on geography. However, it’s a bit different with public school. Kids can come from all parts of London as long as they have the money to pay.”

“Oh my god,” Gracie can barely contain her excitement and she stamps a foot on the ground a few times. “We could play here every weekend! I’m sure I could get Dad to bring me.”

“Yes! Let’s set it up now,” Olive sits up straight, ready to jump off the netting. “Is your dad here?”

“No, he had to deliver a baby,” Gracie rolls her eyes. Olive makes a dismissive noise that sounds like she just opened an air-tight container and sinks back into the hammock “Exactly. I mean, babies are important and all, but now he has to wait another week to see all this.”

Gracie swings her arms out wide and tilts her head skyward before flopping unceremoniously onto her back. Olive lets herself tip backwards as well and they soon lie side by side, looking up at the clouds. Gracie points out one that looks like a panda and proceeds to tell her friend all sorts of facts about pandas.

“I even have a panda,” she finishes.

“You do?” Olive asks, her eyes widen with wonder. 

“Since I was three,” Gracie nods. “She’s my favorite stuffie. She’s called Pandy and I sleep with her every night.”

“I have a bee,” Olive says without hesitation. “I call him Wellington, sometimes Wellies for short.”

“Do you like bees as much as your dad does?” Gracie is curious because Wellington might have been a gift like Pandy was, but it certainly sparked her interest in pandas. 

“I don’t think anyone could like them as much as Dad,” Olive huffs a laugh, “but yeah, I definitely like them too. It’s amazing how they make honey and their whole society and all.”

“Wow. Would you tell me?” Gracie fixes her with a serious gaze and licks her lips. “I loooove honey.”

“Sure, and you can tell me more about pandas,” Olive grins and points to a medium-sized cloud. “That one looks like a catapult.”

Gracie cocks a brow and follows her finger to a cloud that, amazingly enough, does resemble a rudimentary catapult.

The afternoon passes as the two girls tell each other stories and make up new games, their favorite being pirates sailing their hammock boat across the sea to a mysterious island. They leave their spot at this point to explore sandy beaches, nearly being vanquished by a giant hippo and almost losing Olive beneath quicksand. Gracie keeps her head about her and is always within Candace’s line of sight, and it’s a good thing too because the two girls are interrupted as tea time nears.

“I knew I’d find you here,” a low rumble of a voice comes from behind Gracie where she sits facing Olive. They have just dug up a treasure of sunflowers and raisins, a very valuable find on the sea. Their eyes grow wide as a menacing laugh fills the air around them. Gracie swallows hard and turns slowly to see the towering silhouette of a man in a billowy black coat. She shields her eyes, but with the sun behind him, she cannot make out his features. He probably has an eye patch and everything.

“What are you doing on my island?” the man demands as he steps closer. Gracie gasps and pushes herself backwards toward Olive to get away from the dark figure only just coming into focus.

“Hi, girls. Is everything okay?” Candace McCleary asks from the right and Gracie glances at her gratefully. Her trusty companion must have bolted from her park bench as soon as the giant appeared. Now she stands alert as though ready to pounce and Gracie breathes a sigh of relief. She hadn’t even seen this man until it was too late. Gracie grits her teeth and silently berates herself as her father’s words about being observant come to mind.

“Uhhh…” Gracie finds her voice, but it comes out as a meek croak. Meanwhile, Olive leaps up next to her and runs for the figure with open arms. Gracie gapes, sure she is about to see her friend eaten before her very eyes.

“Daddy!” Olive cries, launching herself into the man’s arms. Gracie blinks and it is like a cloud has moved from where it had covered the sun. The giant, no longer in the shadows, transforms into a tall man wearing a nice suit with no tie and a long coat. Gracie finds herself marveling at the fact that he doesn’t appear to be hot in the slightest and momentarily wonders if he has ice in his pockets, but stops all speculation when she sees his face. Angles and cheeks like Olive, dark curls and the same grey eyes that seem to change from green to blue and back. The corners of Gracie’s mouth turn up and a sense of ease washes over her.

“Is it time to go already?” Olive is speaking at a mile a minute. “We only just started playing pirates. Can Gracie come home with us? We’re having Thai for dinner. I bet she’ll like it.”

The tall man chuckles at his daughter and the sound is like a really warm blanket, soft and comfy. He glances at Candace and settles his gaze on Gracie. She bristles for a moment at those all-seeing eyes. It’s true they are like Olive’s, but much wiser. Gracie has the feeling he is learning much more from just watching her than anyone else can. She’s not entirely sure how she feels about that, but supposes it’s why Olive is so perceptive and she loves her. Besides, this is her dad. Gracie feels like she knows him already after all the stories she has heard.

“Ah, so this is the infamous Gracie,” Sherlock says surreptitiously with a look in Olive’s direction. The girl smiles broadly and nods while Gracie smiles a little timidly. His chin dips in greeting. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”

“I know a lot about you too,” Gracie replies as she rises, finding her tenacity again.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Sherlock answers. He turns his attention to Candace, who still looks a touch uneasy. “And this is your friend?”

“Yeah,” Gracie confirms enthusiastically. “This is Candace.”

She jumps up and grabs Olive’s hand, pulling her toward the young woman.

“And this is Olive,” she exclaims.

“Oh,” the last traces of suspicion vanish from Candace’s eyes and she gestures at the girls. “Of course. You’re Olive. Gracie has been telling me about you all week.” “And this is my dad,” Olive introduces. “Sher…”

“William,” Sherlock interrupts, offering his hand. Candace steps forward and takes it in a firm shake. “Will.”

“Nice to meet you,” Candace replies, not noticing the quizzical look on Olive’s face, but Gracie sees. She also sees Sherlock glance at his daughter and communicate something that clears the confusion from Olive’s mind in an instant. Gracie tilts her head in thought, considering this new information. She and John can do that sometimes too. It makes her that much more certain that Olive is meant to be her best friend.

“It’s quite a coincidence them meeting in the park like this,” Candace is saying when Gracie emerges from her thoughts. “Do you live around here?”

“Yes, just on Baker Street,” Sherlock answers politely, but with a tinge of the tone Olive has when she mutters that something is obvious. Gracie lets out a quick giggle.

“Oh, right,” Candace nods with a friendly smile. “That’s not far at all. Maybe we’ll see you here again.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Sherlock looks down at the two girls, both of which are very excited. Olive is almost dancing in place and Gracie would swear she needed the toilet if she didn’t know better. “We’re here every Saturday just after lunch.”

“Perfect,” Candace says. “That’s about when we arrived. I’ll let her father know too. He’ll usually be the one who brings her.”

“He had a baby to deliver,” Gracie supplies. “He’s a doctor.”

“So Olive tells me,” Sherlock tells her with a certain mirth in his tone. “I would very much like to meet him, especially now that I’ve met you.”

“He’s wanted to all week,” Olive exclaims, giving Gracie’s hand a squeeze. “Ever since the first day.”

“I just can’t believe we ran into each other like this,” Candace declares, still a little dumbfounded.

Gracie doesn’t hear Sherlock’s response because Olive leans in close to whisper in her ear how great it will be when their fathers meet. The blonde nods her head vigorously and they laugh together quietly.

“Oh my, it’s nearly tea time,” Candace says to her watch. “I have to get her home. Are you ready, Gracie?”

“I guess so,” the girl pouts. She throws her arms around Olive in a huge hug. “I can’t wait to see you on Monday.”

Gracie gasps and looks at Olive with wide eyes, her hands still clamped around her arms.

“I’m going to write you a special note tomorrow and make a comic with my favorite markers,” she announces with glee. “They smell like strawberries and grapes and stuff.”

“Oh, wow!” Olive hoots. “I’ll make one of my maps for you.”

“It could be of this park!” Gracie shouts as Candace’s mobile sounds. She pulls it from her pocket and glances at its screen, pressing the surface to turn off the alarm.

“We really have to be going,” Candace says apologetically. “It was so nice to meet you both.”

“And you as well,” Sherlock dips his chin in farewell as Candace takes Gracie’s hand and leads her away.

“Bye, Gracie!” Olive calls, waving madly.

“Bye!” the blonde shouts back.

Olive waves for a good thirty seconds and then turns to face her father with her arms crossed over her chest. She raises a brow expectantly and Sherlock knows precisely why, but says nothing.

“Let’s go, shall we?” he begins walking toward home, knowing she will follow. “I believe Mrs. Hudson is making fresh biscuits.”

“What was that about, Dad?” Olive asks in disbelief, already matching his steps. “Why William?”

“You know I use aliases at times,” Sherlock replies without looking at her.

“Yeah, for cases, but these aren’t criminals,” Olive insists. “These are my friends.”

“I know, love,” he turns his head to see her earnest expression looking up at him. “I just don’t want to prejudice Gracie’s father.”

“What’s prejudice?” Olive furrows her brow as she repeats the word.

“Well, you know my profession can be dangerous,” Sherlock begins.

“Yeah…” Olive says slowly, eyeing him curiously.

“A lot of people know that because they see my name in the media,” he explains. “I don’t want Gracie’s father to hear my name and assume Gracie will be in danger. I’m concerned he will get the wrong impression and feel uncomfortable about you being friends.”

“Oh,” Olive says flatly as if she hadn’t considered that. They walk in silence for a moment until she speaks up again. He knew she would. She is too smart and inquisitive not to have follow-up questions. “So what are you going to do when we’ve been friends for months and it’s time to tell them your real name? Say ‘By the way, my name is really Sherlock Holmes.’?”

Sherlock gives her a withering look and says nothing. Her jaw drops and she shoves him lightly.

“Dad! You can’t NOT tell them,” Olive insists. She bends at the knees slightly to emphasize the word not. “It’s dishonest. Dad, it’s lying.”

“Sometimes we lie for the greater good,” Sherlock tells her curtly.

“Now you sound like Mycroft,” Olive sneers and that stops Sherlock dead in his tracks. He turns to face her, dropping into a squat and meeting her eyes.

“I would do anything for you, Olive,” he says sincerely, resting his hands on her shoulders. She curls the corner of her mouth and cocks a brow.

“Dad,” Olive begins matter-of-factly, “I know that and I would do anything for you too, but you told me I couldn’t lie.”

“Yes. Yes, I did,” Sherlock sighs and then continues resolutely. “You’re right. I’ll introduce myself properly when we meet Gracie’s father. Okay?”

“Okay,” Olive grins and they walk again, hand in hand.

“Olive?” Sherlock says, glancing her way. She looks up at him in answer. “Don’t compare me to Mycroft again.”

