#maybe the next guy that asks me out won’t be drunk in our local pub

[imbellarosa]

.

[sdmnluvs]

Home Town Glory- Minishaw

Disclaimer!! I know that Simon is in a very happy relationship with Talia! It’s just for entertainment purposes and to let me practice my writing. This is also posted on my Wattpad!

28 years old and he misses home more than ever. That's why he's walking the streets of Hemel Hempstead at quarter past 11 on a Friday night.

It wasn't his plan when he woke up this morning. But he had fucked up, told Harry he loved him and when Harry just stared at him he fled the flat in record worthy time.

Got back to his own flat with ignoring Harry's missed calls and texts. Grabs a bag and packs a weekends worth of clothes as Jj enters his room confused.

"You alright there Simon?" He asks dumbly as the taller runs to the bathroom to grab his toothbrush. "I-I fucked up, going home for the weekend!" He says, pulls out his phone to call an Uber. He doesn't care if it's expensive, would spend every dime in his bank account if it meant he didn't have to look at the pity his friends would throw him when they found out what he had done.

"Did something happen with Harry? Did you guys break up?" Jj asks shock evident in his voice. Everyone was sure that they were a stable couple. Maybe looks really can be deceiving.

"I need to clear my head for a while Jide, if Harry comes please don't tell him where I am," Simon says before grabbing his bag and leaving Jj standing in bedroom. Heard the door close and the younger doesn't know what to do.

But he listens to what Simon said. When Harry shows up half an hour later with tears in his eyes it takes all of his might to say that he doesn't know where Simon is. Says me might have gone to visit Josh.

It's evil really, Jj decides when Harry leaves his sitting room with a look of determination on his face. He's sending the poor boy on a wild goose chase for what? Jj doesn't even know what happened between the both of them. For all he knows Simon could be in the wrong here. He had said that he fucked up.....

But by the time he comes to the decision that he should ask Harry what happened the brunet is long gone and he curses to himself. Feels even worse when he realizes that Josh will probably send Harry to Tobi's to check, then Tobi will send him to Randys and Randy will send him back to the flat.

Simon calls him 2 hours later. He's sat in his old room and trying not to cry. "So what happened?" Jj never did have the best patience, Simons surprised he's waited this long.

"I overreacted I guess," the blond sighs. "I told Harry that I loved him. He just stared at me for a straight minute. I couldn't deal with it Jide so I ran. I ran as fast and as far away as I could. Sure I only made it about 27 miles away from home but I couldn't deal with the pity when I told you. I just thought, it's been a year and I've loved him for long. But I guess that it was too soon".

Simon explains it all and Jj listens. Doesn't interrupt just let's Simon talk and it feels nice. Once he's finished talking Jj comforts him. Tells him to go for a walk even though it's 8pm and the sun is going to set soon. Also tells him that Harry definitely loves him back. "He was probably shocked Simon. Give him time. Just go relax, hey go to that park you used to drag me to every Sunday!".

And Simon follows his advice. Tells his mum that he's going to pub to see a few of his old friends. He doesn't need her worrying about him anymore than she already is. So he heads out. Goes for a walk around the town.

Meanwhile Jj sighs when he hears the door knock again. Knows that it's either Josh about to give out to him for sending Harry round his when he knew exactly where the blond was because Tobi had already called him and gave out to him. Or it's Harry back, probably just as deflated as he was this morning.

Opens the door and he's not shocked to see Harry stood in front of him. Bit more shocked that Ethan is stood with him. Arm wrapped around the youngers shoulder. He's smiling sadly and Harry's a puddle of tears.

Jj opens the door wider and rushes both of them in. They all sit down on the couch and Harry won't let go of Ethan's arm as he re-tells the story of his day.

"I-I was shocked Jide, I didn't expect him to say it. I called him back, must've called his name 20 times but it was too late. He was gone. Cal wouldn't let me go until I had told him that happened. I never got the chance to tell him that I love him too. I got to yours as fast as I could. Then you told me to go to Josh and he wasn't there.

Freya convinced me to have a cup of tea and some breakfast. I didn't want to tell them why I was there but you know what Freya's like. They gave me some comforting words and then Josh said that he might be at Tobi's. So I went to Tobi's but he wasn't there. I stayed for a while, talked to Tobi to calm down.

Our last resort was that he was at Randys. But he wasn't. Randy made me eat again, told me that he'd probably of gone back to the flat by now. But that I should maybe leave him until tomorrow. I agreed and was heading home but I couldn't face it. The thought that I'd lost Simon forever. Like our relationship had started and ended in my flat.

Ethan was the closest person to me at that stage. Told the taxi driver to turn around...," he trails off tears falling faster and harder. Ethan throws a comforting arm around him and finishes the story for the younger.

"I tried to calm him down but it was no use. That's when I realized that maybe big man knowledge, strength, Integrity would know where Simon is by now!" Ethan says his eyes cold and narrow when he says Integrity and Jj knows that he's in for it.

He loves Simon he really does, he's his best friend but Harry's sat in their living room crying an actual river and Ethan's glaring at him as much as to say "Tell him the truth or else".

"He's away home for the weekend. I'm sorry Harry, I promised him I wouldn't tell you," but Harry isn't even mad. He lets go of Ethan for the first time since he entered the flat and hugs Jj as tightly as he can.

"Jide please, we have to go. I'll do anything, I'll, I'll-"

Jj stops him, the least he can do is drive the three of them to Hertfordshire as an apology to Harry. Even though it's 10pm and he has a meeting at 8am tomorrow. The things he does for his friends.

So here Simon is. Quarter past 11 on a Friday night. He had actually popped into the local pub. Met a few of his old friends and downed 2 pints. Laughed and laughed and laughed as they re-told childhood stories. Listens as they catch him up on everything he had missed the past 8 years not living at home.

Sure his mum had kept him up to date and he had come home every so often but he'd never found the time to catch up with old friends. Looks around the room and wonders if he had never left what would life be like?

Would he be sat here with the same group of friends every Friday night making memories to last a lifetime. Would Jide be KSI or would he be sat here right next to him. Would he of met a nice girl from the town and be married already. Would he of made memories?

Thinks and remembers that he's made memories to last a lifetime. He's met people, he's met his friends, he's met Harry. The love of his life and suddenly it's all too much. The walls of the pub are closing in on him. He thanks them for the laughs and memories but he's gotta go. Promises them that he'll come home again, with Jj this time and they'll make even more memories.

He looks back and smiles seeing them all doubled over in laughter over something one of them had said. He wants to say that he escaped but there was never really anything to escape. Everyone that stayed is happy. They're all content with their lives. And so is he. He took a different route that's all.

Left the pub and heads off in the direction of the park Jj had mentioned. He had wanted to leave it for last. Let's his mind wander as he wanders around the streets.

Passes by a group of teenagers shrieking in laughter, empty bottle of vodka in their hands and he has to smile. Because that used to be him, running through the same streets when he was younger. Drunk, young and free.

He's so engrossed that he almost walks into a woman. She asks if he's lost because she's never seen him around here. He shakes his head, tells her that he's not lost, just wandering around home. She leaves him be and he keeps going.

Arrives at the park and heads straight to the field. Lies down and watches the stars. Let's the day wash over him and he can't help but smile as he remembers the first time he ever went star gazing was with Harry.

Jj knocks on the door. Simons mum opens the door and she's so happy to see Jj. Welcomes him inside but Jj asks if Simons around. She can hear the desperation in his voice and tells him that he went down to the pub to met a few of the lads.

So the 3 of them leave. They enter and nobody bats and eyelid at them. Jj instantly spots the group of people that Simon should be with, it's just, he's nowhere to be seen. Swears under his breath as he approaches the table.

Taps one of the boys on the shoulder and he turns grinning. "When we told Simon to hurry back with you we didn't mean this soon!" The man laughs and stands up to hug Jj.

He laughs weakly "it's really nice to see you James, but do you have any idea where Simon is?". The man now known as James to Harry and Ethan shakes his head. Explains how he left 20 minutes ago, adds that he looked like he had been doing a lot of thinking. Jj thanks him and they leave,

"So we're back to square 1?" Ethan asks as Harry lets a sob rip from his mouth. "This is all my fault, I shouldn't of been such a prick today," he cries as Ethan hugs him.

"It's ok Bog, let's just head back to his, he'll be home-," Jj starts but then stops. He has a shit eating grin on his face. "I know where he is!".

They all pile into Jj's car once again and 5 minutes later they're pulling up to a park. "Simon used to drag me here every Sunday, I told him to visit here when I was talking to him earlier as a joke," Jj explains as they exit the car and head to the field.

And that's where they spot him. Lying in the grass eyes closed and mouth turned upwards in a smile. Harry walks closer as Ethan and Jj hang back.

"Si?" Harry asks shyly and the body shoots up. Looks around and all air leaves his body because Harry is inching closer to him with a nervous smile on his face. Simon can't take it, not whilst he's at home, in his safe place.

"Harry, please not-," but Harry cuts him off. "Simon please, just listen to me I beg. You don't understand what I've done to get here!". So Simon stays quiet.

"Si I was shocked when you told me that you loved me. Ever since I met you I was convinced that I'd never be enough for you. I was just a 17 year old kid with insecurities that would've drowned me when I first met you. But you, as cringy as it sounds you taught me how to love myself. I was finally in the shallow end when I moved in with Cal and Cal and I started drinking a lot, when the drugs started.

But you were there. Every single time I relapsed you where there. On bad nights that I was tempted you made me watch a shitty movie with you. And even though I hate movies I watched them with you. You supported me when I came out. And then you kissed me when we where in Vegas for Jides fight. A week later we had our first date in London and you weren't embarrassed of me. You held my hand as we walked home and you asked me to be your boyfriend and I said yes. Because I loved you. You kept me afloat, Simon I have loved you since I was 18, too young to know what love is as mum always said. But I loved you. And I still do.

And I'm sorry that I left you standing there waiting for an answer today. I just couldn't wrap my head around the fact that you loved me, you love me just as much as I love you! And I would've been able to tell you all of this this morning but Cal held me back and then Jide sent me on a goose chase like a whole twat.

So I'm sorry Si, I love you. A lot more than the moon and stars combined,". And Simons stood staring at him, tears falling down his face. Because holy fucking shit. Harry loved him as much as he loved Harry. Didn't even think as he tackled him into a hug. Kissed him deeply and had every unspoken word added to it.

And Harry seemed to just know because when they pulled away he hugged him tighter. They turn to their 2 cheering friends before Simon leans down to kiss him again.

Because he had Harry. Harry was his, the love of his life. "I even love you enough for the first time I tell you to be in Hertfordshire," Harry giggles and Simon grins at him. "Hometown glory I guess,". And then Simon kisses him again

[bad-bitch-beauchamp]

Songs About Me - Chapter Two

Chapter two is up!!! I started writing this all last night, and didn’t want to leave that chapter handing! I have the outline for this story all done and I’m actually pretty psyched about how it’s lining up. I want to take a minute to thank you all for all the kinds words and support yesterday, you’re the best and know how to make a girl feel welcome! Without further ado... Chapter two!

Read on AO3

Later that night, Beacon Hill, Boston, 21st Amendment Pub

“Claire! Over here!” Geillis was sitting at a high top table and stood up on the crossbar of the barstool to wave her over. As she stood up tall with an arm waving over her head, Claire noticed the two men sitting with her glance at her exposed midriff. One oggled her openly, while one looked appreciatively, and smiled down into his beer glass as he took a long drink. This must be Angus and Rupert, then. Claire smiled and wound through the crowd to the table. 

“Awright lads, this is my best girl Claire!” Geillis had clearly been here before her eight o’clock sharp deadline, judging by the way her Scots accent had thickened up. 

“Nice to meet you boys! Let me grab a drink and we can get to know each other!” Claire wove her way to the bar, ordered a few fingers of Laphroig whisky, and made her way back to the table. The 21st Amendment was the perfect watering hole for locals looking to enjoy a few bar snacks, and a lot of drinks. It had started to become a staple for their end-of-week blow offs between her and Geillis after a long week at the greenhouse. When he wasn’t stuck at the hospital, Joe often came out to join them, and tonight he had arrived in her absence and took her under his shoulder.

“I need to see you more than once a week! And now you’ve made it so I can only see you if I come to a karaoke bar?! What kind of joke is this, LJ?” 

“Blame our favorite redhead for this ingenious evening!” Claire jerked her head in Geillis direction. They laughed and hugged each other tight, and began to settle in for the evening. 

Aided by more than a few drinks, the four soon became fast friends. Claire came back from the bar for the third time to see Joe clearly entranced by the three Scots and their innate ability to make any story the best you’ve ever heard. 

“So there I am in bed, Chrissie on my left and Nettie, the butcher’s daughter, on the right. They get jealous of each other, start arguin’ about who I’m gonna swive first. Can ye believe it?” Rupert laughed through his oncoming hiccups; whether they was the result of the raucous laughter or the many pints of ale was anyone’s guess. 

“And then what happened, man?!” Joe leaned forward over the table toward Angus, and Angus leaned in towards Joe, slapping his hands on the table. Rupert opened his mouth to respond but before he could get out a single word, Claire quipped in. 

“I believe your left hand gets jealous of your right. That’s about all I believe!” 