Olive lets out a quiet chortle and tightens her grip on his fingers. 

“Desperate measures,” she replies more than a little pleased with herself. Sherlock puffs a quick breath through his nose and smirks as they walk on. Like father, like daughter.

---

What the hell, Jane?? I know what you said at the beginning, but this is unfair. Gracie and Candace get to meet Sherlock, but not John?! I want the boys to meet again! NOW! So sorry, my friends, but you'll have to wait a bit longer. Worry not, it will happen. Eventually. (insert evil smile, cruel chuckle and holding of fingertips together like Mr. Burns) Love, Jane

@johnlock-rocks

[trashogram]

Ryuk/Reader 4.5: Not my best 

A/N: This is leading up to the next part, but it’s definitely filler. Feel free to skip?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You trembled, but not from the rain still slicked over your skin.

You’d come home drenched, hopping inside the foyer and up two flights of stairs to your apartment with keys already held out in shaking hands. The trek from work to home had been arduous and you were cold and tired, heartbeat just now coming down from walking alone at night.

But when the door closed behind you and you leaned down to peel off your soaked shoes, you froze. In the corner of your eye, you could see slivers of yellow and red in the far corner of your living room. You weren’t safe after all.

Behind your ribs, your heart seemed to stop altogether as the presence looked at you from above.

“Sorry.” A gravelly voice came from the darkness, not sounding sorry at all. His words came like a ripple, or better yet a riptide; oscillating with his deep, throaty laughter. “- Thought I’d just let myself in.”

“You don’t mind, do you?”

---

“Hey.”

Your shoulders instinctively rose up to your ears, feeling goosebumps beginning to take over your skin.

Playing it off as a stretching exercise, you leaned back and put your weight on the heels of your basic black flats. The bakery floor may have looked shiny, but you were certain that you didn’t have to worry about falling with how sticky it actually was.

You exhaled with relief, pressure alleviated from the blisters reforming on your toes for a moment of mercy.

“Don’t ignore me.”

Your coworker was in the backroom, stacking boxes in an otherwise unkempt pantry of pastry ingredients. Above you, the built-in speaker that played music from your supervisor’s computer in the back office filled up the silence of a currently empty store. The songs from a Top 40 station went in and out of your consciousness, most of them bad and bland.

But they provided some cover. “Quit it. You know I can’t talk to you here.”

Ryuk snorted, having planted himself on the floor behind the register. He peered up from the counter, claws tapping playfully on its surface while his yellow eyes locked on you.

“Yeah, not when there ‘re people around.” He muttered. “But ain’t nobody around right now.”

Despite half-hiding from view, you could see the shinigami’s blue lips stretch upward as he grinned up at you. You sighed.

It was Tuesday, and predictably there hadn’t been that many customers coming round for cake and tarts. Your workplace offered coffee too, but there were multiple shops along the cobbled streets offering the same thing and a few particulars with better publicity and further outreach.

“Well,” You spoke softly. “What do you want?”

“Tell me where we’re going this weekend.”

There was a rattling sound that came from the stockroom, and it muffled the laughter bubbling from your lips. “Oh my god, you’re still on that?”

The gray-blue grin shifted, and you could imagine Ryuk hiding a pout just out of your sight.

You waited as movement caught your eye, and you straightened up to stand on your feet as a woman paused in front of the storefront window. Tufts of her dark hair poked out from beneath the thick woolen scarf around her neck and the heavy designer overcoat wrapped around her shoulders, like straw sticking up from a scarecrow. Her eyes scanned the display cases from outside, ignorant of the smile you plastered on while being watched.

Ryuk was still sitting on the ground, looking at you, but his presence went unchecked. Any stranger on the street would never be able to see the literal god in their little shop, not unless they came in contact with the death note that you always remembered to leave at home.  

“You made it sound so interesting.” Ryuk followed, despite you being unable to answer. “But then you never actually told me what we’re doing.”

The woman walked away after another moment, reaching into her oversized purse and grabbing her lit up phone. It made you sigh again, this time in relief.

Shinigami or no, you were always mollified when someone decided against coming into the shop. It could get boring, sure, but you preferred to be paid to just stand there than to potentially come in contact with busybodies and demanding folk, descriptions that fit that lady to a T.

“I mean, technically we aren’t doing anything.” You turned your nose up at Ryuk teasingly. “I’m the one who got invited, so I’m really the only one that has to be in the know.”

Ryuk pulled himself up off the floor and hunched over you, easily overshadowing your much smaller figure. “That’s not fair.”

You smiled at him, only partially confident until he made your insides squirm.

“But you want me to go with you.” He teased back, bopping your nose with one black talon. “You want me with you wherever you go.”

Instantly, you stuck your tongue out at the demonic entity, snatching up his finger as he continued to tap, tap, tap on your nose just as he’d done with the countertop. “Nuh-uh.”

“Yuh-huh.” He mimicked.

Your hand wrapped around his finger without you thinking, and you didn’t let go as you shook your head vehemently, sliding down to rest your fingers on his knuckles. The two of you were practically holding hands, though his dwarfed yours by a wide margin.

“Nuh-uh. Obviously, you’re coming with me because you have to.” You retorted. “I don’t really get to decide.”

Your eyebrow raised at Ryuk’s light snickering. It was a lot softer than his usual hacking laughter. “Bullshit.”

You opened your mouth to retaliate, but stopped short, in part due to confusion. On the other side of the room, a loud thump was heard before your coworker John came out of the storeroom, dragging his feet behind him.

“What’s up?” He nodded to your hand after a cursory glance.

Ryuk’s hand tightened around yours until you had to bite back a sound of surprise, at that and the rumbling that came from him upon being interrupted. It was unusual as, though Ryuk never invested much interest in any of the people you worked with, he was at least genial where John was concerned.

With a tug, you retracted your hand and smiled warmly.

“Just, uh, waving at somebody.” You said. “Waving back, anyway. People are way too friendly, sometimes.”

You moved out of the way to let John get behind you, and watched as he discarded wrappers and tape with a laugh laced in hysteria. “I’d rather they were too friendly than if they were assholes.”

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Your eyes narrowed. “I think you’re not considering the full spectrum of ‘too friendly’ like I am.”

“Well, okay, I mean that’s different.” John grimaced. “Tourists and old ladies with no teeth aren’t that bad compared to that.”

“What? No, the old ladies with no teeth are exactly the ones I’m talking about.” You smirked, eyes rolling up to the ceiling where Ryuk stood, this time hanging upside down. “They’re the real fiends, with their… loose gums… How dare they.”

It made you warm as both John and Ryuk chuckled at your silliness.

---

Out the door and into the crowded streets you went, immediately jamming earbuds into your ears and staring down at your phone. “Finally.”

You merely looked at the screen, not really doing anything but swiping through multiple apps as Ryuk floated beside you.  

“What now?” He asked, head tilting from one side to the other, cracking his neck though you couldn’t hear a thing.

You hummed, starting to walk down the street. “Home. My feet are killing me.”

“Aww,” He had risen higher to avoid the crowd, but you could still hear him as if he were speaking right into your ear. “That’s all?”

“Well, I don’t get paid until Friday, so anything extra automatically costs too much.” You reasoned. “Even if I did have the money though, it would still be better to use over the weekend.”  

“Wait! Yeah!” Ryuk exclaimed. “You still haven’t told me what we’re doing!”

You smirked, standing a little taller as you crossed the street onto another block. Honestly, you weren’t that ecstatic about having plans. If you thought too much about what was essentially going out of your comfort zone come Friday, you would definitely second-guess going at all.

That would only lead to another malaise of self-loathing, which would most definitely lead you to becoming helpless and spiralling into another soul-crushing depression.  

“Are you listening to me? Helloooo?” Ryuk’s voice surfaced in your mind, registering a little later than it should’ve. “Hey, don’t ignore me. We’re not at your work, you can’t pretend I don’t exist anymore!”

The fog around your brain was clearing, but not completely.

“I never ignore you because I want to.” You said monotonously.

Ahead of you was the entrance to the rail station, and you hoped that you’d be able to catch a train without too long of a wait. You weren’t the most patient person on the planet, not after a work day. And in your experience, you often found yourself in the midst of something questionable or creepy while waiting for too long at any stop.

A cursory look around you showed that you’d made it to the tunnel entrance following a lunch rush. There were fewer people this uphill, cramming into the station to head home, with the sun still shining for another hour or two.

“I keep forgetting that the sun sets at like 4 P.M. now” You mused aloud. “I swear I’ll never get used to it, no matter how old I get.”

The lack of a response made you halt, pivoting around to see Ryuk a few feet behind you. Obviously, he’d noticed the lack of people around them and had been freed to meet the ground again, but your head tilted in confusion as he stood back and stared at you.

“... What?” Your brow furrowed. The persistent quiet apart from a few cars passing by and the flicker of street lights coming on unnerved you. “What’s wrong?”  

“Come on.” Awkwardly you simpered, offering a gloved hand to your companion. He looked at your hand, but otherwise didn’t move. Inexplicably you thought back to a few hours prior, when the death god had insisted on trapping your hand in his and not letting it go, not even when John came back to the front.

“What? Are you mad at me or something?” You asked. Your foot began tapping on asphalt, and your blisters screamed. “Because I haven’t told you what we’re doing?”

“Huh?”

You blinked as Ryuk shifted in place, sounding distant. His eyes flitted from your hand back to your face, bright and dazed. “What? Oh. Uh, yeah.”

“If I wanted to, I could write your name down for keeping secrets from me.” He cleared his throat. “Better spit it out.”

Weariness following the weight lifted off your shoulders at the obvious bravado in his tone (because you had no idea what Ryuk was like when he was actually mad), you cracked a smile.

“It’s not the big deal you’re making it out to be. When I tell you, you’ll think it’s stupid.” Your racing heart began to slow, respite increasing as Ryuk took to following you again.

[megalony]

Sweetheart- Part 13

Another part of my latest bodyguard! Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone is enjoying so far. There is a lot of angst but some fluff in this part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction

Series taglist: @anikatcmh @sillyscissorsnerdsoul

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) didn't feel brave.

Sitting there on the second row near to the witness stand, she felt as small as a speck of dust and just as insignificant. Yet with the eyes of her family glaring holes into her, she felt like it was only her and them in the vast room.

She could feel her brothers and her father staring at her like she was the bain of their existence and in a way, she was. She was the person who had brought them here, she had put them up on that stand in front of a judge and jury for them to be seen as the incompetent, harsh, violent people that they really were. None of them would be here if (Y/n) hadn't of stolen the logbook and made a statement and listed all of the deals and transactions that took place which she knew were illegal. They would have gotten away with everything if it weren't for her.

But why should she feel bad?

John had been twelve when she was born, he had twelve years over her and that meant when (Y/n) was younger he was bigger and taller and stronger than she was so he could push her around. He could scare her and frighten her into being so afraid she would never dare put her toe out of the lines her family drew around her. Mark was nine years older but he was a baby, he was a coward who would only give her a shove when he knew no one was watching and even then he would cower back himself.

Her father had been different. He was there half of the time but it felt like he was watching her every second of every day. He controlled where she went when she was little and when she grew up he was still just as strict. Her brothers had free will because they wanted to be part of the family business but (Y/n) had never wanted to, the thought scared her and her father felt he had to frighten her even more to make sure she didn't stray.

Leaving home was the biggest thing (Y/n) had ever done before having Goldie and it was her choice. Her choice to get a job, to get her own home, to have a baby, to go to trial. All of this was her choice and her father hated not having that control over her.

She deserved to see them be put away, she deserved that satisfaction that John wasn't going to kick her or threaten her any more. That Mark wouldn't try and threaten her or strangle her. That her father wouldn't control what she did or hire people to try and hurt or even kill her. She deserved to be with Ben and to bring up Goldie with him without looking over her shoulder in fear that she or her family were going to get hurt.

Daring to lift her head, (Y/n) looked up to her left, letting her eyes trail over the three family members she had left. The three men she was condemning who were no longer her family and never really had been. John was standing on the left which was closest to where (Y/n) and Ben were sitting, then her father was stood in the middle and Mark practically quivering on the right.

Ben slipped his hand into (Y/n)'s when John's lips curved into a rather crude smirk that sent shivers up (Y/n)'s spine. He looked like he did the other day when he hurt her. Like he was thinking of that memory and wanted to do it again.

(Y/n) wanted to bow her head down and close her eyes as tightly as she could but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the three men on the stand. She wanted to watch their reactions when the verdicts came back because the jury were back now and it was the moment of truth. (Y/n) had given her statement, she had shown the court the evidence and explained it and there had been other witnesses who both agreed with her statement and tried to discredit her. Now the jury had to say if the three of them were guilty or innocent and there was surely no way they could say that any of them were innocent.

The judge had said that they would charge each man individually and give them an individual sentence and the first up was Mark. He looked like he was about to cry when the jury said guilty, (Y/n) saw him quiver like he was a piece of flimsy paper that was swaying in the autumn breeze. Yet (Y/n) couldn't feel sorry for him because he did this. He took the bribe, he joined the family business in the first place and he didn't have the guts to walk away.

Next up was her father.

(Y/n) watched how he tried to keep a straight face but when his eyes found her he wanted to snarl but when he thought about the verdict he was getting he almost laughed as he was so sure he would be let off. His reactions made (Y/n) wonder if he had bribed someone, maybe some of the jury or had gotten her evidence removed or maybe he had bribed the judge himself. He just looked so sure he was walking away when he must know he was in deep trouble here because there was no way he could walk away unless he bribed the judge.

A small tingle of satisfaction swarmed through (Y/n) when she watched her father's face drop like he was suddenly experiencing a stroke when he heard the word guilty rattle through the room.

He had tried to bribe someone. There was no other explination for how angry he looked and how there was almost steam coming out of his ears to the point (Y/n) thought his head was going to blow up like a cartoon. His hands latched around the brass handrail in front of him as his eyes seemed to zoom in on (Y/n) with a sense of pure hatred that she had never seen in her father or anyone else before. And it was directed at her.

"You bitch! You're dead now-" (Y/n) almost jumped at the words her father bellowed which turned the whole courtroom silent. The judge didn't even have to ask for the guards standing behind the three men to drag him away so he couldn't be any more of a disruption. They also took Mark with them since he had been charged already and was close to blubbering.

(Y/n) felt her heart hammering against her chest as she still couldn't manage to drag her eyes away as her father was dragged fro the stand he was so desperate to stay on so he could spout his threats and violence. She partially heard some of the threats he was shouting as they dragged him away before the room fell silent once again. Everyone taking a moment to try and recover and act like that didn't happen.

Ben let go of (Y/n)'s hand so he could slip his arm around her waist, keeping her pressed to his side as he rested his chin on his other hand, his elbow propped up on the armrest as he was sitting on the end of the row which made for a quick getaway if needed. His eyes found John's and he wished they were closer so he could wipe the smirk right from his lips. Ben wished he had managed to do more than break one rib, he wished he had smashed John's head into the counter instead of his chest or broken his legs so he wasn't able to hurt either of Ben's girls. But all he could get for some sort of revenge and satisfaction now was to watch him be sent down.

Ben had never felt his heart tighten and crunch in the way it did when he heard the word innocent quiver through one of the jury's lips.

He felt like someone had stabbed him and he knew what that felt like but he had never had his brain animate it like this before. His head started to swim but his mind rattled at the guttural scream that left (Y/n)'s lips and pierced through his ear which surely was bleeding by now.

(Y/n) latched her hands onto the wooden back of the seat in front of her as she stood up, tears beginning to fall from her eyes as her brother smiled like she had never seen before. She could see his teeth through his lips like a shark grinning at its prey. How could they do this to her- how could he do this to her? He was in the logbook, he had personally written in it and signed his name. (Y/n) had seen him and told them all about what he had done- minus what he had done to her and Goldie. He should be in prison now, he couldn't be the only one who got free.

Mark was more deserving of the innocent verdict than John if one of them had to be let go.

Words tumbled from (Y/n)'s lips but she could hardly hear them over the buzzing in her ears. She screamed as she cried at them all, her eyes darting between everyone because they had just killed Goldie. If John was let free he would come after (Y/n) for even daring to go ahead with the trial. He would try and find and hurt her and then he would realise that Goldie was still alive and he would hurt her too. He would be worse than he was before because hurting (Y/n) three days ago didn't even make him break a sweat, he would be a lot worse now and he was free.

"Come on." Ben whispered the words as he wrapped his arms around (Y/n), trying to be careful as he practically dragged her from the row they had been sitting on but she fought against him. "Sweetheart we have to go."

They would drag (Y/n) out if she didn't leave no because she was causing a scene even if she was upset she still couldn't speak during the trial. Ben hooked his arms around her waist and hoisted her up, holding her back to his chest as he lifted her feet from the ground and carried her to the doors. Thankful someone opened it for him so he could get (Y/n) out into the corridor away from everyone.

As soon as her feet were planted on the ground again (Y/n) tried to fight against Ben. She tried to pull from his arms and get back into the courtroom, she wanted to scream at them for how incompetent they were being. To swear and shout at whoever had taken the bribe or succumbed to the threats and let her brother off the hook.

Turning (Y/n) around Ben grabbed her wrists when she tried to hit him in the chest, lashing and writhing in his grip but it was useless. She was still weakened from having Goldie and the stitches and Ben was taller and stronger than she was, it didn't take much for him to stop her from going back into the room. Ben kept her hands pinned to his chest as he moved her so her back was against the wall. His forehead resting against her own as he stayed silent, waiting for (Y/n)'s sobs to quieten down and for her to stop fighting against him.

"H-he... he can't do t-this..." (Y/n) could hardly get the words past her lips as she gasped for air like a fish out of water. She wanted to go home, she wanted to take Goldie home, she wanted to feel safe and be out of danger but nothing was going their way.

Her hands latched around Ben's shirt to tug him closer until his chest was pressed against hers. He let go of her wrists when she started to shake, no longer fighting against him. Ben gently pressed his hands to either side of (Y/n)'s face, trying to brush away the tears falling from her eyes but more kept on falling in their place.

"I know it hurts, darlin' believe me I do. But you're not the judge, you did everything you could and you got your dad away, that was the reason for coming here today. John has no business without your dad there, he has no one working for him." Ben knew it felt like a knife to the heart but they weren't in charge here and they couldn't do anything. If John went to prison when they wanted him to be innocent they could appeal but they had no other evidence and no other crimes to get him sentenced again.

They had to let him walk free.

John couldn't just start up his father's business again, it was clear he was working for his dad and not with him and with their dad being put away John was left with very little. He didn't have people working for him and Ben doubted he hand the funds to hire them either. He was on his own and he was defenceless which is what they needed.

"It's not fair." (Y/n) felt like a child whining because she didn't get her own way but she deserved it. She deserved to have things go in her direction for once in her life.

Putting her father away wasn't enough anymore. In the beginning, she didn't care all that much if John and Mark got sentenced because her father was the enemy but now part of her wished it was John and not her father because he hurt Goldie. John tried to make her lose her baby, he was the one who attacked her and he was the one who had endangered her daughter, she would never be able to forgive or forget what he had done and she needed him punished for that. Getting off scot-free was not adequate.

Ben pressed his lips longingly to her forehead before (Y/n) pressed her face into his chest.

"Oh I know, sweetheart. Come on, we're going back to Goldie before he comes out." Ben couldn't make this better but he wasn't going to let it get any worse by waiting around for John to come out so the siblings could lock horns. He would be gloating at his victory and it would tear (Y/n) apart, Ben wasn't having that.

The moment (Y/n) pulled away from the wall a groan escaped her lips as her eyes snapped closed. Her head staying tucked into Ben's chest as he looked down at her in worry and confusion. Gently pulling her back, Ben rested one hand to her neck as the other held her shoulder, trying to look at her to see what the problem was but she tried to bury herself back into him as if he could take away the sudden pains.

"Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

(Y/n) pressed her hand to her lower stomach as she whimpered, closing her eyes as Ben crouched down in front of her. Moving her hand to he could pull up her shirt to find the sudden problem.

"Shit. Baby you've pulled your stitches, we need to get you back to the hospital." Ben lowered her shirt again after seeing the blood beginning to seep onto her skin as quite a few of the stitches had pulled apart. Most likely from Ben having to carry her out and then her fighting him to get back inside. She was meant to be taking it easy because of how many stitches she had and where they were situated but now they would have to be taken out and redone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Was that Joe?" (Y/n) questioned when Ben walked back into the room, stuffing his phone into his pocket. He had been gone for over ten minutes after leaving the room when his phone rang. (Y/n) was hoping it would be Joe because she wanted the pair of them to patch things up, they had been friends for years and she didn't want to be part of the reason why they had a fight.