For as loud as the pub had become, the little table surrounded with friends fell into an uncertain silence. Claire wondered if she could fit her other foot in her mouth, in addition to the one that was already there. Then… uproarious laughter. 

“I’ve… I’ve never heard a woman make a joke like that before!” Ruper was cackling now. “Christ, woman! Yer somethin’ else!” Angus was doubled over clutching his side, Joe choked on his drink, and Geillis was practically dissolving into laughter. Another voice, a different voice, came floating to her ear from behind on a warm whisper. 

“Yer a witty one, aye?” 

Claire spun around in her barstool, which was admittedly a mistake. Maybe one too many whiskeys, Beauchamp. She started to slide off the side backless chair when two hands steadied her by the waist. Once she -- and the room -- stopped spinning and came into focus, all she could see was ocean blue eyes. If her eyes were the color of her favorite burning whisky, his were the color of a cooling chaser. 

“Ye alright, lass?” The stranger smirked. She realized she was still holding on to his shoulders, and still staring into his eyes. She felt the muscles under his white v-neck shirt. His very tight shirt, she amended. His hair sparkled with all the same colors as the dark red trees lining the old brick streets outside -- shades of russet and gold, dark auburn and cinnabar. High cheekbones gave way to slanted eyes above and a jawline to cut her glass tumbler below.  Pull yourself together. He’s just a man, and one you don’t even know! 

“Oh, yeah, thanks, I’m fine, thank you,” she stammered as she climbed back on her chair, his hands never wavering from her hips. Why did she sound so formal? “I mean, I’m great!” She flashed him a big smile and then a thumbs-up. What the fuck is your problem?! Maybe find a middle ground? She sighed on a giggle as her eyes fell to the floor and looked up at him with crinkling eyes. “I’m -- ugh. Hi there, I’m Claire.” His smirk grew, his eyebrow rose. “Thanks for making sure I didn’t die just then,” she added hastily. He was watching her when she dared to glance up from under her lashes. 

The stranger waited until she was settled back on the barstool and went to extend his hand for a handshake, only to find his hands were otherwise occupied. He left them where they were, and settled in a little deeper. 

“Och, it’d be a right shame to lose ye to a swivelin’ stool and a dirty pub floor.” The smirk turned into an honest smile. “I’m James. Ye can call me Jamie, if ye like.” He glanced at his hands, one still on her hip and the other traveling up to her waist. Claire felt his thumb stroke her sides and glanced down to watch him unravel her with his touch. Who the hell was this guy? Ordinarily, she’d be offended by some guy holding onto her in a bar, but right now, she found herself hoping this one didn’t let go. She was still watching him trace his small circle on her waist when the hand on her hip reluctantly pulled away, while the one on her waist didn’t move at all. She glanced up to see a pink bloom appear in the tips of his ears and the triangle of chest visible through the dip in his shirt. It was her turn to smirk.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Sassenach. Got a wee bit distracted.” He shoved his free hand in the pockets of his worn jeans. 

“Sassenach--?” Suddenly she was cut off, by a loud voice behind them. 

“Jamie! Ye made it!” Jamie’s large hand pulled away from Claire’s side with a jolt and the absence made her shiver. Rupert and Angus were already making the introductions to their small table. The hellos and drink orders began and conversation between the group began again. Her head was dizzy, but not from the alcohol. She glanced up to see him eyeing her from over the top of his rocks glass, and her stomach flipped. Pull yourself together. Concentrating on the situation, she gathered that Jamie worked with Angus and Rupert at a small shop in the area, but missed the kind of work they did. 

With the addition of Jamie at their table, Geillis suggested they move to one of the booths lining the bar walls. The men blazed a trail forward through the crowd to secure seats, and Claire held Geillis back by the elbow. 

“I thought you said you only invited Rupert and Angus out tonight?” “I did! They asked if they could invite the third member o’ their party, and who am I to say no! Why, is something wrong?” 

Evidently no one else had seen her near fall, and Jamie’s rescue of her. “No, it’s fine, I just didn’t realize we’d have such a big group is all.” Geillis started to ask her another question but Claire nudged her friend forward. “Come on, they won’t hold seats for us forever!” 

Claire was the last to get to the table. Her step faltered for only a moment -- when the only open spot was next to Jamie. 

“I can move, if ye’d be more comfortable --”

“Do you mind if I sit here --?”

They spoke over each other quickly, and simply nodded in answer to each other’s questions. Jamie move down the bench as much as he could with Angus animatedly telling a story on the other side, and Claire filled in the vacant spot on the open end of the booth. It should have been awkward, being strangers forced into tight quarters… but she could’ve sworn he relaxed into side. 

Not a minute into settling down, the DJ at the front of the bar announced, “Next up we Claire, Geillis, and Joe!” 

Momentarily forgetting why they came here, the three friends jumped up from their seats and headed to the makeshift stage with two spotlights, a few microphones, and a small television screen. The men left at the booth watched them with confusion and excitement as they made their way up to the front, and ready for the show from their newfound friends. 

Claire, Geillis, and Joe each took a microphone and began to sing -- if one could really call it that. By the end of Like A Prayer, they were yelling the lyrics, howling with laughter, falling over each other with every repetition of “Just like a prayer, you know I’ll take you there!” The pub clapped and cheered, as a drunk bar on karaoke night often does, and the three friends made their way back to the booth still trying to get enough air back in their lungs after the ceaseless laughter. 

“I didna know ye could sing!” Rupert hugged Geillis into his side and Angus leaned over the tabletop to playfully punch Joe in the shoulder. 

“I think he means that we didna know ye were the type who can’t sing, but still goes to karaoke anyway!” Angus winked at Geillis, and she couldn’t seem to get her giggles under control. 

“Hey now! Joe and I might not be stars or anything, but at least we’re fun -- unlike ye three, who haven’t gone up once!” Taking a gulp from her pint glass, she narrowed in on Claire. “Besides, we sound okay because someone can actually sing when she wants.” The table’s attention immediately moved to Claire with a bombardment of questions. 

“Ye can sing, lass?!”

“Go on, get up there and sing for me! Make it a bonny one!”

“Are ye a pop singer or a rock singer? I’ll have a different opinion of ye depending on the answer, ken?”

Then, another warm whisper. A hand on her knee.  

“Ye don’t strike me as a singer, Sasssenach.” 

Claire turned to face him then, her voice equally quiet when his eyes met hers. “And what do I strike you as?”

“A lass who struggles with her balance, for one,” he replied, “and who’s bad with awkward introductions and saying thank you, for two.” His eyes never left hers, but the crinkles on the edges only deepened with his smirk. Claire scoffed and protested, moving her leg away from his under the table, but his grasp tightened imperceptibly and his thumb was stroking the inside of her knee. “Maybe one day I won’t have to save ye from falling, and I’ll get to hear ye sing a little better than what I just saw.” Taking a swig from his glass, he continued to watch her. Claire started to object to his ideas of her, but Jamie’s attention was called away by Joe asking questions about his work. 

An hour passed by with many more drinks and much more laughter, with plans to meet up again next week. Joe left the party first to get back to his apartment to prepare for work the next day, followed by Rupert who claimed he needed to be up early to go into the shop. Soon it was just Angus and Geillis, who were most definitely going home together, and Claire and Jamie, who were most definitely not. 

“So what is it you actually do? I’ve been sitting next to you for a few hours now without a single notion of who you are besides your name.” They were sitting facing each other as best they could, trading stories and getting to know one another while Geillis and Angus got almost too close for decency. 

“Och, it’s no’ much. I opened a little bookstore in the area a few years back, and Angus and Rupert are my employees. More than that, I suppose, since I’ve known them my whole life. The bookstore was more a passion project a few years back, ken? Then one day, I decided I loved it more than engineering and left it all behind to give my all to the books.” Jamie’s eyes sparkled with mention of the bookstore, and Claire wanted to see him look like that forever. 

“What kind of stock do you have?” 

Jamie’s eyes positively twinkled. “Lots of antiques and first editions. I learned how to repair and restore old books when I was in college in Edinburgh. We carry the Times best seller list and lots of newer titles as well, but there’s nothing I love like an old book.” He smiled at her, and she melted. “Actually, there’s a favorite of mine--”

“Claire, get on up here!” The voice from the front boomed again, and she sent Jamie a wink as she scooted out of the booth. He stared at her dumbstruck, but released his hold on her leg. 

“Since you said my last song was horrible,” she teased over her shoulder as she walked to the front. 

He gave a hearty laugh and yelled to her, “I never said it was horrible! I said it wasn’t good!”

Claire had been coming to this pub for years now with Geillis and Joe for drinks and karaoke night. She was on a first-name basis with the regular DJs, and everyone knew her regular songs. Tonight was different. Tonight, she had met Jamie. She whispered to the DJ, walked on stage, and pulled out the piano bench. In the time it had taken Claire to move up front, Jamie followed suit just behind her to a table at the front. He had noticed the piano of course, but paid it no attention. Who would play a piano in a pub on karaoke night?

Claire would, evidently. She sat down, rolled her head a few times along her shoulders, and looked toward their booth. Jamie saw her fear when he wasn’t where she thought he’d be. He gave her a small wave, hoping the motion would draw her attention. She noticed, and flashed him the most brilliant smile he’d ever seen. She took a deep breath, and without playing, began to sing. 

“Grab me by my ankles, I’ve been flying for too long; I couldn’t hide from the thunder in a sky full of song. I want you so badly but you could be anyone; I couldn't hide from the thunder in a sky full of song. Hold me down, I’m so tired now; Aim your arrow at the sky. Take me down, I’m too tired now, leave me where I lie.”

The accompaniment was simple and melodic, Claire’s voice strong and dark. Jamie watched her play, the lyrics not lost on him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything but watch her. His chin rested on his hand, his elbow propped on the table. In that moment, he wished the night would never end but if it had to, then may he have many more with the enchanting woman before him. 

Jamie didn’t realize she had stopped playing until the crowd began to cheer -- the only thing to exist for him, was her. She stood, pushed in the bench, and put the microphone stand back where it belonged like she had just done the most normal thing in the world. She walked toward him, slowing the closer she got to him. 

“Jamie, you haven’t moved once.” One step closer. “Well, you’d bloody well say something.” She folded her hands across her chest with a sigh, eyes downcast at the sticky floor. 

He blinked, stood, and brought a hand up to brush away a particularly unruly curl. A thumb caressed rosy apples, dark eyelids fluttered up to meet glittering oceans. 

“Christ, Claire. Yer the most incredible woman I’ve ever seen.”

[ussjellyfish]

sightseeing pt 1 | philinda | AoS | explicit

Forgive me for the first chapter being foreplay...it’s not after this. (whisky help me).

Post-Finale fic, because I wanted one where she finds him.

No longer quite an agent, Phil Coulson went off to see the world. Professor Melinda May knows the kinds of places he likes. The rest isn't quite parasailing, but it's certainly classified.

It's his kind of place. Homey, old, with a scuffed, well worn floor and walls covered in history. Melinda isn't sure if seafood is something this version of Phil enjoys, but he's always been excited by good food and the scallops are divine here. Luckily the seagood is different enough from Tahiti to not dredge up her own longings. She won't be able to sit on a tropical beach without her chest aching but the stones and the Loch are pleasantly different. 

If he doesn't show, she'll get plenty of work done. Her stack of provisional field reports is much smaller than it was when she arrived on the ferry two days ago. She walks along the water in the morning, and does her tai chi between the trees and the shore. The locals are polite, and accustomed enough to tourists that they're neither curious or too chatty. 

The Old Forge pub's lively tonight with a sizeable group at the bar and a group playing something that's not pool. Phil would know what it is, and the rules, though he'd lose his shirt before he'd admit he wasn't that good at it. Maybe now he is. Maybe part of the upgrades are a passing skill with games. She hasn't got to play poker with him yet, but maybe now he finally has game. 

That thought makes her smile, and she sets down her pen. She should correct the papers on her laptop, but it feels wrong to sit in a place with history and type. The pen is Phil's, one of his exquisite collection of fountain pens and every once in awhile she gets ink all over her fingers. It feels like part of the job, so she lets it happen. The stains remind her of him.

Everything does. Phil's in the scent of whisky, men unbuttoning their suit coats before they sit down, blue ties, red ties, and the feel of leather. She hasn't stayed in a hotel without him, not in years, and the little cottage she's rented is designed to be shared, but it's easy enough to ignore the other bathrobe and the other towel. He'll be here.

Or he won't.

She's rarely wrong about him: what he likes, the kinds of places he finds interesting. He'd have a hard time resisting the most remote pub in the UK and he'd sit in the corner table and read his book. 

Melinda finishes her soup and sets the bowl aside. She's drunk half of her beer, and when it's gone she will allow herself one shot of whisky before she retreats to her cottage and the hot tub hidden in the trees.   

She's deep in her work, nearing the end of her pint when he walks in. It's him by the sound of his feet, even in hiking boots instead of derby shoes. Her reading glasses slip and she forces them up the bridge of her nose. Working without them ends in headaches and that's not how she wants tonight to end. 

Not that they--

Of course not. 

Phil orders a drink and searches the pub, his eyes fall on her and she doesn't look up. She can't, she's not ready to look at him, not if--

"Is this seat taken?"

"All yours."

He sits, setting down his pint next to hers. "These are new."

"Getting old."

"Not you," he teases. "Melinda May is an ageless goddess."