(Y/n) bit her lip at the look on Ben's face as he shook his head, he looked perplexed, like he had seen a ghost or had just been given an ultimatum. He moved to sit down on the edge of the bed as (Y/n) pushed herself more into a sitting position. Wincing at the new stitches that were beginning to burn a little.

"Haven't spoken to him since this morning." Ben responded with a shake of his head. He would text Joe in the morning when the both of them had more time to calm down as he knew (Y/n) would text him in a moment to tell him the verdict of the trial.

Joe hadn't meant what he said and Ben knew it, he also regretted the way he handled it but they needed time to cool down.

"Ben, what's wrong?" (Y/n) knew Ben long enough to know the different expressions he wore and how he expressed his feelings. She could see that he was either worried or just debating something but he didn't look happy or normal at all. Ben was always the one who had things under control, the only time she had seen him lose his cool was in the shop when John attacked her. Other than that he had a calm and collected manner and he knew what to do but now he didn't look like he knew what he was supposed to do.

"My manager called me, your brother talked to her."

(Y/n) couldn't catch her breath, they knew what Ben's job was so they knew his name and they knew his manager. Ben didn't strictly work to a signed hour contract like most people and he didn't report to his manager very often. He worked for an agency rather than be a self-working bodyguard because he got a better reputation and it ensured more jobs and better pay. But if her brother found out about Ben it meant they were in more danger even with her father put away.

"He acted the worried brother, told her that I got you pregnant whilst I was working for you."

"B-but you told her-" (Y/n) knew Ben had told his manager that he and her had been together before he took the job so she got pregnant before he worked for her and he wanted to protect her. His manager couldn't have a go at him for protecting his girlfriend and he would be in the clear.

"I spun her a lie and she knew it. Even if your brother was spouting shit she'd have to look into it and if she does and then talks to your brother he'll know Goldie's alive. I had to tell her I slept with you on the job." Ben's manager wasn't stupid and it was a bit of a coincidence if Ben did get (Y/n) pregnant and then she asked him to protect her but if (Y/n) didn't say anything his manager couldn't refute what he had said.

Now her brother had told the truth for once it showed Ben had lied and he couldn't try and cover it up because she would talk to (Y/n) and then if she talked to John again he would be after Goldie quicker than lightning when he realised she was alive. Ben had to come clean to make sure his manager didn't talk to John again and to keep Goldie safe.

"Can't I talk to her... you didn't take advantage and we both know it, surely she'll listen." (Y/n) felt her lips pulling into a frown as she tried not to let the tears fall. Ben didn't deserve this, he had been doing his job for five years now and he was damn good at what he did. He knew what he was doing and he had protected hundreds of people and built up a reputation. (Y/n) didn't want to be the reason that reputation went down the toilet she didn't want to take his job away from him because it wasn't fair. He had protected her and saved her life and she repaid him by getting him in trouble.

"My contract states I have free will over what hours I work, who I work with, that I get all the money the clients pay without the extra tax from the agency. But it clearly states I would be breaching the rules if I kissed, touched inappropriately or slept with the clients because I have to be professional. Doesn't matter if I didn't take advantage of you."

Ben had a lot more leeway and loopholes than most other jobs but it still had boundaries and that meant Ben needed to stick to them. He couldn't act inappropriately with clients and that meant that if he kissed them or touched them in the wrong way or if he went so far as to have sex with them he was not being professional. If he broke the rules of his contract then he couldn't work for that agency anymore and he had admitted to it.

"You didn't-"

"I slept with you and I did that way more than once. Someone who slept with a client can't work with them anymore because its a compromise and my manager turned a blind eye because I lied to her in the beginning. You consented but I shouldn't have let it happen in the beginning, I broke the boundaries of my contract, we can't deny that." Ben's words were spoken in a calm and considered tone which contrasted to what he said and (Y/n) didn't know how he could be so calm about it.

Ben knew he wasn't meant to be with (Y/n) when working for her but he slept with her again and again and formed a relationship with her against the rules. Ben didn't care that he broke the rules and he especially didn't care now that it resulted in Goldie. He wasn't going to lie because he wasn't ashamed or unhappy or worried about his job. It didn't mean as much to him as his girls.

"What happens now?" (Y/n) found her voice to be meek and quiet, Ben seemed to fine with this when she had practically ruined his career.

"We compromised. They can't have me in the agency but I said I quit and she agreed that they won't put this on my record. I get a perfectly clean and good CV and reputation for a new job and I have my family, win-win situation." If Ben put up a fight he knew they would fire him and it would go on his CV or record that he slept with his client and it made him unreliable and look bad.

But if he said he quit then they didn't have to look into it and they could let him go with a clean record and a very high CV and a good word for his next job. He got to keep his reputation which would help to find a good job and he got his family without anything else going wrong. It was what he wanted since he found out they were having Goldie. He was happy about this and he needed (Y/n) to see that this wasn't her fault. This was good for him.

"But you can't be a bodyguard now, what are you going to do now?" Leaning forward, Ben pulled (Y/n) into his arms as gently as he could, kissing the side of her head in the process.

"Sweetheart, this isn't the only job I've had. I used to work as a bouncer at clubs, I've been a lifeguard when I was your age. I don't care what I do as long as it doesn't take me away from my girls. I couldn't keep doing this job with Goldie anyway, I'd be gone for months at a time and I'm not missing out on her life. You both mean more to me than anything else."

Ben had had various jobs, he dipped in and out of jobs until he found that being a bodyguard had suited him well for the past five years.

But his mother was right, Ben couldn't do this job forever and even if he had thought before that he wanted to do this for a few more years, she was still right by saying if he wanted a steady relationship or a family he couldn't do this. He couldn't be with (Y/n) if he was gone for at least three months at a time protecting people and he would miss out on Goldie's life by disappearing. He had been protecting (Y/n) for over nine months now and he couldn't leave for nearly a year with his girls on his mind.

Ben wasn't missing Goldie's first words or her beginning to walk or her first day of school or caring for her at the night. He wasn't disappearing and leaving her life because she was the most important thing to him.

He didn't care what job he had, as long as he was with his girls.

[liquidstar]

33, 52, 75, 89, 91, 92

Sorry I’m replying a bit late!! For context for other people I said that it’s okay if you just send a number with no character and I’ll answer it for the main 4 (And any others I may have something to say about) so they may be a bit shorter since its for four characters! Anyway it’s a bit long so I’ll do it under the cut so I don’t clog people’s dashes

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

Amary: The inability to live up to certain expectations, as in, failing as a queen. And the truth of the matter is she has to face failure and she has to face becoming a queen someday, but I don’t know if she could handle both at once. She needs practice with failure, and she needs to grow into her own person before she’s ready to become a queen. That’s a big part of her arc really.

Rue: I think she’s just afraid of hurting people she cares about, and with her background it makes sense, if she were to hurt someone she cared about in a major way she’d probably react by running away from it and isolating, she wouldn’t think of apologizing because she’d think she’s beyond redemption.

Aloe: This one is the easiest because it’s actually something brought to the forefront with him. He’s afraid of death, but not his own. The idea that people close to him could die at any moment is a side-effect of having a mother that goes on life threatening missions often, and it manifested in OCD issues. That being said though… He’s probably the strongest out of the main four in this regard, even if he was left broken he could piece himself back together.

Sorrel: Unlike the other three his fear is less abstract, it’s concrete and physical. He’s just afraid of his dad, he’s afraid of confronting him specifically. And unlike the other three it’s not something he has the option of not thinking about, he has to! He has to confront it daily! And obviously something like that leads to a lot of issues down the road, it’s a lot to unpack.

52. What is their body type? Are they muscular, chubby, skinny, etc?

Amary: Freshmen year Amary is like five foot nothing and super dainty, the intent is mostly to make her look like she’s taking up as little space as possible. Senior year Amary is taller, she’s less of a twig but she’s still pretty lanky.

Rue: Freshmen year Rue is short, but taller than Amary, she’s chubby and combined with her height it makes her kind of.. Stout? I’m not sure if that’s the right word or if I’m just thinking of the teapot rhyme. Unlike the rest though she doesn’t get to much taller, a couple inches maybe but by Senior year the high difference is reversed.

Aloe: Freshmen year Aloe is taller than Rue and on the chubby side but unlike Rue he’s got a bit of a more square build. Senior year Aloe is the tallest of the main four (or maybe tied with Amary), and as the only one out of the them to use an actual weapon instead of magic for combat he gains a bit of muscle too. That plus some sort of implied magic top surgery by junior year.

Sorrel: Freshmen year Sorrel is the tallest out of the main four but still pretty scrawny and scrappy looking. Senior year Sorrel only gets a couple inches taller, like Rue, and like Aloe he does look visibly stronger, taking after his sister a bit. Not as much though since his main focus is speed.

75. If given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Amary: A bunch of little doodles probably, none of them really all that great but she’s just trying to kill time not end up in the fantasy MoMA

Rue: Paper airplane, that was she can throw it around as much as she wants until it gets old after the 5th time

Aloe: I mean… Now is a good a time as any to do homework I guess. He’s gotta do it anyway.

Sorrel: Cover it in The S

89. What is their D&D alignment?

I’m not a pro at D&D alignments here so I’m just giving my best approximation lol

Amary: Lawful good at first until she evolves into a chaotic good by the end

Rue: Chaotic neutral at first and chaotic good by the end, really they just find a middle ground

Aloe: Lawful good but unlike Amary he stands by it (But he does go through a bit of a lawful neutral phase at some point)

Sorrel: Kind of a neutral good, I think he’s a bit of a mediator for the group in that aspect

92. Describe them as a John Mulaney gif.

I’m too lazy to get gifs so I’ll just say the quote… Also I’m skipping 91 because I cannot find good tweets… Maybe some other time u_u sorry but to make up for that ill just do the whole class for this one and Aster+Reed

Amary: I listen to everything my girlfriend says. I don’t mean she bosses me around, I just listen to everything she says because before I had a girlfriend, I never had someone who’s always standing next to me who can just point out obvious things that are happening.

Rue: I bet you part of the reason goths are so miserable is they wake up every morning and think, “Oh god, I gotta put all that shit back on. Why did I join?”

Aloe: My mommy, so shut the fuck up!

Sorrel: If you’re an adult male that sees no flaws in your father you’re an insane person.

Carnation: Just you raising your hand and being like, “I think Emily Dickinson’s a lesbian.” And they’re like, “Partial credit.”

Pine: You spend most of your day telling a robot that you’re not a robot. Think about that for two minutes and tell me you don’t want to walk into the ocean.