"Professor May gets fairly nasty headaches if she reads papers all day without them."

He smiles. "Are you sure that it's not the papers?"

Chuckling, she sets down her pen. His pen. Another him, another lifetime ago. Removing her glasses, she sets them down. "They're not that bad. Apparently it's too much time in a cockpit."

"They suit you." 

"Thanks."

"This suits you." He lifts his glass, taking a sip as he looks over her sweater. "You seem relaxed."

"Nowhere to be."

He takes a longer drink, rolling the ale over his tongue before he swallows. What different parts of it can he taste now? Does his tongue disect the molecules or does he taste it like she does? "How did you know I'd come here?" 

"The most remote pub in Scotland is definitely your thing." 

"I wanted to go to Ireland." The server sets his plate in front of him. Fish and chips. Of course.

She reaches across, stealing a chip. "You wouldn't go without me." 

He raises his eyebrows in mock indigence at her theft. "You already ate."

"You never finish your chips." 

"Because you do." Phil reaches for the vinegar and his fingers brush her wrist. Her heart thuds, too loud and too needy. 

"I missed you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"No, let me apologize." He holds up a chip as a peace offering. "I wasn't ready."

"You don't have to be."

"I am."

She eats the chip, trying to concentrate on the salt and crispy potato. Pay attention to her body, find the horizon, find her center. She can't slow her heartbeat, but she can ignore it. Pretend she can't taste the need in her chest.

"Ready for?"

"Whatever comes next." He smiles, really smiles, and they could be back at the Academy, studying in the cafeteria, decades ago. "You came all this way."

"It's spring break, I had the time."

"What if I didn't come?"

"You did."

"I did."

He finishes his pint and she tucks her papers into her briefcase. 

"What are we drinking? Islay or Speyside?"

"Not that peated one." 

Phil laughs, shaking his head. "I like that."

"I do too, but not tonight." 

"All right, something sweeter." He stands, heading back to the bar. "Don't eat all my chips."

"I'll leave one." 

She leaves three, just to be kind. 

Phil returns with whiskies, doubles, and slides hers across. Can he get drunk? Is it all about the taste, the ritual? 

"What are we drinking too?"

"A wild spring break?"

She raises an eyebrow. 

"Had to try." Those crinkles around his eyes are perfect, and him. So is the way she's not sure if his eyes are blue, hazel or brown. Must be the lighting.

"Thank you."

"I left you three, you should be grateful."

He eats one of the chips and chuckles. "That you found me?"

"Well, you weren't visiting."

"I--" 

"It's all right."

"It's not. I should have visited, you asked and I- I left you."

"You do that a lot." She didn't mean to say it, it's too harsh, but he nods all the same. 

"Sorry about that."

"Maybe this you sticks around."

"Would be nice."

"Yeah?"

"I'm enjoying it. Seeing the world, sitting in pubs., reading, watching...never had time for most of it. Couldn't take a day and read a book and now I can just flip through them." 

"Must be nice."

"Just say the word and I'll help you with your essays." He reaches out, hand open on the table.

"They're not bad."

"Solidly mediocre?"

"There's promise. Some will be good agents in a few years."

"Some dreadful ones." 

"Always a few."

They lift their glasses, eyes locked. "What are we drinking to?" 

"Seeing the world?"

"Having our feet the ground for once."

"Well, Lola is out back." He clinks his glass against hers. "To seeing it slowly." 

"To taking time."

Phil grins at that, his eyes softening as the little lines around them deepen. "That's not something we do."

"Maybe we start." 

His eyes won't leave her lips. The whisky starts sweet, then warms her throat. The last time he kissed her, he was dying, now death is a thousand years away. 

Phil sets his glass down on the table. "I'm not sure I know how."

"All that time wandering the world, reassessing, and you didn't figure out how to take your time?" Her cheeks flush, and it's not the whisky. His gaze has always been able to do that to her. 

"Never been good at it."

"Maybe it's time to learn some new skills."

He waves over the bartender and she refills their glasses without a word. Amber whisky glows in the weak light of the sunset through the window. 

"You think it's possible to teach new tech new tricks?"

"Isn't that one of the benefits of all your circuits?"

"Perhaps." He drinks without a toast, almost as if he has to fortify himself for what's to come. "I'm sorry, Melinda."

"For what?"

"So many things."

"Dying?"

"Not staying dead."

Shaking her head, she finishes her own whisky, barely tasting it this time. "The world's better with you in it, you know that."

"Even for you?"

"Of course it is, you're my best friend."

"I've been more than that."

She traces the rim of the glass with her finger. "You could be again."

"Is that what you want?"

Want isn't even the right word. Want is too simple. 

"I love you."

"Loved," he corrects her. "He's gone." 

"No, Phil, I love you. This you, the last you, the nerdy you before who used to stop by my cubicle on your coffee break just to make me laugh." 

"It's not--"

She reaches across the table and squeezes his hand, making sure to have all his attention. "It is that easy."

He gulps and stares, dumbfounded. It's pretty cute when he gets like this. "Okay."

"Do you want to wait five minutes and follow me to the cottage or come now?"

Phil smirks. "Is someone following us?"

"Would it matter?"

"Could be fun."

Laughing, she picks up her briefcase, tucking her glasses away. "Maybe for you."

"Fighting off the bad guys isn't foreplay anymore?" He grabs her jacket, opening it up so she can step in. 

Melinda reaches up to fix her hair, but he does, gently letting it fall onto her shoulders. "It's not as fun as it used to be." 

"So you need a new hobby?"

"The vacation might be enough."

"It's not a vacation if you're working." He rests his hand on her back as they leave the pub for the tiny street that goes nowhere.

"I needed to pass the time until you got here."

"So I'm late?"

"Aren't you always?" 

His fake wounded face hasn't changed in decades. "Hey."

"I don't mind waiting."

"Maybe you should." He touches her chin, stopping them in the street. No one's coming, there's nowhere to go. 

"What are you going to do about that?" 

Phil glances down the street, then at his feet. "I guess I'll find some guys to shoot at us, seemed to help last time."

"So romantic." She stands on her tiptoes, reaching up for his shoulder. He leans down, just a little, and they're close. Melinda tilts her head, tugs, and he laughs before they kiss. Her lips tingle from the drink and he tastes like whisky. At first he's tentative, gentle, so she deepens the kiss, opening her mouth, teasing- offering- and he takes.

His fingers slip into her hair, pulling her closer as his tongue tastes her. Does he remember kissing on the beach? Can he know what those weeks were like? Does he only remember the kiss behind the shield?

Does it matter? He's here. They're here. They have now; they've never been good at seizing their moments. Maybe that's something they can reassess together.

[superfreakerz]

IJR 2

Forgot to post this here, so here it is. 

“It’s Just Research”

Rated M for smut.

Summary: AU. After having her smut-filled story criticized for being amateurish, Lucy decides once and for all it’s time to gain some experience in the world of sex. Her best friend, Natsu, agrees to help her with her research. Together, the two explore each other’s bodies, all the while denying their feelings for each other and insisting that they are just doing research. 

Read earlier chapters on FF.net

Chapter 2

Aftermath

Lucy glanced at the alarm clock by her bed, wincing when she found that it was already two in the afternoon. It was Saturday, a whole week after she and Natsu had taken each other's virginities. Since then, she hadn't seen or heard from him since. Or anyone else in the gang for that matter since she had different classes from everyone.

Since that night, Lucy hadn't been able to bring herself to talk to Natsu. She couldn't even see the color pink without thinking of him and the scandalous touches he left on her skin- which was quite annoying since her room was covered in pink. She didn't want to think of that night, for it made her nervous.

She didn't know what was wrong with her. She wanted it and she loved it. It felt amazing and her body tingled every time she remembered his touch. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to face him.

Did he regret it? Did he only agree because he was drunk too? Was she bad at it? Questions like those plagued her mind. She was worried that despite her promise to him, their actions may have altered their friendship forever, and she didn't feel ready to deal with the aftermath.

Lucy's ears perked as there was a sudden knock at the front door. Dragging herself out of bed, she threw on a fluffy robe over her pajamas and quickly ran to answer the door. Hoping it wasn't Natsu on the other side, the girl took a deep breath before swinging the door open to find Levy instead.

"Levy-chan?" Lucy asked, surprised to see her there. "What's up? Is something wrong?"

"That's what I was going to ask you," Levy replied, her lips curled into a slight frown. "Can I come in?"

Lucy- despite wanting to say no in fear of Levy somehow finding out her secret with Natsu- nodded and stepped aside to let her friend in. The two sat on the couch, Lucy hugging a couch pillow and playing with the material in hopes of distracting herself.

"So… is something wrong?" Levy asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Cmon Lu-Chan. We haven't seen or heard from you in a week. You keep dodging my calls and you haven't been to Fairy Tail. Did something happen?"

Her night with Natsu replayed in her heard. She could almost feel his fingertips warming her skin as he grazed them along her body.

"Nope. Nothing in particular," Lucy answered, swallowing thickly. She could feel her face warming at the thought of Natsu.

Levy gave a skeptical look but didn't question her about it. "Why don't you come to Fairy Tail with me then? Everyone else is already over there."

"E-Everyone?"

Levy arched a brow. "Yeah, everyone. We all miss you. Now can you please come with me?"

Lucy fiddled with her fingers before sighing softly. "Yeah, I'll come. Just give me a minute to get ready."

As Lucy got ready, her anxiety grew. She was scared to see Natsu, but she promised him that she wouldn't let what happened ruin their friendship, so she was going to try her best to keep that promise.

After getting ready, the two headed for Fairy Tail. Fairy tail was a local pub run by the Strauss siblings. Lucy was particularly close to Mira, the oldest sibling and boss of the place. It was a popular place among all in Magnolia, filled with rowdy people of all ages.

As they approached the grand doors of Fairy Tail, Lucy took a deep breath before following Levy inside. She kept her eyes glued on the floor, her nerves getting the best of her. Reaching the table, she gulped, sweat dripping down the back of her neck.

"Lucy! Where have you been? It's been forever!" she heard Gray exclaim.

"Sorry guys, I've just been caught up with something," Lucy replied, sliding into the booth next to Levy. She kept her eyes glued to the table. She could feel someone's gaze boring into her, and she didn't have to lift her head to know who it was.

"Caught up? With what?" Erza asked.

"Oh you know, the usual. Studying, writing, the usual."

"Oh are you writing a new story? We usually don't see you for a week whenever you start a new one."

"Yep! That's what I was doing!"

"What's this one about?" Jellal asked.

"Uhh… That's a secret." Before anyone could question her any further, Lucy asked, "So what about you guys? Anything new happen while I was gone?"

Gajeel nodded his head toward Natsu. "That's what we've been trying to figure out for the last half hour now. It's obvious something's up with him, but he won't tell us anything. Even Erza couldn't convince him to tell her anything."

Lucy's eyes involuntarily peeked up towards Natsu, whose gaze was now glued to the table, obviously not a fan of where the conversation headed thanks to Gajeel. His cheeks were dusted pink, his lips tugged into a frown. As Lucy stared at him, she couldn't help but wonder what was going on inside his head.

"Now that you're here, you can drag it out of him," Gray said, catching her attention.

She moved her gaze onto the raven-haired boy. "W-What?"

"Well if Erza couldn't get him to 'fess up, then you're our only hope."

Lucy faltered. It was true. Whenever something was on Natsu's mind, she was the group's representative sent to figure out what it was and to cheer him up because she was usually the only one he confided in. It wasn't that he didn't trust the others, it was just that he didn't like opening up about such things and only preferred to do it with her. In truth, it made her feel special.

"Well, uhh, maybe we should stop questioning him about it. I'm sure he'll open up when he's ready," Lucy said. After all, she had a pretty good idea as to what was on his mind, and she did not want the group to know about it. Not now and maybe not ever.

The group shared a glance.

"Uhh, okay," Gray replied, having not expected that answer.

Finally, the group broke up into separate conversations, giving Lucy a moment of relief. It was hard to keep such a big secret from them, especially the girls. She promised them long ago that she would tell them everything once she lost her virginity, but now that it was with Natsu, she had to keep her lips sealed.

Peeking at Natsu in the corner of her eye, she found that he was still staring at the table, not even paying attention to the conversations around him. The air around them was so thick, it felt like she was going to suffocate.

Standing up from the table, Lucy wordlessly headed towards the bar in desperate need of a breath of fresh air- air that wasn't around Natsu. As always, Mira was manning the bar with her signature cheery smile.

"Hi, Lucy," she greeted, grabbing a large cup. "Want your usual?"

"Yes please," the blonde replied with a grateful smile.

The two idly chatted while Mira made her a strawberry milkshake, spraying a mountain's worth of whipped cream on top.

Lucy thanked the other girl for the milkshake, reaching into her pocket to grab her wallet when Mira stopped her.

"This one's on the house," she stated with a wink.

Lucy tilted her head to the side. "Really? Why? Is there some sort of promotional deal going on?"

"Nope. I could tell something was troubling you the moment you stepped in, so I thought I would try to cheer you up a bit."

"Oh, Mira, I'm fine! Here, let me pay!"

"Nope! I already said it's on the house, now shoo!"

Lucy smiled at the older girl. "Thank you, Mira."

"You're welcome, Lucy. I hope whatever it is gets resolved soon."

With a wave, Lucy headed back to the table, where everyone was still wrapped up in their conversations. That is, until they saw her drink.