Geran: I’ll just keep all my emotions right here (Points to heart) and then one day, I’ll die.

Fennel: I thought it was a little too dramatic. I didn’t need the whole little brother dying thing.

Musk: It’s wrong to make fun of people, you know, but it’s so fun sometimes. 

Gallica: Hmm, we’re not so different, you and I. You have your law practice, and me, I have all these fucking markers.

Protea: I don’t know how to lightly make fun of people, I can’t be like “Oh, look at your shirt!” I have to be like “Your wife left you.”

Daisy: [Pepper]  is my best friend in the world. I give her a million kisses a day. She does not like me, and barks at me and bites me all day long.

Maggie: Everyone get outta my way, I just wanna sit here and feed my birds.

Tam: Well… you know how I’m filled with rage? (nods knowingly)

Holly: I need everybody, all day long, to like me so much.

Hyacinth: No one look at me or I’ll kill myself!

Aster: “Yeah, I don’t wanna work!” And I was like, “You know the kids don’t wanna work either” and she was like (closes eyes and slurs) “Good!” (pantomimes taking a shot)

Reed: And then, he ordered one black coffee for himself. And kept driving.

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

Hey guys, so this is the first chapter to my newest fic, its a modern times, fake dating, maylor fanfic and I hope you all like it. It’s also posted in AO3 and i will be up tonight on Wattpad. 

Description: 

Brian May, 21

13 kilometers away

I am looking for someone to come with me to a Christmas dinner and pretend that we have been dating for two months.

The morning started out slow. Brian woke up and opened every single curtain in the house, letting the sun stream into the small apartment. Then he waddled over to the kitchen in his old socks and started making coffee and tea for himself and his flatmates.

He turned on the old radio in the kitchen and flipped through a couple of stations before giving up on finding something interesting to hear. He tuned into the rock station, the one who had The White Stripes complete discography playing on a loop, and started to make breakfast.

The smell of eggs and pancakes drifted all over the house, and soon enough Freddie and John wandered out of their room and towards the kitchen. He smiled at them, handing them a cup and letting them fill it for themselves while he went into their room and opened up the blinds.

Noise from his flatmates and the radio filled the house, and when Brian walked into the kitchen, Freddie was already taking care of the food while John set up the table. Brian smiled and served himself a cup of coffee.

“Oh, darling, Phoebe told me we needed to bring napkins.”

Brian frowned, John nodded, “Anything else?”

“Just the usual,” Freddie answered as he reached for the plates, “maybe a bag of peanuts or something for the guests and some cheap wine.”

“And the presents.”

“Of course.”

Brian sipped his drink and watched the exchange peacefully, relishing in the fact that he was probably going to have the house for himself for one night. Maybe he could watch one of those old Carl Sagan documentaries he had been trying to watch for months now that he wouldn’t get interrupted with demands for putting things that all of them could enjoy.

His happiness, however, was cut short by Freddie, “What are you going to take, Brian?”

His head snapped up, and he met Freddie’s eyes, “I was invited?”

Freddie rolled his eyes, “Brian, dear, this is the Christmas party, of course, you were invited.”

“Besides,” John said as he laid the plates on the table, filled with steaming food, “you are always invited to everything, Brian, it’s not our fault you don’t go.”

“I do go,” Brian defended himself, “just not when I know I’m going to get harassed by the lot of you.” He plopped himself on the chair and glared at Freddie and John, “‘Why are you always single, Brian?’ or ‘When are you going to get yourself a boyfriend?’”

Freddie just laughed, “Well, it’s not going to be any different this time.”

Brian rolled his eyes and took a bite out of his pancake. He was glaring at both of his friends and wondering if he could come up with a valid excuse for getting out of the situation.

Maybe he could pretend to be sick? No, that would only make Freddie and John stay behind and take care of him. Perhaps he could tell them that family thing came up? No, again, Freddie most definitely had his mother’s number saved on his phone, he would just call her and Brian would get busted. He was so busy trying to find a valid excuse that he missed Freddie’s comment.

John kicked him under the table, and Brian turned to glare at him, “What?”

“You spaced out again,” John said, “right in the middle of Freddie having the best idea ever.”

He turned to look at the older man, and saw that his brown eyes were glimmering with mischief, “What Freddie?”

“We could call Tim.”

Brian nearly spits out what he had been drinking, “That’s not happening.”

“Why not?” Freddie asked, “You like him, and he clearly likes you.”

Brian blushed furiously, “Freddie I am not having this conversation.”

He picked his plate up and started to walk towards his room, ready to eat inside it if the conversation were to continue. But Freddie was faster, and he rushed past Brian and jumped on his bed as if to say ‘there is no escape from this’.

“Freddie—“

“Brian I am sure he will be delighted to go with you to our Christmas party. There will be food, drinks, friends, mistletoe—“

“Freddie,” Brian said sternly, “no.”

“Why not?”

“No, Freddie.”

“You can’t keep harbouring this silly school girl crush and not act on your feelings, darling.”

“I said no.”

“Why not?” Freddie asked again. “Give me one reason why you can’t invite Tim to go with you other than ‘oh, I’m so shy I might die’”

He opened his mouth, ready to scold Freddie on his terrible imitation of Brian May, when John, dear old friend, piped in from the kitchen, “Leave him, Freddie.”

The taller man smiled triumphantly and nodded at the older man. Freddie scrunched up his nose in annoyance at John and started to stand from the bed. “He probably doesn’t want to invite Tim over because he is scared Tim will discover he is a virgin.”

Brian turned around so fast that the fork in his plate clattered to the floor. Freddie threw himself back in the bed, shrieking with laughter.

“John!”

“What?” The younger man asked innocently, “You haven’t had a boyfriend in five years, and you are too much of a prude to actually have a one night stand. You don’t expect us to believe you have actually had sex, do you?”

Brian didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was bright red with embarrassment. Partially because of the conversation they were having, partly because it was true. He knew it, they knew it, everybody who had ever had contact with Brian May, the nerdy astrophysics student, knew he was a virgin.

Most of the time it didn’t bother Brian. Most of the time he was more than glad to lay back and read a book instead of going out clubbing with his friends. But there was just something about the way Freddie and John were both laughing their asses off, making fun of poor Brian that made him snap.

Maybe it was the fact that the boyfriends were laughing at him rather than with him like all of those other times when they tease each other, or perhaps it is the fact that he has had a pretty shitty week and he cannot stand to have his friends making fun of him, but in the end he screams over the noise, “I am not a virgin, okay? And the reason I won't take Tim with me is because I have a boyfriend.”

There is a heavy silence in the flat, and then all hell breaks loose. Freddie is rushing up to him sitting him down on the couch and instantly harassing him about the revelation, and John picks up his iPhone and calls someone, probably Phoebe, to tell him that Brian was taking someone to their Christmas party.

Brian instantly regrets ever being born.

He buries his face in his hands as Freddie rambles on about what they expect this guy to be, asking so many questions that if he were to actually have a boyfriend, he wouldn’t have had the time to answer one question before the next one came. Oh, he was screwed, he was totally and utterly fucked.

“— please, dear, at least show me his Instagram.”

He looked up at Freddie, the boy was holding out his phone with the search bar open, and Brian felt like he wanted to cry, “Are you going to stalk him?”

Freddie looked aghast, “Well, of course, darling, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t?”

Brian saw the opportunity and took it, “Then no, Freddie.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Brian paused, trying to come up with a valid excuse, “I don’t want you to scare him off.”

“I would never!”

Brian rolled his eyes, “Yes you would, Freddie.”

He stood up, grabbing his forgotten breakfast and making way into his room. Freddie followed, urging Brian to give him something about this make believe boyfriend he had created.

“Please, just his first name.”

“No,” Brian said as he placed his breakfast on the small desk inside his room, “That is enough for you to find him.”

“I mean probably,” Freddie agreed, “but—“

John walked in at that moment, holding his phone triumphantly and smiling like a madman, “Phoebe says that your boyfriend is more than welcome.”

Brian’s heart fell to the pit of his stomach, and Freddie smiled, shutting his phone off, “Well, I guess I can wait until Friday to meet this boyfriend of yours."

"If he even exists, of course." John looks at him with a smile on his face, and Brian feels his pride open up his mouth and make him spit out the words he says next.

"Of course he exists, and you will meet him on Friday." He slams the door to his room, and after a few seconds, he presses his face to the cold wood, wondering why on earth did his mother teach him how to talk.

[whumpstation]

Whumptober Day 3 - Insomnia

So this is number 2 for the night. this one kind of got away from me, especially the beginning part, but oh well. XD Insomnia is one of my favorite things to write, probably because I suffer from it so often that it feels good to torture my favorite characters with it. Once again, only proofed once, so any mistakes are mine and will be fixed later. I hope you enjoy! Please let me know what you think! I love reading comments!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whumptober Day 3 - Insomnia

Series: Stargate Atlantis

Words: 2037

ETA: ~ 2 hours

      He couldn’t breathe! The water…it was rising to fast. He was going to drown! He thought he might’ve had a chance; that they would’ve gotten to him in time, but he had to admit to himself that he was indeed wrong this time. Help wasn’t coming, and Rodney McKay really hated being wrong. However, he hated dying even more than being wrong. It was pretty close between the two if he was honest with himself – dying and being wrong. It flipped back and forth from day to day, but right now dying was absolutely number one on his ‘I hate this’ list. What’s worse was that he was going to die alone. Alone, in the dark, underwater – cold, numb and scared out of his mind. He wished he could at least have someone to talk to before he drowned. It wouldn’t have saved him, but it would’ve given him some comfort to have a friendly voice to send him to oblivion.

    The water was almost to his nose, and he knew that any second it would submerge him completely. He couldn’t help but panic, breathing through his nose as fast and as deeply as he could. It was nonsensical, but he couldn’t help but take in the last precious seconds of air. Then the water engulfed him in its cold embrace and he went from panic to complete freak out in 1.2 seconds. He thrashed as he held his breath and tried desperately to find a way out of the jumper, even though he knew it was hopeless. He couldn’t make it to the surface with what little air was in his lungs, and even if he could, he would have no time to decompress on the way up, and he would die from the Benz before he even made it to the surface.

    It was probably only seconds, but it felt like an eternity later when he felt his lungs begin to burn and strain against his chest. Begging him for oxygen; begging him to breathe! He tried his best to convince them that that was a VERY bad idea, but they eventually overrode him, and he took an involuntary breath in – instantly choking on the water that now flooded his lungs. That started a vicious cycle of trying to expel the water, only for more to flood back in. It was torture in as true a sense of the word could mean, and Rodney soon felt himself slipping away.