"Oh great, something's bugging you too?" Gajeel asked, his gaze directed at her.

"What do you mean?" Lucy replied.

"You only get extra whipped cream whenever you're upset or something," Gray elaborated.

Lucy's mouth parted. They all noticed that small detail about her? They weren't just her closest friends for nothing.

"Hurry up and tell us who did it," Gajeel said. Lucy shivered at the threatening glint in his crimson eyes, knowing that if she were to tell him someone had wronged her, he would personally handle it in a way that left someone in a hospital. That was just how their group worked. They would pay someone back tenfold if they were to hurt one of them.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," the girl insisted. "I just felt like having more whipped cream today!"

"Oh bullshit! First Salamander and now you? What's up with all the secrets!?"

"Lucy, you know you can tell us anything," Erza added.

"I know, but-"

"No but's. If something is on your mind, you should let it out and we'll listen. That's what friends are for."

Lucy ran a hand through her hair. She felt the urge to look over to Natsu, but she resisted. She knew that her friends would definitely pick up on the small action if she did.

She thought about telling them. She did promise the girls to tell them when she lost her virginity. Not only that, but maybe this would give her a chance to let Natsu know how she felt about the whole thing- though in truth, she still wasn't totally sure how she felt yet. All she had to do was alter a few details because she still wasn't comfortable with them knowing about her and Natsu.

"Okay, fine," Lucy said with a sigh. "You got me." She could feel Natsu's gaze whip towards her.

"Spit it out already!" Gajeel barked.

"Alright, alright! Sheesh!" She narrowed her eyes at them. "But you have to promise to keep your voices down when I tell you!"

"We promise!" Levy replied for all of them.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy thought back to that fateful night. She pictured Natsu's hands roaming her body, his hot lips grazing her flesh.

"I, uhh…" Glancing around the room to make sure nobody was listening, she lowered her voice to a whisper and continued, "I lost my virginity."

In an instant, everyone's eyes grew to the size of golf balls and their jaws dropped.

Erza's face in particular matched her hair as she sputtered, "Y-You had sex?"

Lucy buried her face in her hands and nodded. "Yeah, I did."

Gray furrowed his brows as he glanced towards Natsu. His face was scrunched up and his lips were pulled into a straight line.

"Lucy must've already told him," Gray thought, feeling sorry for him. He'd long since known about Natsu's feelings for Lucy. Hell, he probably knew about them before Natsu did. "He must've been devastated when Lucy told him, and that's why he's like this."

"Wait, who the hell did you have sex with?" Gajeel asked, clearly on the same page as Gray.

Lucy made sure to keep her gaze straight as she lied, "It was just some guy."

"Just some guy!?" Levy asked. "What do you mean just some guy!?"

"Just some guy I met."

"Where?"

"Uhh, on one of those apps."

"Lucy! Is that really how you wanted it to happen?" Erza asked.

Lucy furrowed her brows. "People do it all the time, why can't I?"

"Because you always talked about how you wanted it to happen! You said you were waiting to find the love of your life first!"

"Well, I got tired of waiting, okay? And I didn't want my inexperience to affect my writing anymore."

Juvia frowned. "Oh, Lucy, did you do it because of what we said about your story?"

Lucy tore her eyes away. "Maybe. Look, it doesn't matter why I did it. The point is, I did. And that's why I've been a little M.I.A."

"Why? Was it bad?" Levy asked. "Was he not attentive or gentle?"

"No, no! It's not that at all!" Lucy answered, shaking her head. It was embarrassing to talk about it, especially with the boys, but it was also relieving to get off her chest. And it was also nice to be able to tell Natsu what she felt without having to tell him directly. "The sex was great. Amazing."

Levy frowned as she asked, "Then what's bothering you? Do you regret doing it with him?"

Lucy heard a sharp intake of breath and couldn't help but glance towards Natsu. Her eyes met his, and she could tell he was wondering the same question.

Tearing her eyes away, Lucy shook her head.

"I don't regret it at all," she answered, her voice steady and her gaze firm. "It was a little embarrassing at first, but I don't regret a single thing that happened that night. In fact…"

She replayed the night over in her head, her cheeks set ablaze. As she was voicing her thoughts aloud, she finally understood what it was she was feeling. She felt nervous- nervous that Natsu didn't feel the same way about that night.

Because she wanted to do it again.

She wanted to feel his fingers against her skin, his lips on hers. She wanted all of him again and again. Thoughts about their night kept invading her mind and driving her body crazy, and she had a feeling they would continue to do so until she acted on her urges again.

"In fact," Lucy repeated, dragging her finger around the rim of her glass, "if he wanted, I would be more than willing to do it again."

Natsu's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open. His whole body felt like it was on fire, some of it shooting down to his pants. Burying his face in his scarf, he hid the grin that was taking over his face, not wanting the group to see it in fear that they would unravel Lucy's lies.

"So, yeah. That's about it," Lucy said with a shrug. Taking a sip of her milkshake, she hoped the cold drink would help cool off her body.

Juvia squealed, clasping her hands together. "Lucy, you're glowing!"

The blonde cocked her head to the side. "Glowing?"

"Yeah! Lucy is in love!"

The girl choked on her milkshake, spitting it out onto the table. "L-Love!?"

"Yes! Juvia has an eye for these things! It was love at first sight for Lucy, just like it was for Juvia!"

"I-I wouldn't go that far…" Lucy replied, tugging on the hem of her sweater. She hoped Juvia didn't give Natsu the wrong idea. She wasn't in love with Natsu. He was her best friend! She just wouldn't mind having a few benefits on the side if he was willing.

Meanwhile, Natsu couldn't deny the soft blow to his heart upon hearing Lucy's subtle denial. Still, he couldn't help but feel happy with what she said earlier.

"Anyways, it's been fun catching up with you guys, but as you know, midterms are coming up and I've got some more studying to do," Lucy said as she rose up from her seat.

"Wait! Before you go, can we see a picture of this guy!?" Levy asked.

"Nope!"

"Can we at least know his name!?"

Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. "Sorry, Levy-chan! That information is classified. Bye now!"

Before the group could bombard her with more questions, Lucy bolted for the door.

Three hours passed when Lucy felt a gust of wind wash over her back as she sat at her desk. She didn't need to turn around to know that her window had been opened, and that the soft sounds coming from the window were from none other than the boy who invaded her thoughts for the past week.

Warmth traveled through her body, the space between her thighs tingling with excitement as she heard Natsu stop just behind her. His abnormal body heat washed over her, sending a shiver down her spine as she thought of him closing the space between them.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to break into my apartment?" Lucy teased, thanking the heavens she didn't stutter. She still hadn't turned to face him, not wanting him to see the blush on her face.

"How many times do I have to tell you to lock the window if you don't want me breakin' in?" Natsu replied, his voice sending another shiver down her spine. Oh what she would give to have those lips against her again.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy swiveled the chair around to face Natsu, though with her sitting in the chair, her eyes were met with his toned abs instead. Gulping, the girl forced herself to meet his eyes, heat rushing to her cheeks as she pictured what was just below the hem of his pants.

"Hey, Natsu," Lucy squeaked. Clearing her thought, she brought her voice back down to its normal pitch. "W-What are you doing here?"

Natsu's lips straightened as he stared her down.

"Is it true?"

Lucy arched a brow. "Is what true?"

Natsu rubbed the back of his head awkwardly while nudging her carpet with the tip of his shoe. He suddenly whipped his head towards her, his onyx orbs gleaming with fierce resolve.

"Is it true that you don't regret what we did?" he asked. "Or were you just saying that earlier so they would get off your back?"

"Oh. Well I meant it," Lucy replied. "And I hope you don't regret it either."

"I don't!" Natsu exclaimed. Realizing his outburst, he ducked his face behind his scarf to hide his enthusiasm.

Still, he couldn't hide it from Lucy.

The girl blushed, clearing her throat and turning back towards her desk. She pretended to read through her notebook, absentmindedly flipping pages and moving her finger along the lines.

"Did you mean the other thing too?"

Her finger stopped, her eyes growing wide.

Slowly swiveling back around, she played with a lock of hair while swallowing thickly.

"M-Maybe," she replied meekly. "That is, if you want to, I mean."

"Do you want to?" Natsu asked.

"You tell me, I asked first!"

"No you didn't! I did!"

"No, your exact words were 'that is, if you want to.' Not a question, so I win!"

Lucy crosses her arms with a huff. "Well I want to, okay?" Realizing the words that slipped past her, she slapped her hands over her mouth. "I-I mean, we only did it once, so I'm still pretty inexperienced. I need to learn more if I really want to improve my writing."

"Oh, yeah. Your writing, of course," Natsu replied, nodding along. "And you do wanna be a famous author someday, so we can't let your writing be amateurish, right? What kinda best friend would I be if I didn't help you with your dream?"

"Exactly! So it's not weird for us to do this, right?"

"Not at all!"

The two broke eye contact, instead opting to stare at opposite walls as they laughed nervously.

"Well, let's set some ground rules if we're really going to do this," Lucy said, cupping her chin in thought. "First, we have to acknowledge that this is simply for my writing, that's it." After what Juvia said earlier, she couldn't risk Natsu getting the wrong idea. Not that he felt that way about her anyways, but just to be safe.

"Okay," Natsu replied, ignoring the punch to his gut he felt from her words. "I have a rule. If either one of us wants to stop, we have to tell the other person."

"Sounds good to me." Though she hoped he wouldn't want to stop anytime soon. "And most importantly, we can't let this ruin our friendship no matter what. If it seems like it's affecting our friendship, we call it quits. Got it?"

Natsu nodded. "Sounds good."

He held his hand out towards her, to which she accepted. They shook hands, solidifying their set of rules.

"So…" Natsu started, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Wanna go get some food?"

Lucy grinned. "Ooh yes! I'm starving!"

"Good! You're paying!"

"What!? No way! I paid last time!"

"No you didn't! I did!"

As the two bickered their way out of Lucy's apartment, their pact slipped their minds. In the moment, they were just two best friends, same as ever. Little did they know what the future had in store for them.

[ijustwant2write]

Reversed Roles-Harry Villiers x Reader

(GIF credit to @fandomvariousness)

Masterlist

Requested by anonymous

Summary: ‘Hello :) can I request a one shot where Reader is like the female version of Harry Villiers (she uses boys for her own pleasure) and Harry is a bit shocked when she gets dress immediately after going at it? Like, usually he is the one doing so, and now he is intrigued so he starts “chasing” her and the other boys make fun of him for that. You can end it as you prefer :) Love you!’

Characters: Harry Villiers x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name            (Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Light smut, one night stand (?), using people for sex, swearing

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Harry Villiers knew he was taking someone home tonight. He always did, even when he wasn’t planning to. He and his mates were seated at the local pub, filled with many other university students. It was the end of the week, everyone was tired from the lectures and the work they had been doing, but no one would pass up an opportunity to get shitfaced. As Harry sipped on his beer, his eyes drifted around the room, finally stopping when he saw the size of an arse on this girl at the bar. He was staring without shame, smirking to himself when she turned around, a large glass of wine in her hand; she was fucking stunning, and that’s when he knew who he was going after tonight.

“Villiers, you can’t be serious.” Dimitri chuckled, grabbing his attention back to the table.

“What?”

“You know who that is, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Oh my days, he doesn’t know who she is!” Toby giggled with Ed.

“That’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N), she’s the best shag in Oxford.” Guy said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well then, I best get a move on. The night is still young.” Harry smirked, though it disappeared when his friends laughed at him.

“You’re going to be in for a shock mate. She’s not like the others you’ve had.” 

“How? She’s just a girl that’s good at sex, isn’t she?”

“Whatever you say Villiers.” Toby kept on laughing.

“Fuck off, all of you.”

Harry calmed himself before approaching this (Y/N), not caring for what his friends had to say. They were implying something, what it was, he didn’t know, but that didn’t matter. He was Harry Villiers, he could get this girl in and out of his room before bringing another one in. He was slightly surprised when she held eye contact with him as he walked over, a smug smile on her lips. She was leaning back against the bar, casually drinking. 

“Finally, thought you were never going to stop staring at me.” she confidently said.

“I think I still am. Harry Villiers.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Beautiful name to go with an even more beautiful face.”

She scoffed.“Did you steal that pickup line from your grandfather?”

He hesitantly chuckled, not used to girls being so confident around him.“Well, you’re awfully confident, aren’t you?”

“Most girls you go after are just mops aren’t they? Melting right at your feet before you even open your mouth.”

“Your words, not mine.”

“Am I different then? Am I a challenge?”

“Is it a challenge if I’m winning?”

“You might want to do a recount of your points before announcing you’re the champion.” (Y/N) relished in his stunned silence, taking an opportunity to take a chug of her wine, almost finishing it.“Look, we both know why we’re having this conversation. Let’s skip all this and go back to your dorm.”

“W-what?”

“Do I have to spell it out to you?”

“Well, I’m not objecting.”

The lads were not wrong.

Harry was never one to compliment women (unless it was to get him into this situation), but (Y/N) was definitely the best fuck he had ever had, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she said the same about him. He normally never stayed with a girl for long, didn’t go many rounds either; (Y/N) was an entirely different story. He had lost count of how long it had been since the night before, but he was well and truly done, heavily breathing as he closed his eyes. (Y/N) stirred next to him, slowly getting out of bed. Harry assumed she was headed to the en suite before she would return, but was surprised when he saw her grabbing her clothes.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked as he sat up on his elbows.