    His final thoughts were of his colleagues, his team, his friends, and his sister. How he wished he could’ve said goodbye. Could’ve told them how much they actually meant to him. How much he enjoyed their companionship, friendship and love. An eerie kind of peace swelled through Rodney for a moment and he clung to it for as long as he could, before his body made one more ditch effort to try to survive. He thrashed once more in the thick water, but eventually everything just faded away.

    Rodney bolted up in his chair with a strangled gasp. He had to grip the table before him to keep from falling to the floor. His breathing was harsh and much too quick to be considered normal, and he would hate to have Carson see him right now. The genius shivered as he locked his eyes on the far wall of his lab in Atlantis and did the breathing exercises that helped him so well in times of stress.

    ‘It’s okay. You’re not underwater. You didn’t drown. John and Radek saved you. Stop being stupid! You’re fine.’ Rodney mentally berated himself as he slowly but surely got his breathing under control. This was getting ridiculous. It had been week since the jumper incident, and yet he was still having these nightmares every time he closed his eyes. He knew he should go talk to someone, tell someone, but he was figured he could just as well just work himself into a coma and accomplish almost the same thing. He was fairly certain the nightmares would stop – eventually – and then he could just get on with his life. However, the nightmares where getting worse every night. He was so tired from only being able to sleep a few minutes here and there that it was beginning to show. He couldn’t survive on catnaps; he knew it and he knew that his friends knew it.

    He was so caught up in his musings that he didn’t hear the door swish open and footsteps make their way over to his side. Only when he felt a hand on his shoulder did he notice that someone was there, and quite violently at that. Rodney gasped, and spun his head around to see how was there, only to be overtaken by a head rush of massive proportions and sway dangerously on his work chair. He was certain he would’ve fallen had the person with him not had such good grip on him. After the room stopped spinning, Rodney opened his eyes and came face to face with a very concerned Colonel John Sheppard.

    “McKay? Are you alright there, buddy?” John asked almost hesitantly, as he looked McKay up and down a few times. Man, he looked like crap. The bags under his eyes would be considered carryon at this point, and he looked like he hadn’t had a good meal in ages. John had been concerned before, what with McKay virtually disappearing after being released from the infirmary a few days ago. He tried to corner the man several times, but McKay always seemed to have a knack for avoiding him when he wanted to. John decided here and now though, by whatever means necessary, he would get his Rodney McKay back.

    Rodney stared blankly at John for a minute longer than he probably should have. His brain sluggish in trying to understand the question it was being asked, and why John was even there in the first place. The military man avoided the labs whenever he could. It made no sense why he would come down on his own, unless something was wrong. Oh! Something was wrong! Maybe the city was under attack, or sinking! He had to help! McKay tried to get to his feet, only to have them fold like partially set jello beneath him. Once again he found himself being supported by the Air Force Colonel, and set back on his seat.

    “Whoa there McKay! Take it easy. Where do you think you’re going in such a rush?” John asked as he looked critically into Rodney’s eyes.

    “The…the city. Have…to help,” Rodney croaked out as he shook his head to clear the fog that had suddenly settled there. He couldn’t lose it now, the city, the expedition needed him.

    John looked confused. “The city? The city’s fine, buddy, for once. Nothing needs fixing or saving at the moment. We’re all good – well, maybe not all of us. When was the last time you slept?”

    McKay was instantly on alert and he tried to sit up a little taller in his seat to appear more put together than he felt. “Just woke up. I’m fine.”

    John looked unconvinced to say the least. “Yeah, I mean actual sleep, not passed out at your laptop for 10 minutes.” John sighed and began to rub the back of McKay’s neck. “Look buddy, I’ll be honest. You look like shit, and we’re all worried about you. How about we take a trip to your quarters and see what we can do about that, yeah?” John said as he started to peel Rodney off his chair. He had to take most of the scientist’s weight, but he was prepared for such an outcome. The man was beyond exhausted, which was no surprise after almost a week’s worth of insomnia.

    As they began to make their way out of the lab, Rodney shook his head slightly and tried to stop his team leader from dragging his butt to bed. He knew he needed to sleep, but he just couldn’t. He couldn’t face those nightmares again. Not so soon after just having one. John shushed him though and kept them moving. “It’s alright, Rodney. I promise, it’s all okay. Just a few more feet….or meters…whatever you Canadians use.” John said at a light attempt at humor, but it seemed to go right over his genius’ head, which was disconcerting to say the least.

    When they finally made it to Rodney’s room, the scientist went from near ragdoll, to the immovable object. He somehow found an untapped reserve of strength neither knew he had, and he stood just inside the door, staring at his bed as if he was the nastiest, meanest wraith he had ever seen. He shook his head violently as he tried to back out of the room, but John was there to stop him and coax him forward. “Hey. Rodney! Easy buddy. I’m not going to leave, okay? I’m going to be right here the whole time, but you seriously need some sleep. Come on, one foot after the other,” Sheppard coaxed as he gently pushed Rodney towards the bed.

    As they neared the bed, Rodney suddenly turned to face John and dug his trembling hands into John’s shirt. He shook his head, and the broken, scared look on his face when he looked up at his leader broke John’s heart into a million tiny pieces. “Please John…please! I…I can’t do this. Please. Let me go back to my lab. I swear, I’m fine. Please, John…please…please…” Rodney begged and sobbed into John’s chest as the pent up fear and exhaustion hit him like a Mack truck.

    John’s resolved redoubled as he held the sobbing genius in his arms, rocking him back and forth as he slowly lowered them both onto the bed. They went from sitting to lying down over the next few minutes, and by the time John was tangled in the sobbing mess that was Rodney McKay; he had somehow managed to get both their boots and McKay’s jacket off.

    John continued to hold Rodney to his chest; allowing the man to cry to his heart’s content. John knew eventually Rodney would cry himself out, but he just hoped that it would be enough to allow the man more than a few fleeting moments of rest. He continued to rub Rodney’s back slowly, as he shushed him kindly, “I’m right here. You’re safe. Just go to sleep, buddy. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

    He wasn’t sure how long this went on, but John sighed in relief as he felt Rodney relax completely onto his chest; his hands no longer gripping him tightly and his breathing evening out. He dared a look and met utterly exhausted eyes staring up at him. “John…” the scientist whispered hoarsely, “Please…don’t go.”

    John couldn’t help himself. He wanted so much to comfort his friend that he didn’t think twice when he gently laid a small peck on the man’s forehead and held him a little bit tighter. “You got it buddy. Anything you want. I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe, and nothing; not wraith or water will hurt you as long as I’m around. Just close your eyes buddy. I’ll make sure the nightmares keep their distance. Just get some sleep.”

    McKay held his breath for a moment before exhaling deeply and completely going lax in John’s arms. He knew it was over. He couldn’t fight this anymore. A week of stress induced insomnia was coming to an end, and he had to say, he actually didn’t mind. As long as John was there, it seemed like an okay idea to maybe try this sleeping thing again. He yawned long and hard as his eyes closed and refused to open, no matter how much he tried. He could still feel John rubbing his back, and it was soothing. He wanted so much to tell John how much he appreciated his friendship and what he was doing for him now and on so many missions in the past, but he just felt so fuzzy all of a sudden, and before he was even aware of it, he was finally and truly asleep.

[imjustthemechanic]

The Stone Knight

Part 1/? - Two Statues Part 2/? - A Curious Interview Part 3/? - John Doe

Detective Carter asks Natasha if she can identify a man who was not as dead as he first appeared.  Turns out, she can.

Although she'd been asked to go to a police station, Natasha detoured back to the warehouse.  Yesterday it had been a drab, quiet, uninteresting storage building, the type people probably never looked at despite its size.  It was simply part of the landscape.  Today it was a smoking shell surrounded by crime scene tape and emergency vehicles, and crawling with evidence collectors in head-to-toe white plastic clean suits.

There was no sign of the statues, but then, they'd been at the back of the building, near the river.  Curious, Natasha pulled in to the lot of the building next door and headed around the back of the building to see if she could get a better vantage point.  As she drove around, a uniformed officer came to stop her.

“Sorry, Lass,” he said, leaning down to speak to her through the window. “We need you to leave.  This is a crime scene.”

“Is it?” Natasha asked innocently.  “I couldn't tell.  I'm Dr. Rushman from Dundee University.  DI Carter asked me to come.”

The officer's expression suggested he did not quite believe DI Carter had asked Natasha to meet her at the scene. “Let me ring her,” he said, pulling out his mobile phone.  “Stay in your vehicle, please.”

Nat did so, keeping the engine running and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as he made his call.  The officer began to pace while waiting for somebody to answer his call, and while his back was turned, Natasha leaned to the side a little to see the crime scene. Half a wall was still standing, blocking part of her view, but she couldn't see the statues.  It did look very much as if there were a medieval battleaxe lodged in part of the wall, but that had to be an illusion.

“Dr. Rushman?” said the officer.  “DI Carter wants you to meet her at 6 Burnett Road.  That's the police station.”

Nat smiled pleasantly at him.  “Thank you,” she said.  “I'll head right over.”

Detective Inspector Sharon Carter turned out to be a blonde woman not much older, though much taller, than Natasha herself.  She was waiting outside the station on Burnett Road, which was itself an area of mostly warehouses and delivery garages, with the very modern Police building looking quite out of place in the middle of it.

“Dr. Rushman?” she asked, as Nat got out of the car.

“In person,” Natasha replied.  “Inspector Carter?”

“That's me.”  The two women shook hands.  “Come on inside.  Can I get you a cup of tea?”

“What, no whiskey?” Natasha affected surprise.  “I thought you Scots drank that for breakfast.”

DI Carter laughed.  “Not for witnesses,” she said.  “We need you to remember the details.”

Somebody did bring two cups of tea and a plate of very dry shortbread cookies, and DI Carter got Natasha settled in a little interrogation room with bare walls and no furniture but two chairs and a card table.  She sat down across from Nat, and turned on a digital recorder.

“I guess you heard about what happened to Mr. Pierce,” she said.

“I looked it up after I got your message,” Natasha said.  “What did happen to him?  Or are you still trying to figure that out?”

“We're still trying to figure it out,” DI Carter confirmed.  “There's been no ransom demand or anything so we're still not sure of the motive.”

“So the blood at the scene isn't his?” asked Nat.  If they were waiting for a ransom demand, they must have reason to think the man was still alive, which probably precluded his losing a lot of blood.

“We don't know.  The fire destroyed a lot of the DNA,” Carter explained, while studying Natasha's face carefully.  “Did you know Mr. Pierce very well?”

“Oh, no, I only met him yesterday,” said Nat, smiling sheepishly.  The spy thinking had kicked in again, and she'd forgotten that she was supposed to be answering questions, not asking them.  Now she was making herself sound like a suspect by taking too much interest in the investigation.  “Sorry, I watch a lot of crime shows on TV.”

DI Carter looked a little dubious about that excuse, but she nodded. “So tell me about your meeting with him.”

“Well,” Natasha said, “he asked me to come and look at his statues.”  Her eyes were on Carter's face as she spoke, looking for a reaction.

She got a frown and a forehead furrowed in puzzlement.  “What statues?”

“The two statues he was keeping in that warehouse.”  Natasha's hunch had been correct, it seemed.  The statues were missing and the police had never seen them.

Carter leaned forward a little.  “Tell me about them,” she said.

Nat described her meeting with Pierce, the statues themselves and the conclusions she'd come to about them – then she went on to her weird little conversation with the man called Zola afterwards, and her inability to find his credentials.  Carter kept the recorder running, and made some physical notes as well.  It was clear that all of this was completely unfamiliar to her.

“You believe me, right?” Nat asked.  It had occurred to her that if Carter already thought she was a suspect, she might well think Nat was making the whole unlikely story up.

“I'm a detective – I don't believe anything, I just collect leads to follow,” Carter said.  “And I've heard stranger things.  Are you willing to work with a sketch artist to get us a picture of this Zola character?”

“Of course,” said Natasha.

“I'll get somebody in here,” Carter promised, then paused as her phone rang.  “One moment, please.”

Nat nodded, and sipped her tea while Carter went to a corner of the room to have some privacy as she put the phone to her ear.

“Carter,” she said.  Natasha could hear the person's voice on the other end, but not enough for her to pick out the words.  It must have been shocking, though, because Carter's eyes went wide.  “What?  Since when?”

The person on the other end replied.

“Hold that thought.”  Carter glanced back at Natasha.  “I've got somebody here who might be able to help us identify him.”  She covered the phone with her hand and turned around.  “You said Pierce had a couple of other men with him yesterday.  Bodyguards or something.”

“Security of some sort,” said Nat with a nod.  “Did you find one?”

“Maybe,” Carter said.  “Would you recognize any of them if you saw them again?”

“I think so,” Natasha said.  She was still in the habit of looking closely at people.  “I'm pretty good with faces.”

Carter nodded.  “Then we'll do the sketch of Zola later.  Right now I need you to come to Raigmore Hospital with me.  Did you hear about the John Doe they found in the river below the warehouse?”

“The paper mentioned him.”  Natasha was already getting up and reaching for her jacket.

“He's alive after all,” said Carter.  “We haven't been able to figure out who he is, but if you can tell us whether he worked for Pierce that might point us in the right direction.”

Nat did up her zipper.  “I'll follow you.”

Carter's unmarked police car led the way up Harbour Road, fortunately avoiding the old, twisting streets in the city centre to arrive in only a few minutes.  The hospital was another large, modern building that really didn't seem to belong in the same city as Inverness' red sandstone castle and the tudor-style stone and plaster buildings that looked onto the river.  Carter showed a badge to the woman at the front desk, and she paged Dr. Wilson.

Dr. Wilson was a tall black man with his hair cut very short and a tidy goatee.  He was wearing a red and white shirt under his lab coat, and carrying a clipboard.

“Good to see you again, Inspector Carter,” he said.

“Thanks, Dr. Wilson,” Carter replied.  “This is our witness, Dr. Natalie Rushman from Dundee.”

“John Doe is in the ICU,” Dr. Wilson said.  “I'll show you the way.”

As he led them down the hospital's white hallways, Dr. Carter was full of questions.  “What happened?” she asked.  “We found him in the water, he had no pulse, he'd been shot at least twice...”

“Three times,” said Dr. Wilson.  “Twice in the gut, once in the neck. And heavy sharp force trauma to the face, breaking six bones in the skull and exposing the brain.  The ambulance crew took him straight to the morgue.”

“When did you realize he was alive?” Carter asked.

“They were about to start the autopsy when he suddenly gasped,” Wilson explained.  “Probably scared poor Dr. Murray out of five years of her life.  We rushed him into surgery, where we took the bullets out and stapled up his skull, and now he's resting in the ICU.  We're pretty sure he's the luckiest guy alive right now.”

The third bed down in the ICU held a man hooked up to various wires and tubes, with a nurse making notes as she checked the readouts on the machines monitoring his breathing and heart rate.  He'd had sandy blond hair and a slightly darker beard, but both had been partially shaved in order to stitch up the side of his face, where there was an ugly, deep cut that ran from just above the ear diagonally to the corner of the mouth.  His neck was bandaged and he was upsettingly pale, but his arms were muscular and it was possible to see through his hospital gown that the rest of his upper body matched.

His chest was rising and falling gently as he breathed.  The man was very much alive, which was quite impressive considering he'd been shot, hit in the face, and drowned.  There was something else odd, too... the injury to his face didn't look like it had been made only a few hours earlier.  Wounds and how they healed had been an important part of the Red Room's cirriculum.  This man looked like his injuries were three or four days old, and starting to knit.

Carter seemed to have noticed the same thing.  “How long ago was that?” she asked.

“I called you as soon as he was out of surgery,” said Dr. Wilson.

“So... less than an hour ago?”  Carter was shocked.  So, for that matter, was Natasha.

“I've never seen anything like it,” Wilson agreed.  “I saw guys recover from some pretty major injuries in Afghanistan, but this guy had brain trauma that should have killed him, never mind the bullet wounds.  All I can say is he must have a hell of a constitution.” He shook his head.

Natasha had seen recoveries like it, but even now she wasn't about to start talking about Soviet human enhancement projects.  Something like that must have been done to this man, though, because otherwise there was no way he could have survived.  If she didn't believe he was some kind of super-soldier, she was going to have to believe he was a magical medieval warrior, and that was simply unacceptable.

“Dr. Rushman.”  Carter turned to Natasha.  “Do you recognize him?”

Nat honestly wasn't sure how to answer that.  “What was he wearing when you found him?”  There had to be a rational explanation.  Nat had seen some pretty strange things, in both the Red Room and at Dundee University, but this was a new one.

“Some kind of costume,” Carter replied.  “Chain mail and little leather slippers.  The chaim mail was one of the reasons we immediately figured he was dead – even if he'd survived his physical injuries, he couldn't swim with all that metal on him.”

“And a shield with a star on it?” asked Natasha.

“No... no shield,” said Carter.

It was probably on the bottom of the River Ness, Nat thought.  She was sure of what she was seeing – she had, as she'd mentioned, always been good with faces, and the features on the two statues had been very distinct.  She just didn't know what it all meant.

“Who is he?” Carter asked.

“I don't know,” said Nat, “but apparently he's supposed to be Sir Stephen of Rogsey.”  She turned to Carter.  “The two statues I told you about were of Sir Stephen of Rogsey and his nemesis, Count John the Red Death, who are supposed to have died in 1066, somewhere up in the Braemore area.  This guy must have been the model for Sir Stephen, which would mean the two statues are modern fakes, never mind eighteenth century... but what the hell was he doing there, in costume, when the statues were already finished?” Honestly, that made even less sense than Nat's absurd first impression that he was a sculpture brought to life.  “I have no idea what's going on.”

And then the man in the bed opened his eyes.

[wickianaa]

i’m finally gonna do it and today we’re talking fighting styles for john. these movies are Obviously known for the amazing action and the amount of work keanu put into being able to do a lot of the action, so i’m gonna talk about as many fighting styles that can be identified and even why john uses them and for what. for visual examples of these, feel free to head to this post as well.

*DISCLAIMER : i am not and do not claim to be an expert in any of these fighting styles, nor have i practiced any of them personally. i’ve simply done my research, watched a lot of training videos and studied moves, as well as the bonus features of the wick films which often talk about the fighting styles in these movies.

Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu : we’re going to start with this since this is one of the fighting styles that is most utilized since it’s one of the primary styles keanu was trained in for these movies. this is obviously the brazilian variant of the japanese martial art jujutsu / jiu-jitsu (we know keanu was trained specifically in BJJ because he was taught by the machado brothers, who are a family of BJJ practitioners). the biggest foundation of BJJ is the concept that a smaller and/or weaker fighter can defend themselves from and defeat someone who is bigger, stronger, or heavier. this is kind of the case for john. he is on the taller side, at 6′1″, but he’s not incredibly big, honestly. he has a decent amount of defined muscle, but it’s not crazy to say that most of the guys we see him fight are bigger, stronger, and heavier than he is. which is why BJJ works so well for him. as we see, this fighting style primarily works through gaining leverage in a fight and taking the fight itself to the ground through grappling, where the fighter can execute joint locks and choke-holds on their opponent. taking the fight to the ground and properly executing BJJ techniques can and will allow a smaller fighter to defeat bigger or stronger opponents. 

Judo : there are many similarities to BJJ as these fighting styles are both grappling focused, but judo has a few extra techniques that set it apart from BJJ. these are their throwing techniques and striking techniques, with the grappling techniques it partially shares with BJJ. we see john throw a lot of his opponents, whether over his shoulder or with his hip (standing technique), or occasionally even drop himself to the ground in order to pull his opponent down (sacrifice technique). these are all primarily judo-based and they’re pretty popular when it comes to grappling-style fighting in hollywood movies. the striking techniques share a lot with other martial arts and we see a good amount of that in the opening sequence of chapter 2 since he opts not to use his gun during that time (up until he shoots that one guy in the knees). the grappling techniques are, as i said, very similar to BJJ, in that they are: holding and pinning, strangulation, and joint locks.

Sambo : this is a russian martial art that takes many of its techniques from a lot of eastern martial arts, including jiu-jitsu and judo (the founders of sambo studied judo in japan). sambo is actually the fighting style that we see the boys in the tarkovsky theater practicing in chapter 3, so, considering what we know about john, he would have been taught and be proficient in sambo. this is also the fighting style that viggo utilizes in his fight with john at the end of the first film and john matches him with sambo techniques, possibly just to make the fight fair lol. sambo’s focus is a little more wide since it’s inspired by and modeled after many different types of martial arts, but still very much grappling-based. in sport sambo, it very much resembles catch wrestling, but combat sambo was made specifically for the military so it uses striking and grappling, also allowing punches, kicks, elbows, knees, laid kicks, headbutts, and groin strikes.