“Getting dressed.” she clasped up her bra, Harry almost moaning at the sight.

“Why?”

“Because I’m leaving.”

“...why?”

She was now fully dressed below her waist, walking back over to him. Perching a knee on the bed, she leaned over him, giving the young man a good view of her cleavage. 

“Well, we’ve had sex, quite good sex actually, and I no longer need to be here.” she pecked his lips before putting her top on.“Lovely to meet you Villiers.”

Harry was stunned to silence as she walked out, acting as if nothing happened. What the fuck had just happened? And what had she called their sex? Quite good?

QUITE GOOD?!

It had bothered him for days since. How had this girl got control over him? All he could think about was (Y/N) and how frustrating it was that she couldn’t give a shit about him. He hadn’t crossed paths with her since, and he knew it was a big university, but surely they would have spotted each other by now? 

As he and the club were on their way to the weekly meeting, he was ranting to them about the girl, getting angry over the matter. None of his friends had ever seen him worked up over a girl; some found it odd, he sounded like a mad man whilst others were almost pissing themselves laughing. Harry seemed to be like a cray ex-boyfriend still obsessed with his ex.

“Oh mate, you will never guess who’s here.” Guy slapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder, grabbing his face and directing him to where (Y/N) stood.

“What the fuck.” Harry exclaimed as he saw her talking to another man.

“It’s not like she’s your girlfriend, you seriously need to get over her.”

“Fuck off bellend.”

Without hesitation, he leaped from his chair, stomping towards her when he realised she was leaving with the stranger. He picked up the pace, almost running after them as he shouted her name in the street. She and the stranger turned around, thinking it was a drunk friend calling them. (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed when she saw Harry, wondering why he looked so angry.

“Harry?” 

“What do you think you’re doing?” he finally stood in front of her, ignoring the guy beside her.

She chuckled.“Uh, are you really asking me that?”

The stranger decided to interrupt.“Mate, we’re sort of busy right now-”

“Fuck off.” Harry bluntly said.

“James, why don’t you go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”

“It’s..it’s Jake.”

“That’s what I meant.”

(Y/N) sighed, crossing her arms over her chest.“Harry, what’s this about?”

“You left me after we fucked. That’s never happened before.”

“OK?”

“You said the sex was ‘quite good’. Our sex was amazing!”

“If you think so.”

“And for some reason I cannot stop thinking about you and it’s pissing me off to no end.”

“Aw, Harry, you’re secretly a romantic. Please don’t tell me you’re about to proclaim your love for me.”

“Why didn’t you think our sex was as good as I did?”

“Wow, you’re really fucked off about this. That wasn’t your best performance was it?”

He said nothing, eyes wide like a maniac.

“Oh, maybe it was.” she thought for a moment, smirking before speaking.“Tell you what, why don’t you prove me wrong?”

“Prove you wrong?”

“Yeah. Tale me back to yours again and actually show me a good time.”

“You’re such a bitch. What about your friend?”

“Who gives a fuck, I didn’t even know his name. Though if you don’t live up to my expectations, I can always go to him for a good time.”

“Darling, you won’t even be able to walk a foot out of my room once I’m done with you.”

[stahlop]

Must Love Dogs (2/?)

Here is Chapter 2!  Killian is finally introduced beyond his profile, but he and Emma still won’t physically meet yet.

I’d like to thank @profdanglaisstuff, not only for being my beta, but for this wonderful artwork that she made for me!

Also on Ao3

Chapter 2

Killian didn’t usually work so late, but they were revamping the whole website at work, something about making it more user friendly (he didn’t how much more user friendly he could possibly make it), so he’d been working late nights for the past week or so.

Jolly didn’t appreciate the late hour.  She liked sleeping with him on his bed and stealing his blankets. She didn’t care for the many dog beds he had bought her to try to deter her from this. She was currently trying to get his attention by nuzzling her head under his arm while he was trying to maneuver his mouse around in his graphic design application.

“I know, Jolly,” he sighed, checking the time and seeing that it was close to midnight,  “I’m almost done for the night.” He scrubbed his hand over his face as the tiredness was seeping in and his eyes were starting to droop.

He took a last sip of the decaffeinated tea he had been drinking and was about to turn off the computer when he noticed an email alert in his notifications. Normally, he would let it keep until the morning, but being that his bosses tended to email him whenever an idea for the website struck, he figured he should check it out, just in case.

At first glance he thought it was spam mail that had made it through his spam filter, as he couldn’t recall what Mustlovedogs.com would be, and then he remembered.  

One year ago…

After years of working at a company that didn’t seem to appreciate his graphic design talents, Killian had finally secured a job at the boat touring company he’d been in negotiations with for the past few weeks!  This was cause for a celebratory drink with friends.  Luckily, Robin and Will were available on such short notice.

“Cheers, mate!” Both Robin and Will chorused as they started on their first round of Guinness. They knew he’d been miserable in his last job and had mainly stayed on because his ex-girlfriend worked there as well.  When they had broken up, Killian knew he had to find some other place to work.  He couldn’t be at a job he hated plus work around the woman who had broken his heart.

They were about to order a second round when the dreaded ex walked in, with his former boss on her arm.

“Shit!” Killian cursed, “Milah, just walked through the fucking door with Mr. Gold.” His Guinness went down his throat a little bit faster; his joyous mood now turning sour.

“We need to get this bloke out of here.” Will said to Robin who nodded in agreement. While Killian and Milah had been broken up for about three months now, seeing her on the arm of another man, especially the man who didn’t appreciate his talents at work, could bring about another bout of self-pity, which was not something Robin or Will wanted to be around again.

“I thought we were celebrating.” Killian said as his friends tried to walk him home. He instead turned into a local pub that was just a few doors down from where they’d been.

“Three rum shots!” Killian announced to the bartender when he approached the bar.

“Mate,” Will began  “I don’t think we need to be drinking the hard stuff tonight.  I thought we were just having a few beers to celebrate.”

“Who said any of these were for you?” Killian asked immediately downing all three in a matter of seconds.

“Okay, then.” Robin said giving Will the look that said Killian needed to be brought home now. 

Robin paid the bartender and both he and Will took Killian out of his second bar for the night and walked him the rest of the way home.  Luckily, Killian didn’t live that far away from the bars they liked to frequent.

“Rolly Joger!” Killian exclaimed as his dog greeted him at the door. Both Will and Robin snickered at the fact that Killian was already drunk enough that he had messed up his dog’s name.

“At least I have one lady that loves me.” He said kneeling down to Jolly and letting her give him kisses all over his face.

“And I think that is our cue to leave.” Robin said to Will.  They closed the door behind them as Killian continued to be bathed in dog kisses.

“Maybe that’s what I need, Jolly. A lady that loves me...us...both you and me.”He said, getting up from the floor and going over to his laptop. “There has to be someone out there who appreciates a man and his dog.”

He somehow managed to get his cursor into the Google bar and typed in ‘dating sites must love dogs’.  

He chuckled at the memory. His breakup with Milah had been painful, but he had decided to adopt Jolly after it had happened, and then he got his current job, a job he was much happier in.  So, he really did have Milah to thank for all that. Apparently, a year later,  his profile was still up and someone was interested, having sent him a virtual kiss. He checked the time, seeing it was close to midnight and he was supposed to be at work at 8 the next morning, but looking at the profile couldn’t hurt, right?

He clicked the link, impressed himself by remembering the username and password he had set up for himself a year ago, and opened up the profile of one Emma Swan.

Suddenly, Killian wasn’t tired anymore.  On his screen was a blonde goddess with a dog similar to his own.  He could swear his heart skipped a beat.  Jolly whined again.

“Hold on there, Jolly, I’ll be ready in a minute.” He had to read this woman’s profile.  There was no way her looks and personality could match.

But they did. 

“She’s studying to be in law enforcement, Jolly!  Do you know how incredibly sexy that is?” He gave his pup a smooch on the top of her head. Jolly tried to nuzzle his head some more, but Killian was already up, taking his empty mug of tea to the sink. This woman, this Emma Swan, he could tell she had seen his profile first, had written hers to somewhat match the same playful (drunken) tone he’d taken on in his, and he liked that.  Liked that she already wanted to impress him, wanted him to like her.  He felt like she was talking directly to him.

He quickly changed into a pair of BU sweatpants and brushed his teeth.  Jolly got herself situated onto her side of the bed.  Killian went back to the laptop and Jolly whined.

“I know, I know, just let me do one more thing Jolly, and then I’m all yours.” He grinned at his dog who was currently giving him the evil eye because he wasn’t in the bed yet. He clicked the button to send a virtual kiss back, then closed his laptop and got into bed. Jolly gave him a lick on the nose, turned twice on the bed, and went to sleep.  

He hadn’t been this excited about a woman since Milah. Hopefully, this wouldn’t end up the same way, although he highly doubted a married woman would be on a dating site. Killian couldn’t wait to see if he’d receive something else from the beautiful and well-spoken Miss Swan the next day.

EKEKEK

Emma woke to Ditie’s head in her face, her normal way of waking her up.  She would put her head on the mattress and put her face right up in Emma’s face, starting at her until she woke up.  The first few times Ditie had done that she’d freaked Emma out when she had woken up, scaring poor Ditie back to her dog bed.  But Emma had gotten used to it, even though her heart still skipped a little upon waking up.

“Need to go out, Ditie?” Emma asked stretching.  Ditie chuffed as though this were a stupid question.  It was morning, of course she had to go out. She padded out of Emma’s bedroom and over to the front door to wait for Emma to get ready.

After Emma did her daily morning routine: bathroom, brush teeth, and put on workout clothes, Emma gathered the leash, put it on Ditie’s collar and started on their daily walk.

It was seven in the morning, not too early, although, earlier than Emma would have normally been up before she had a dog.  Emma had never been a morning person, but she now had a dog she was responsible for. Luckily, there was a dog park not too far away that they would walk to, plus Emma could get her morning coffee fix right before the entrance of the park.

Once they made it to the park, coffee in hand, Emma let Ditie go while she sat down on her usual bench.  She watched Ditie sniff and play around with the few other dogs in the park this early before getting her phone out of the hidden pocket of her workout leggings to check her email.

She was hoping that she’d have some info about the skip she was currently tracking, but instead she saw a reply back from the MustLoveDogs.com website.  Killian Jones had also sent her a virtual kiss!

Her heart skipped several beats when she saw that.  She noticed that the time sent on the email was 11:59 PM, which means he’d seen it and responded almost immediately after she’d sent the original kiss. The ball was now in her court.

But she wasn’t sure what to do now.  The bigger dating sites had an instant messenger type feature. She could usually feel a guy out by his short responses to see if she wanted to go out on a date.  Of course, most of her dates had gone horribly, so maybe instant messaging was not the way to figure out if someone was a good match.  This site was pretty new so it didn’t have that feature.  She could email him through the site though.

As she sat on the bench contemplating her next move, someone sat down directly next to her, practically pushing her off the bench.  She was about to give this person a piece of her mind when she saw who it was.

“Ruby!’ she yelled, “What the hell?” Ruby just laughed, flipping her brown locks with red streaks behind her shoulders.

“Sorry,” she replied with a smile on her bright red lips, way too bright for seven in the morning, “I saw you sitting her when I brought Wolfie in and you seemed so deep in thought, I couldn’t resist.” Ruby was one of the first friends she had made when Emma had moved to Boston.  Her grandmother owned the 24-hour diner where she and Ruby had worked. They had worked many a graveyard shift together catering to the drunk college students in the wee hours of the night.

“What are you doing here so early?” Emma asked.  Ruby’s girlfriend, Dorothy usually walked Wolfie, their Alaskan Malamute/Samoyed mix, in the mornings.  Ruby was less of a morning person than Emma was.

“She’s visiting relatives in Kansas for the week.” Ruby pouted, “Which means I have morning Wolfie duty this week. What’s so interesting on your phone this morning?”

Emma almost took the phone away, embarrassed that she already seemed so into a guy that she’d only read a profile for, but if anyone would give her an honest opinion about this, it was Ruby, as she was known for being as blunt as someone could be. Emma gave a sigh.

“So, I found a guy online, we haven’t even interacted yet except for a virtual kiss, which is basically like a nudge or poke on most dating sites, but I think he could be it.” Emma said as quickly as she could.  Ruby raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“Look at you Emma, you’re blushing.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you blush over a guy.  You’re usually a ‘one and done’ kind of girl.  I mean, I know you were trying the whole online dating thing, but this is different.” She stared at her friend, “Let me see his profile.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Emma said, still a little embarrassed, the flush on her cheeks spreading further down her face, “I mean, like I said, we haven’t even spoken yet, it could be nothing.” but she reluctantly started pulling up the website to show to Ruby.

“Honey, that face is not nothing.” She greedily grabbed the phone from Emma the moment Killian’s profile loaded up.

“Oh, he’s cute!” Ruby gushed.  She quickly read over the profile and laughed at Jolly’s profile muttering ‘pirates and Peter Pan’ under her breath.  Then she looked up at Emma with the most sincere look Emma had ever seen before.

“Emma, I have a feeling about this guy.  I think he sounds perfect for you.  Send him an email.”

“Oh, god!” Emma said worriedly, “I wouldn’t even know what to say.  What the hell do you write in an email to a guy you think is hot and writes like a poet? This is way out of my depth.” She put her head in her hands.

“Here’s what I think you should express to him in the email,” Ruby started, but both Ditie and Wolfie barreled into them at that exact moment to get attention from their owners.

“I think that’s my cue.” Ruby stated.  Both she and Emma got up and attached leashes to collars and harnesses. The women got up and gave each other hugs.  Emma put her phone back in the hidden pocket of her workout pants and started to walk away when she suddenly turned back toward Ruby.

“What did you think I should I put in the email?” Emma asked as she had just remembered that  Ruby had been interrupted before she finished telling her what to write.  Ruby turned to Emma, gave her a wolfish grin with her big, red lips, then turned back around and walked away.  

“Of course.” Emma said to herself. She was an adult, she would be able to figure this out herself. She and Ditie exited the park and headed back to her apartment to start getting ready for work.

EKEKEK

Killian was not a fidgety person by nature.  He was usually very focused on the task at hand which left no room for fidgeting. And even though he was very focused on redesigning the website, he was constantly checking his email to see if Emma Swan had responded back yet. 

And she hadn’t.  

Hence the fidgeting. 

Which meant tapping the fingers that weren’t on his trackpad on the table.  

And annoying his co-worker. 

Who also happened to be his brother. 

And a big reason why Killian had wanted to work at this company.

“Little brother,” Liam started.

“Younger brother.” Killian corrected before getting out of his email and back to his work.

“Killian.” Liam said trying again.

“Yes.” Killian said not taking his eyes off his computer.  

“What’s with the tapping?” 

“Bloody hell!” Killian thought, immediately stopping the tapping and putting his hand around his coffee cup instead. Hopefully, having something physically in his hand would temper the impulse to tap his fingers on his desk.

“Killian.” Liam said almost menacingly.

“I’m just really engrossed in redesigning the website for the company you work for.” Killian said taking a sip of the now lukewarm coffee. “It’s the biggest project the company has let me undertake and I don’t want to bollocks it up.”

“Killian.” Liam said again, his arms now crossed, the pose that Killian knew meant he needed to tell him what was distracting him now. The pose that throughout his whole childhood, made him seem more like his father rather than his older brother.

“I…” Killian started, but realized it was much too soon to be telling his brother, or anyone for that matter, about someone online that he had only communicated with by virtual kiss. He knew he was acting a bit irrationally.  He felt like a 13-year-old boy with his first crush.  Like he had sent her a note in class and was waiting for a response to the question ‘Will you be my girlfriend? Tick Yes or No.’ 

“It’s nothing, Liam.  I just have a lot on my mind. I realized it had been about a year since I started working here, and that reminded why I started here in the first place…” He trailed off.  He supposed invoking the memory of his ex was worth it just to get Liam off his back.  Liam knew it had taken Killian quite some time to get over Milah. And maybe Killian did feel a little bad bringing up Milah when he wasn’t really in that place anymore.  He had thought Milah was it, the love of his life, but he had this invigorating feeling that he hadn’t felt in a long time…. He was positive, given the chance, he could fall in love with this Emma Swan.

Liam lifted an eyebrow.  He didn’t believe his brother for a second.  This distraction was not from memories of a broken heart.  This distraction seemed like it was almost from… hope? But he wasn’t going to push.  Killian would tell him what was going on when he was ready.

“I need to get back to…” An email popped up.  An email from the MustLoveDogs website from one Emma Swan! Killian didn’t even think about the fact that Liam was still there.  He immediately clicked to open the email.

Hi Killian,

 I was so glad to get that virtual kiss back from you.  I’ll admit, I felt really dumb doing that, but the website doesn’t have an instant messaging program to contact you in a better fashion. Anyway, I thought I’d tell you that I really liked your profile (which I’m sure you figured out from me contacting you) and I love the fact that we both have the same type of dogs. How long have you had Jolly? I just recently got Aphrodite a few months ago.  She’s been a great addition to my life.  I don’t know how I survived before her. And luckily, she doesn’t mind my weird work hours.  I said in my profile that I work in bail bonds. It is definitely not your normal 9-5 job.  In fact, there are really no set hours. It just depends on how dumb the scumbags I go after are sometimes. And because of that I have to keep in good shape.  I hope you don’t mind the fact that I can usually manhandle a guy that’s at least 220lbs, otherwise I wouldn’t be that good at my job. And, like my profile said, I’m working toward my degree in Criminal Justice and looking to get into the police academy. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for awhile now, and I’ve finally got to a point where I can do it.  It’s been tough trying to do everything, but I really don’t want to be in bail bonds for the rest of my life.  I’d rather have a regular paycheck and backup if I need it.  Not that I can’t take care of myself, but if you knew some of the situations I’ve gotten myself into and out of, well....

Graphic Design sounds really fun. I’ve never been that artistic.  And you’re working at a company that also includes your love of boats. That’s sounds great! I've never really worked a regular job. I waitressed a lot before I got into bail bonds. But I see that you graduated from BU where I am currently going, so there’s something else we have in common.

I don’t want to talk (write?) your ear off, so I’ll just leave it there.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Emma

“I mean, there isn’t much here, but she seems like she could be a good match for you.” Liam said from behind Killian.

“Bloody hell, Liam!” Killian roared, his heart, which had just been soaring now dropping into his stomach. He quickly shut his laptop and turned to face his scoundrel of a brother.

Liam barked out a laugh when he saw Killian’s flushed cheeks.  It was just like his little brother to fall hard for a woman so fast.

“Were you seriously just reading my personal email over my shoulder?” Killian fumed.

“Well, you stopped talking mid-sentence…” Liam began and then changed tactics, “You kind of spaced out there and you just got this twinkle in your eye and started grinning, so I got curious.  Sorry.” He paused, “Would you like to tell me about the email?”

Killian glanced at his now closed laptop, then back at his older brother who seemed to really have taken a keen interest in the situation. He sighed as he opened up the laptop again.

“Well,” he said, nervously scratching the back of his neck, “there’s this girl.”

EKEKEK

It was 9 o’clock at night and Emma was bored out of her mind. She was sitting across from her skips ex-girlfriend’s apartment hoping beyond hope that she would see him either entering or exiting the building. And it was the beginning of fall, so her yellow bug did not do much to keep out the chill that had started in the air over the past few days as summer waned. 

Normally she would text with Mary Margaret or Ruby while on a stakeout, but Mary Margaret and David were taking a very needed date night, and Ruby had a Facetime date with Dorothy, which basically meant they were having video sex.

“Candy Crush it is.” Emma said pulling out her phone.  She paused briefly to look at the lockscreen photo of Ditie when she had first brought her home.  The picture showed her looking at Emma warily while she inspected the house.  Once Emma had brought the dog bed out, Ditie had decided that this place was okay, had curled up and conked out.

She was about to open her phone when a notification popped up. It was from the Mustlovedogs website.

“Oh, god!” she thought to herself.  “Oh, god! Oh, god! Oh, god!”

He’d written back.

Killian Jones had emailed her back.

She didn’t know why she was so nervous.  She was not a nervous person.  She wouldn’t last two seconds as a bail bonds person if she was nervous about everything.  If there was one thing Emma’s friends could count on with Emma it was that she didn’t get nervous about anything.  And here she was, butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, because of an email from a cute guy online.

A guy that she already really liked.

A guy that she thought sounded perfect for her.

For a girl with no family, a string of bad dates, and no real relationships, she thought this was a miracle. Could she really fall for someone just from a brief synopsis of themselves and their cute dog? What if he had emailed back to say he wasn’t really interested?  It had been a slip of his hand to send back that virtual kiss.

“Ugh!” she screamed, hitting her steering wheel. “You are not some damsel waiting to be saved, just open the damn email!”

She briefly checked up at the apartment building she was watching to make sure there was no movement coming from there before she swiped the email notification to read it.

Emma,

 I was so glad to see your email in my inbox today. I am supposed to be redesigning a website for my company, but I was too distracted hoping that I would hear from the beautiful Emma Swan.  I hope that comes off more dashing rapscallion rather than deplorable.  Some of that pirate charm my profile talked about.

I saw that in both your profile and your email you mentioned that you are going back to school to get your degree plus planning on going to the police academy.  I have to admit, that is a huge turn on.  A girl who knows what she wants and can take care of herself, that is definitely someone I would like to get to know better. My brother and I used to box when were in the Royal Navy (did I mention a brother in my profile? Did I mention I was once in the Navy?), but now we just occasionally spar with one another.

I have had Jolly since she was 7 months old.  I got her after a bad time in my life and she made it infinitely better. Who doesn’t like coming home to dog kisses after a bad day?

Look, I hope this isn’t too brazen, but I’d really like to have your direct email, and maybe your phone number. I don’t really like having to go through the site to contact you and I prefer talking to people in person. So here is my number and email.  I am fervently awaiting your response.

Killian

@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious

[jchb32273]

Fictober 2019 - Day 9

Fanfiction - Dragon Age AO3 Link

Two days behind now... oh well! Have fun today with... 