Aikido : yet another grappling martial art, aikido has some similarities to judo and BJJ. chad stahelski confirmed that some aikido techniques were incorporated into keanu’s training and ultimately john’s fighting style, specifically in chapter 2. this japanese martial art uses throwing techniques and joint manipulations to injure and subdue. in aikido specifically, it’s a matter of redirecting an opponent’s attack momentum to throw them off. we see john execute a couple of aikido-style throws in the rome sequence of chapter 2.

Hapkido : following somewhat of a pattern, this is one more combat style that deals with ground fighting, although not as much grappling as judo and BJJ. hapkido and aikido share the same japanese origins and some similar techniques but they have become distinct and different with time (aikido is meant to be purely defensive while hapkido is usually considered more offensive and more violent). hapkido is a korean martial art that’s a form of self-defense and deals with strikes, joint-locks, and throws. furthermore, hapkido has a large emphasis in all of this while using techniques with weapons, like knives, swords, staffs, and rope/belt (which is the techniques john uses). these rope techniques are designed to block incoming attacks and then trap the attacker’s limb and use that leverage against them in some way, usually through throwing them, knocking them down, or disarming them. specifically, we see john use pho bak (rope) hapkido techniques in the hotel fight with ms. perkins when john uses his sling as a defensive weapon ; and in the glass house when john removes his belt and uses that as a weapon. as a note : hapkido has not been confirmed in any way as being a fighting style of john’s ; i just simply did a ton of research into martial arts that use these kinds of techniques and hapkido was the one i stumbled upon. and with the confirmed inclusion of aikido, it doesn’t feel too insane that hapkido might have been a thought-point as well by fight coordinators and trainers.

Boxing : i do want to state that the filmmakers specifically chose not to make john’s fighting style boxing because boxing is notoriously hard to fake on film. it’s way harder to fake a punch to the face than it is to throw a stunt guy to the ground, without an edit. which is why they decided to shake things up. but like i said with BJJ, a lot of his opponents are bigger than him, so boxing as a primary fighting style wouldn’t work well for john anyway. but he still knows how to throw a solid punch. there are a couple of solo punches (one in the bath house at the red circle and one in the fight with ms. perkins) and then a few more in john’s fight with viggo, but boxing techniques aren’t things john often uses, except simple boxing blocking which is the motion of raising the arms towards the head and ears to block incoming attacks. western boxing and muay thai blocks are incredibly similar to each other, but i am inclined to list boxing here rather than muay thai (which is another style of boxing), because, based on my non-expert opinion and observations, john doesn’t show much muay thai technique at all. that’s not to say he doesn’t know some muay thai, he just isn’t proficient enough in it for it to be considered a combat style for him.

Shinobi-Iri : this is stealth and infiltration techniques, plain and simple. we see it a little bit at the start of chapter 2, when he very quietly enters the warehouse where his car is being kept. he sneaks up on a number of guards and incapacitates them. we see this even more in chapter 3 in the glass house sequence with his ability to hide from zero and even disappear at a moment’s notice. we also see it once in grand central station in chapter 3 when he disappears right before zero’s eyes.

Close Quarters Combat : it’s not an uncommon idea that john has military history. it’s a headcanon of many, many fans and, when he was making the first movie, keanu himself thought of john as having a military background. that is something i also attribute to my portrayal of john, specifically with him being a marine. so john having been a marine for some time, he would absolutely be knowledgeable of and have proficiency in close quarters combat. CQC is all about tactical organization in confined spaces with a small unit of people, usually engaging with opponents hand-to-hand and with short-range firearms. we see john do a lot of this, although in a solo scenario. this is what the red circle sequence is, the shootout in rome as well, and the hall of mirrors in chapter 2. it’s all john in close quarters with his attackers, with short-range weapons (ranging from sidearms, to shotguns, to the occasional assault rifle). 

Gun-Fu : yes, last but not least, i’m throwing gun-fu in here. obviously it’s not a real martial art, but it’s pretty relevant for john and how he fights. a lot of the fighting styles listed above don’t incorporate many weapons, and especially not large weapons or firearms. they are body-based. many of them have to do with ultimately knocking the opponent out. what gun-fu is for john and in these movies is the substitution of a gun in place of the completion of many holds and locks to knock an opponent out. there are many times where john executes techniques that would leave him able to knock his opponent out but instead shoots them in the head to finish them off.

that’s about all i have, frankly. i really love the fighting styles and choreography that they’ve managed to pull off in these movies. it’s all so exciting and gorgeous and impressive what the actors and the amazing stuntmen and women are able to pull off.

[buildercar]

New Post has been published on http://www.buildercar.com/first-drive-2017-mini-countryman/

First Drive: 2017 Mini Countryman

PORTLAND, Oregon — “Geez, this road is narrow,” I said to my co-driver Jeff as I put the Countryman’s left tires over the double yellow line. And then, with a glance in his direction: “Did I just say that? In a Mini?”

Though it wasn’t obvious from Jeff’s reply (“Straight! Drive straight! Don’t look at me, look at the damn road!”), I knew he agreed with what I was saying, just as I knew that his fearful cringe was a nonverbal acknowledgement that we’re driving the largest Mini ever and had nothing to do with his side of the car edging closer and closer to a solid concrete wall.

How big is the new 2017 Mini Countryman? Compared to its predecessor, it’s 8.1 inches longer (2.9” of that in the wheelbase) and almost an inch and a half wider. When you think about it, it makes sense that Mini would grow the Countryman: The first-gen version was introduced in 2011, before subcompact crossovers were a thing. Today, the market is crowded with players like the Audi Q3, Honda CR-V, and Jeep Renegade, and the new Countryman casts a similar-sized shadow.

But, as I often told the people I dated, during my college days, size does not matter. What matters about this Mini — or any Mini, for that matter — is the way it drives. And the way it drives is pretty darn good, provided you pick the right engine.

The all-new Countryman is built on the same modular architecture as other Mini models and uses the same engines — specifically the 134-hp 1.5-liter turbo-three and the 189-hp 2.0-liter turbo-four. (A 228-hp John Cooper Works is in the works, as is a plug-in hybrid.) I’m partial to three-bangers — call it a quirk; that’d make you more charitable than most — and I quite like Mini’s in the hardtop Cooper. But the Countryman outweighs the little two-door by as much as half a ton and that puts a hurt on the engine’s 162 lb-ft of torque. If you’re a stick-shift aficionado who likes working the gears, there’s some fun to be had, especially if you enjoy the three-banger’s leisurely growl, but I often found myself with my foot to the floor waiting for a burst of high-RPM acceleration that never came.

If you go for a Countryman All4, you receive an eight-speed automatic that does a good job delivering power, but front-drive variants have to make do with a six-speed. For most buyers the best bet will be the four-cylinder-powered Countryman S. It accelerates like a Mini ought to in both manual and automatic guise, though, for reasons no one from Mini was able to adequately explain, the front-drive variant is automatic-only. EPA fuel economy estimates are similar for the two engines and I saw MPG in the high 20s from both.

Chassis behavior is what we want (and expect) from a Mini. The Countryman responds to steering commands like it has attention deficit disorder, eager to chase after whatever has distracted it, and the body maintains its composure no matter how quickly it’s being dragged in a new direction. The ride is very firm, though it does a decent job of filtering out all but the most severe impacts. It’s a big improvement over the outgoing Countryman, even if the new car isn’t quite as good at squeezing into narrow places.

To be fair to Mini, they’ve put the extra size to good use. Back-benchers benefit the most: There’s a surprising amount of legroom in the second row, even when the front seats are adjusted for taller drivers, and the standard-fit panoramic sunroof makes the cabin feel open and airy. Too bad about the seatbacks, though, which are firm and thinly padded — a reminder that this supposedly English Mini was designed by Germans.

Up front, the Countryman is a replay of Mini’s greatest hits, with a colorful center-mounted infotainment system (now with a new interface and touchscreen functionality to supplement the dial controller, but still no Apple CarPlay or Android Auto), a gauge pod that moves with the adjustable steering column, and those funky toggle-style switches. Material quality is excellent and the Countryman frames the driver’s view of the world in a short, rectangular windshield, just as a proper Mini ought to do.

Trunk space is a little shy at 17.6 cubic feet, but the boot is usefully shaped and free of obstructions. Mini says their customers value versatility, which the Countryman delivers with standard-fit 40/20/40 split-fold rear seatbacks, extra storage space under the trunk floor, and LATCH anchor points that are clearly marked and easy to use.

Mini has priced the new Countryman mid-way between blue-collar entrants like the HR-V and Renegade and luxury players like the Q3 and Mercedes-Benz GLA. The entry-level Countryman lists for $26,950 (including destination), while the Countryman S All4 has a sticker price of $31,950. Those prices are before options, and this being a Mini, there are more extra-cost bits and bobs than the human mind can safely contemplate. Check too many boxes and you can easily get the Countryman well over $42,000. That’s a lot for a small crossover; for comparison, it takes a concerted effort to get the sticker price of a Mazda CX-5 too far above $30,000.

Mini expects the Countryman to appeal to urban and suburban dwellers who need the space of an SUV but don’t want to fuss about where to park it. That’s pretty much what the Countryman delivers — but then again, so does every single one of its competitors in this increasingly crowded segment. With the Mini no longer any more mini than its rivals — a point I had time to contemplate when the Countryman was unable to fit through what should have been a Mini-sized gap between a pickup and the curb, forcing me to wait to make my right turn like a commoner — all that’s left to differentiate the Countryman is style and price. We’ll have to see if buyers think the Countryman offers enough of the former to justify the latter.

2017 Mini Cooper Countryman Specifications

ON SALE Now PRICE $26,950 ENGINE 1.5L turbocharged DOHC 12-valve I-3/134 hp @ 4,400 rpm, 162 lb-ft @ 1,250 rpm

2.0L turbocharged DOHC 16-valve I-4/189 hp @ 5,000 rpm, 207 lb-ft @ 1,250 rpm

TRANSMISSION 6-speed manual, 6-speed automatic, 8-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD/AWD SUV EPA MILEAGE 21-24/31-33 mpg (city/hwy) L x W x H 169.8 x 71.7 x 61.3 in WHEELBASE 105.1 in WEIGHT 3,300-3,671 lb 0-60 MPH 6.8-9.5 sec TOP SPEED 122-137 mph

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