There Is A Certain Taste To It.

~~~~~

Leliana bounced into our dorm room, her usual perky self. She saw me at my desk looking through a book and rolled her eyes.

“Studying again?” she tittered. “It’s a nice day out today and the roads are finally clear! We could go to the mall, or maybe…” she trailed off when she noticed the book I was flipping through. “A cookbook?”

“A cake cookbook,” I said with a smile.

“Why are you looking at cake recipes? What’s the upcoming occasion?”

“Who says it’s for anything special?” I blushed. “Maybe I just want to learn how to bake!”

“Riiight…” she giggled. “Your blush says it all. It’s for loverboy, isn’t it?!”

I sighed. “His birthday is tomorrow. Twenty-third of Wintersmarch.”

“Oh, I love birthdays! They are so much fun! Are you planning anything else?”

“His bandmates are taking him to a local pub. I just asked Dorian if I could bring a cake. He said yes, and gave me some money to buy one… but then I thought a homemade cake would be much tastier than a store-bought one.”

“What’s Alistair’s poison?” she asked. At my confused look, she clarified. “What flavor cake is his favorite?”

“He likes chocolate. I thought at first I’d make him a cheesecake, but then I thought that was too obvious.” I flipped through the cookbook, showing Leli all of the recipes I had bookmarked. “But there are so many types!”

She placed her finger down on a page that caught her eye. “Ooh, a chocolate whiskey cake… with a whiskey caramel drizzle! That sounds very drool-worthy!” She then plucked the book out of my hand and said, “Let’s head to the supermarket!”

An hour later we were in our dorm’s small kitchenette, located just off the lobby. I had everything spread out and ready.

“Okay, the first step,” I read. “Preheat the oven to 180C.”

Leliana pushed the buttons on the stove, but nothing happened. “Um, Kylara? I think our oven is broken.”

Wynne, our dorm mother walked by just then. “Ah, yes. Sorry girls. It is broken. The repairman can’t come by to fix it until the very end of the month.”

“Now what?”

“Call Cullen,” she suggested. Maybe their dorm’s oven is working.”

After packing everything back up and hoofing over to Cullen’s dorm building, he greeted us outside.

“Your oven is working, yes?” Leli asked again.

Cullen had an interesting look on his face. “Um, yeah… it works. Not sure if you are going to want to use it though.”

“Why not?” I asked as we headed through their lobby. However, he didn’t have to answer. It was made perfectly clear once we saw the condition it was in. Grime, oil, and all sorts of caked-on food and grease were all over.

Cullen looked embarrassed. “Well, we are a bunch of dudes living together!”

“Really?” I said, eyebrows raised. “That is your excuse to not clean?” I sighed as looked at the filth-ridden stove. “I’m surprised this hasn’t caught on fire yet…”

“Or been condemned,” Leliana shook her head.

“Please tell me you have some cleaning supplies?” I asked Cullen.

He opened the cupboard below the sink and to our surprise, it was filled with brand-new, unopened supplies. I even found a scouring brush and rubber work gloves. “Well, let’s get this done!” I exclaimed.

Two hours later, I had the stove, sink, counters, and even their refrigerator cleaned out. Oh, the mess I had to scour out of it… I never wanted to think about ever again! The work had gone fairly smoothly with both Cullen and Leli helping. We had gathered a bit of an audience of boys standing around and watching us clean. When we had finished, there were whistles and applause.

I turned to those standing about and lightly scolded, “Don’t let it get like that again!”

Sadly, no one seemed to care as they all wandered off. I sighed.

“Don’t worry, ‘Lara. I’ll get a few other guys to help me keep it clean from now on. You have my thanks and appreciation, at the very least.” He looked at the sparkling stove and clean countertops. “So, after all of this, what are you making? Looks like cake ingredients?” Then he slapped his forehead. “That’s right! Alistair’s birthday is tomorrow! That is really nice of you to make him a cake. You're going let me help too, I hope!”

The clean oven was now preheating and I was starting to measure out the ingredients. I muttered quietly to myself. “Let’s see… 450 grams of sugar, 450 grams of flour…” Then my phone buzzed. I wiped my hands on my apron and pulled my phone out. It was Alistair.

[15:40] Hey Kylara, love. What are you up to?

        Not much. Just planning a little surprise for tomorrow… 😘 [15:40]

[15:41] Really? What is happening tomorrow?

                                         As if you don’t know, Mr Smarty-Pants. [15:42]

[15:42] Does it involve you in some barely-there lingerie?

                                                                                                        😲 [15:43]

[15:44] Well, I can dream, can’t I? ❤️❤️❤️

                                                                             😨 You are so evil! [15:44]

[15:45] That’s me, Mr Charming 😈

[15:45] So you’ll be there, tomorrow? 7 pm?

                                                         Wouldn’t dream of missing it! [15:46]

                                                       Anyhoo… Let me get back to my task.                                                           Don’t want to mess it up for you! [15:47]

[15:47] Awww! You’re so good to me, sweetheart! 😍

Leliana saw Kylara grinning as she texted on her phone. It has to be Alistair. No one else makes her smile like that! I am so glad they are together… it has done wonders to help boost Kylara’s opinion of herself! Then she stared at the bowl. Wonder where she left off with the ingredients? Hmm, 450 grams of both sugar and flour? She eyed the bowl. That doesn’t look like enough. I better add a bit more… to be safe, of course. Then Leliana’s phone rang. She answered it.

Cullen, meanwhile, was in charge of making the whiskey caramel sauce for the cake. The first and second batches were both burnt and he scowled as he stared at the black goo in the pot. I am a science major! I can follow complex formulas down to the smallest detail! So how come I can’t seem to get this stupid caramel recipe to work?! He stated at his own phone. I suppose if my lab partner would stop texting me with his incessant questions and distracting me… He sighed. Well, guess I start over… again!

I closed the app on my phone and saw Leli was now on her phone. She was supposed to be in charge of the wet ingredients for the cake. In her mixing bowl, I could see the eggs and the buttermilk were there, but not mixed yet. So I quickly started the electric mixer and blended what she had so far. Then I set it down and went back to my bowl, which so far had only the flour and sugar. I added in the cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and the salt and used a fork to stir it all up.

With that done, I saw Leli was still on her phone. I shrugged and headed back to her bowl and added in the oil, vanilla, warm water, and the imitation whiskey flavoring that I had found at the market. As I blended those, I heard my phone chirp again.

Well, we are mostly done now… just need to mix the wet with the dry and then cook the cake. Looks like Cullen is almost done with the caramel… I’ll go ahead and see what he wants now.

[16:09] What are you wearing tomorrow night, sweetie?

Leli ended the call with her girlfriend and then glanced at the counter. Looks like Kylara mixed up my eggs and buttermilk. So where did I leave off? Oh, right. She added the next ingredients and then glanced at the last one. Imitation whiskey? Eww! We don’t want to ruin a cake with that crap. She knelt down and plucked out several sample size bottles of Elijah Craig Barrel Proof Bourbon Whiskey. Hmm, 136 Proof, which means 68% Alcohol. Aw, yes! That will definitely give the cake some kick! And look! Notes of oak, walnuts, caramel, and vanilla! Sounds perfect! After adding a good 120ml of the whiskey to her wet ingredients (more than twice what the recipe called for… because more booze = more fun, yes?), she thought, better give some of this good stuff to Cullen for his caramel sauce too.

Finally, I put my phone away again and approached the counter.

“All set to mix, Leli?”

“Yes! This cake will be so awesome! Your Alibear is going to love it!”

I prepped the greased and floured cake pans, then poured Leli’s wet ingredients over my dry. It was then I noticed the pungent smell of whiskey.

“Uh… Leli? Why do the wet ingredients reek of alcohol?”

“That imitation crud you bought from the supermarket won’t make a decent cake for your boyfriend! So I added the real stuff!” She grinned.

My eyes were watering. “Maker! How much, and what proof?!”

She showed me the small empty bottle. “136 proof! We won’t even have to eat this to get drunk! The fumes alone will- ”

“Tut-tut! The alcohol cooks off! It’ll be fine, Kylara!”

“Well… technically that is true… I suppose if this fails, we might have time to make another.”

I mixed the wet and dry together. At first, I thought there was too much liquid, but once I had finished, it looked to be the normal consistency of cake batter. However, pouring it into the two prepped pans I had soon revealed a problem. I had too much extra batter. “I thought this was to make two round cakes. Why do I have leftover batter?”

“Cullen?” Leli got his attention from his phone, where he’d been texting someone madly. “Any cake pans in your cupboards?”

“Hang on a sec…” He stashed his phone. “Cake pans? I think we have a rectangular one.” He opened and searched. “Here it is!” He handed me the pan.

“So now we have a rectangle and two circle cakes… my won’t this look professional,” I grumbled.

“But it isn’t. That’s the point! It is a homemade cake!” Leli said as she greased and floured the third pan. “It’ll be fine.” At the look on my face, she sighed. “If it bugs you that much, Kylara, we can cut circles from the rectangle. That’ll work, yes?”

I brightened. “You’re right, Leli! Why didn’t I think of that!”

“Because you’re too worried about impressing your loverboy?”

I punched her lightly on the arm. “I suppose so,” I replied jokingly.

After baking, we pulled all three cakes from the oven. As they cooled, the three of us sat around, talking about various things.

We ended up getting four rounds total – the two I had originally prepped, and two more cut from the large rectangle. The leftovers we passed out to the guys in the lobby of Cullen’s dorm. Since none of them spit it out, I took that as a good sign that the cake was fine.

Cullen drizzled his whiskey caramel sauce on top… and it looked fantastic!

After packing (and cleaning) everything up, there was nothing left to do until the party.

“Happy birthday, to our friend Alistaaiirr! Happy birthday, to yooooouuu!”

Alistair blew out the twenty-two candles on his cake and cheers erupted from the crowd of friends at the pub.

“Thank you, guys! This is fantastic!” He then pulled me into his embrace. “The cake looks great, love! You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me… but thank you all the same.” He stole a quick kiss when the others weren’t looking, then out-loud said, “Well? Let’s eat!”

The cake was quickly sliced and then everyone waited while Alistair took the first bite. He chewed, then swallowed, then his eyes began to water. “Whew! That is strong!” he shouted. “There is a certain taste to it…” He paused to think, then exclaimed, “Whiskey! It’s chocolate caramel whiskey cake!”

I took the next bite and almost choked. Leli and Cullen both had poured enough alcohol in the cake and sauce to choke a mule! Even cooked, this is one pungent cake!

“Is it okay, Alistair?” I asked, worried. “Seems certain other people involved might have been a bit heavy-handed with the booze…” I said as I arched an eyebrow at Leliana. She just giggled and shrugged.

He leaned down and murmured in my ear, “It’s the thought that really counts, love. For that, you win some extra special bonus points from me tonight…”

Fenris, after watching the others take a bite or two of the cake and then set it down, finally took his own nibble.

“Hmm… not bad,” he grunted. “Could’ve used more whiskey though.”

Everyone stared at him, then burst out laughing!

[princesssarcastia]

Cassandra Cillian: Hitter

this is titled “you don’t have to be a ghost here amongst the living” because I was going through a F+TM phase when I started writing it.  

remember like, a year and a half ago when I planned out a librarians-leverage fusion (and also a leverage-librarians fusion?) because I do!  And I finished the first bit.  

here’s 3k of not!fic about how Cassandra Cillian starts down the road to being a legend. 

              ________________________________________________________

my first concrete though when I started daydreaming about this was “oh my god Cassandra is the hitter”

no, really

I blame the apple of discord episode. her analysis of force needed to kick ass and take names and initiate a nuclear meltdown makes her perfect.  utterly ruthless, just hiding under a cutesy facade instead of Eliot’s dumb-hick one

with the tumor in her head ticking down, down, down to zero, her self-preservation is pretty low.  not necessarily in a death wish way, not yet.  but when she fights there’s no holding back, and no fear of what the other person can dole out.  what could they possibly do to her that she isn’t already doing to herself?  death looks like Cassandra Cillian staring in the mirror.

I’m willing to negotiate about anything else you find here but this.  in this house we stan Cassandra as the hitter in the leverage fusion au.

all this begs the question, of course: how does sweet cinnamon roll math geek Cassandra Cillian become a mean lean recently reformed killing machine?  and this is where our story begins.

Cassandra Cillian is a teenager who’s just been told she’ll never see the other side of 35.  there’s a tumor sitting in her brain sending her senses haywire, giving her visions that break down every aspect of the world around her to the smallest components.  math isn’t just like breathing, anymore: it’s her heartbeat.  even though its killing her, she can’t help but enjoy it a little. and it’s not just math.  everything around her is worth noticing, studying, learning.  the doctors are calling it hyper-vigilance, like her new fascination with her surroundings is just a way to channel all her rage and grief into something she can control; like since she can't cut her death out of her brain she’s going to make damn sure that nothing else gets to get near her without her consent.

they’re probably right, but she’s not going to admit that. all she knows is that the way her senses are linked to each other and her visions, there’s not a goddamn thing going on around her she doesn’t notice and catalogue immediately.

the next step, of course, is her shitty parents.  when they hear the news it’s like Cassandra’s already dead.  they take away her trophies, all those shiny pieces of proof that she was worth something, that mom and dad were proud of her sometimes, gone.   the pair of them loved their dreams for their daughter more than the person she was, and those dreams had just been crushed.  they pull her out of school, because her visions were “a disruption to the other students”

no one needs the crazy dying chick breaking down in the middle of calculus crying with a nosebleed, apparently.

maybe she could have lived with this.  maybe, in another life, another world, she could have buried all of her hopes and dreams deep inside herself and forgotten about it, until a man and a woman burst into the hospital looking to save her life (oh, the irony). this is not that world.

instead Cassandra gets furious.  

how dare they decide her whole life is over just because this tumor is going to cut it short.  how dare they take away everything they said made her special: her grades, her stem fairs, her college applications. no; no, they don’t get to do this.

so she runs away.  seventeen years old and in the wind.  fine.  if they won’t help her live her life, she’ll do it on her own.

she lands in Boston eventually.  crossing state lines helps confuse jurisdiction over her missing persons case, if her parents even decide to file a police report.  hiding in a larger city decreases her odds of being found, because cities are big places. easy to get lost in, to find a job in, and everyone seems to have a rule about asking questions.

where in Boston, you might ask, does Cassandra end up staying? where does she work?

well, funny story, actually

She ends up working at John McRory’s Place

god this is so long I'm sorry

it turns out mob bars don’t ask too many questions about why a just-18 young woman with no emergency contact needs a job.  Cassandra just gives them her bright, fake smile and says she's applying for classes at the local college and means to pay her own way.  they respect her secrets and her work ethic, and voila! a job busing tables and occasionally manning the bar when the owner has special customers to see to in the back room

her bright red hair and Irish heritage don’t hurt, either

it’s not an Ivy League school, nothing like what she imagined her future would be a year ago, but it’s something, which is more than she’d be getting at home.  all it took was a request for records from her old high school, some placement exams to confirm her genius level intellect, and the college was giving her a spot in their line of incoming freshmen.  

even with merit scholarships, tuition is a bitch to pay for.  it gets worse once she has another attack and needs some of her funds to go to the hospital bills, and the drugs the doctors there prescribe her.

Cassandra expects her boss to kick up a fuss at all that time missed, but he waves her off with a kind smile and says she can take all the time she needs to get back on her feet, because he’s never had someone so smart working for him before (she helps out with the accounts for the bar, sometimes)

one night after she starts back to work, it’s late, and the bar is empty of everyone except the Irish.  they’ve taken over the pub and the territory surrounding it.  Cassandra is cleaning up, closing down the unused tables and being as unnoticeable as she can

because let’s face it, she is not stupid.  by now, she knows exactly what’s going on here.  and maybe before it would have bothered her more, maybe her principles and respect for the rules would have had her out the door.  but she needs this job so she can continue her classes and pay rent on the space above the bar (which she’s getting at a discounted rate), and pay for her pills and the occasional overnight in the hospital.  besides, the owner is kind, even if his friends aren’t quite so nice, and his little girl is adorable.

anyway.  the Irish are here, letting off steam and worried, because their “accountant” just got put in jail.  everyone in the Family is prepared to play patsy, but losing an enforcer is nothing compared to losing the guy who keeps track of their money, their lifeblood.  those people aren't a dime a dozen, and pretty soon the Irish won’t have two nickels to rub together if they don't find someone new fast.

and cassandra just.  pauses.  just for a moment.  glances up to meet old McRory’s eyes behind the bar, just for a minute.  because.... she could do that.  Cassandra started balancing her father’s accounts for him when she was twelve, and they were hardly middle class: the Cillian’s had money in savings, but also tied up in investments and stock, and assets, too.  but that was nothing to her mind.  she could do it in her sleep near the end. hell, she’s been helping John with the bar’s funds for two months now, and not all of their revenue was clean , but she kept her mouth shut then and made the numbers work.

John wasn’t exactly a member of the Family, but he was a, a Friend of the Family.  so when she nods at him, I can do it, I need the money, just give me a chance, he casually picks up a glass to clean and mentions that she’s got a head for numbers, if they’re really that desperate

they are.

they take her to Callaghan, and he might be a little charmed by her bubbly smile and her red hair, but what really gets him is the way it takes her thirty minutes to decipher the codes the old accountant used for the ledgers, balance them out, shift funds between businesses and make sure to account for the statistical probability of amounts of cash-paying customers they can make up for car washes, bars, laundry mats, mattress firms, and movie theaters.  

that’s how she becomes the numbers guy for the Irish mob.  

Cassandra was never going to be Eliot, running away to the military with god in her heart and a flag on her shoulder and becoming disillusioned with doing dirty work for her country.  she needed to get slowly pulled into the criminal underworld.  I figured Irish mob was a good way as any to start, and what better way to pull her into that then math?

she spends some time doing that.  becoming more and more involved.  and she’s cute, like a little puppy, so the others like her.  enough to maybe give her a few self-defense lessons, because this is a dangerous life she’s leading now.

they go...okay??  taking care of her body is one of the first things the doctors recommended to her when she started getting sick, so she’s already in pretty good shape.  It’s just the basics at first; keep your thumb outside your fist, always go for the throat first—Cassandra calculates that three fingers-width above the hollow in a person’s throat would be the best place to strike, because then their voice box gets damaged, too.  

None of the lessons ever go much further than that, because these are brawlers who prefer to use a gun to send a message.  Sometimes the way they move when they show her something tickles the back of her brain, like there’s more to uncover there, but she can’t figure it out until the first time a brawl breaks out in the bar

Two of their patrons start throwing punches right in front of her and suddenly their movements are all angles: she catalogues their weight and height and how drunk they are and how much force they’re putting behind their swings and just…neatly steps out of the way, perfectly avoiding getting elbowed in the face. This…this has never happened before.  But, like everyone always says: there’s math in everything.  Even fighting—especially fighting.

When it looks like the two men are going to start breaking chairs, she hesitates for a moment, but…the knee is a hinge joint.  Thirty pounds of pressure pushing it the wrong way will snap it; twenty-five will seriously damage the attached ligament.  She blinks. Steps up to the closest one.

He’s on the floor before John can make the corner of the bar, screaming his head off, and the other guy is backing away with wide eyes, shocked sober by fear.  Cassandra pulls back, letting her right foot settle behind her and point away from them, and balances on the balls of her feet for a moment.

John gives her a startled look, because she’s never done something like that before. Someone calls the guy’s friends to pull him up off the floor and drive him to the hospital

She grabs a rag to wipe up the mess they made of the counter and thinks.  Because that felt…good.  Really good. Using her hallucinations to dosomething, to affect the real world, gave her a rush of adrenaline and satisfaction.  Not just theory, like in her classes, but real application of the way she sees the world.

Like any good academic, she does her research (in her mind, this is ostensibly still for self-defense—just in case something like that bar fight happens again.  She ignores the giddy little voice in her head talking about how much fun this will be).  Her upper-body strength isn’t great, so something that uses joints and core muscles would be best.  Her size is a disadvantage, too: she can’t afford to go to the ground grappling with someone twice her height and weight.  She’s not looking to compete in a tournament, and she can’t afford to buy any equipment.  The best technique for her will probably be Krav Maga.  (For now, the excited voice in her head whispers)

Her search turns up a little studio on the west side of town that teaches Krav Maga to women for self-defense.  Perfect. The instructor, Miriam Epstein, was a course instructor for the IDF for twenty years before she immigrated to America and got certification from the KMAA.

Cassandra goes to observe a class before she signs up, and the moment she steps through the door her brain is set alight:  everything she sees goes a deep, brilliant hue of scarlet, finding the angles of their feet and arms and their centers of mass based on weight and height; herfoot is seven centimeters too far to the right and that strike would give hermore leverage if she moved three centimeters up from the elbow.  She has to stop for a moment to breathe and process all the information her brain displays in front of her.

That becomes the hardest part: not the constant exhaustion, or the bruises everywhere, or her aching muscles, but the overwhelming flow of information about body movements and the correct place to strike.

She is tired, though; working at the bar takes time, if not mental energy, and her classes take both. Add in balancing the ledgers for Callaghan and now these lessons twice a week, and the exercise she does on her own to keep up, and her schedule is completely full.

The Irish start letting Cassandra layer their funds, obscuring where the extra profits in their businesses came from.  Turns out she’s pretty good at that, too, though it’s not like it’s hard given they own a bank in Boston.  Loans are a great way to integrate funds, and their interest rates are always better than the next three competitors.  She tries not to think about the other differences, how the people she’s working for go to collect that debt.  

Construction is another great way to hide their funds, and from what Cassandra can tell from watching the stock market (which is considerably more than most people) real estate is on the rise.  When she carefully suggests that Callaghan try investing more money in that area, he actually listens to her.  Puts her theories and calculations into practice because he trusts her to be right.  

It feels almost as good as tearing that man’s quadriceps tendon.  Practical applications, she muses.  Sometimes she lets herself wonder how it would feel to take her theories all the way down the rabbit hole

Meanwhile, it only takes her four months to move to P2 in Krav Maga.  The average time spent practicing moves for each level is six months; she’s learning 33% faster than that.  Her muscles are adjusting better than she expected, and her skin stops bruising as easily, but she suspects she’ll always tire quicker than everyone else.

Miriam pulls her aside after class one day and asks why she hesitates so much when they practice moves on each other.  Nothing but the lightest sparring, of course, and nothing dangerous.  But Cassandra can’t turn her brain off, and now that she’s starting to learn the more painful moves, she can’t help but see them every time she stands across from someone.  (thirteen pounds of pressure at 125 degrees from her back to hyperextend her arm; plant your foot six inches from her spine and pull to dislocate her shoulder; 3,300 newtons of pressure delivered at 1.5 seconds would have a 25% chance of cracking her rib and sending a fragment into her lungs.  All this would take less than thirty seconds)

None of this makes it past her lips, but she thinks maybe Miriam can see it in her eyes.  We’re moving on to fighting armed opponents next week, she says, maybe you’ll feel more comfortable with that than basic strikes and take-downs.  She taps the side of her head in farewell and Cassandra tastes copper and sees the spot on her temple where the cranial bone is weakest; a quick jab with the second knuckle of her index finger extended could put her on the ground.  Shaking her head, she dislodges the scarlet diagram and shoves down the curious voice of, but you could do it, you could actually do it.

In another four months she’s at P3, and Callahan is actively seeking out her opinion about investments because she’s been right every time.  

Another four months and she’s almost 20 years old.  She’s almost gotten her degree in mathematics, somehow, even though she can’t qualify as a full-time student.  Part of it is the half-ton of college credit built up during high school, part of it is testing out of a third of their program when they wanted to place her, and the rest is just her ruthless pursuit of academia.  

Her attacks don’t become less frequent, or less powerful, but Cassandra still feels better.  Maybe it’s because she’s actually living her life on her own, even if it isn’t what she thought it would be; even if what she’s doing is wrong.  Because not only is she learning more, but she’s usingit.  She’s using her brain to dothings and affecting the world around her instead of just living in it. No matter what happens, no matter how much she changes in the years to come, she’ll treasure that.

Enter Lamia, stage right

See, Dulaque is Damian Moroe; boogeyman and semi-god of the criminal underworld.  You can’t spend more than six months involved with dirty money without hearing about the man who bankrolls terrorists and buys countries to launder his money through. He’s a legend, untouchable.

Almost as infamous is his right-hand woman, Lamia.  A trained killer with no hint of a past before she showed up as Dulaque’s chief…well, he’s too classy for the word enforcer, and so is she.  But if they were anyone else, that’s what she’d be. As it is, just a whisper of her name will send some grown men running to give up whatever she wants in exchange for safe passage.

And see, Dulaque has caught wind of the irish mob’s sudden financial success and wants to know how it’s happening.  Take advantage of it if it’s luck, invest in it if it’s skill, and perhaps recruit whatever or whoever is responsible into his own enterprise.

Lamia doesn’t always like to trade on her name, though, so she comes to Boston quietly, and investigates how the Irish are doing so well—not just in the American markets anymore

(Callahan called his friends in the old country and told them about the redheaded accountant with a genius-level intellect who could analyze the stock markets to a T; suddenly Cassandra had a whole lot more to balance than a few local business and investments. Suddenly, she’s the lodestone to an entire financial criminal empire that’s only growing.  And that little voice in the back of her head sighs in contentment as her reach extends, her area of effect getting bigger and bigger. Whenever the air in front of her lights up blue and smells like oranges, she smiles a little and hums, because this feels right.  Follow the money and see where it leads, all the way down)

It doesn’t take long before she finds John McRory’s place, where a petite little redhead still waits tables and occasionally mans the bar; locks up more often than not, now, because her place is right upstairs.

There are a couple ways she can do this.  She can go from the top down, approach Callahan and demand to speak with the girl. She can have her brought directly to Dulaque, where he can make an intimidatingly persuasive offer the girl won’t be able to refuse.  Or…

Her eyes are rather striking, in the warm light of the bar.  

After Lamia finds Cassandra Cillian, she spends another week watching her, and the girl is interesting.  Balancing all that money, layering and incorporating it in three different countries and seven different cities, would be too much for any one person.  And yet she seems to slot all that work neatly into her afternoon, after her classes at the local college and before her shift starts at the bar.  What really draws her attention, though, is that little studio she visits twice a week for “defense lessons.”  

Krav Maga is brutal and straightforward, a beautiful Frankenstein of a martial art that takes the easiest parts of a handful of the others and sharpens them into something dangerous.

Lamia sits in on one of the sessions.  The instructor she immediately pegs as former military, that’s a very distinctive stance, but the way the girl holds herself…now that, that’s something to watch out for.

P3 after less than a year of training is impressive, but not unusual enough to matter.  What matters is the way the girl locks her eyes onto the instructor while she demonstrates a move, all cold and calculating; the way her gaze flickers over her sparing partner’s feet, hands, arms, shoulders, hips, like she’s finding every angle and weak spot there is to be found.  

Finally, Lamia smiles as she hesitates just before moving into action.  Oh, that look.  Not fear of her opponent; fear of herself.  And buried beneath it, a bone-deep desire and curiosity. Ah, she thinks.  Gotcha.

Cassandra is smarter than probably everyone Lamia has ever met, so there won’t be any straight-up conning her into what she wants, and that visit to the hospital had been unfortunately enlightening, because threatening probably won’t work either.

Dulaque, she knows, will want the girl’s head for numbers.  And he’ll get it.  But perhaps if Lamia asks very nicely, he’ll let her keep Cassandra to herself for a little bit and show her what she could really be capable of.  A little push, someone to tell her it’s okay to crave that violence, and Lamia can have danger thrumming under her skin right next to those numbers in her brain.

She waits until the class is over, nods to the instructor, and walks up to her.  Cassandra squints at her face for a moment, but it isn’t long before a bright and surprisingly genuine smile breaks out.  “Hi!  You know, you look really familiar.”

Lamia smiles; it’s more of a smirk, really.  Lying is a bad idea, so, “I think you work at that bar I was in the other night.  What was it…”

“McRory’s?”

“Oh, yes, that’s it.  I was kind of surprised to see you here, actually, you don’t really seem the type.”

“Well, knowing how to defend yourself is important!”  God, everything about her is bright and bubbly, isn’t it?  It begs the question how much of that is real, and how much is a front, a persona.

“Anyway.”  Lamia holds out her hand.  “Lamia.”

“Cassandra.”  The girl takes it, and she makes sure to grip her hand warmly.

“Cassandra,” she rubs her thumb over the back of her hand and curls her lips.  When she leans forward, Cassandra does, too.  Neither of them lets go.  “Have a drink with me.” Not a question, not a demand.

Her eyes focus intently on Lamia’s, something like real happiness lingering around her mouth. “Yes.”

And so it goes.

[fastidious-and-a-mess]

Summary/synopsis: after a particularly bad breakup just as college finals have finished, you find yourself getting absolutely shit-faced in a local pub. As is not unusual, some guy, also pretty shit-faced, notices you and the ever predictable, somewhat pitiful, attempt at a hook up proceeds. This time, however, due your current life situations, you decide to just go with it. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You’re never gonna see him again, right? This blonde douche won’t ever come up again, right? Not too much later, you realize that may not have been the safest bet to make.

Author’s note: this is my first fic of real people, and the first I plan on actually finishing, so yeah, don’t have any high expectations. This can be read as Roger Taylor or Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor, thigh I wrote it with Ben in mind. So, enjoy. Hopefully

Warnings: language, excessive drinking, implied sex (not explicit)

_____________________________

“What?! Are you kidding me?!” I scream into the phone. “What the HELL, Peter?! Are you seriously breaking up with me?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but it just isn’t working out,” I hear his voice through the speaker.

“I thought we were fine. I thought we were better than fine. What happened? What changed?” I couldn’t believe this.

Silence. And then, “I met someone else,” his voice was quiet, soft, almost sounding comforting, had it not been for the words coming out of his mouth.

“W-What?” I was now struggling to hold back tears, and my voice had quieted considerably. “Someone else?!” I was no longer quiet, to say the least.

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just-“ he began.

“Save it. How long?” I‘m not in the mood for his bullshit excuses. More silence. “How long?!”

“A few months. Y/N, I’m sorry! I just didn’t, couldn’t feel the same way anymore.”

“Wow. Wow, ok. Well then I guess we’re done here, huh?” I can’t muster very much emotion right now, I’m just too broken by this all.

“Y/N, listen, I’m so-“

“Goodbye Peter,” I‘m really not in the mood for more of his bullshit excuses.

“Wait, Y/-“ I hang up before he can even finish my name. God, I love it when he says my name. Did love it. Loved it. Not anymore. I never want to hear his stupid fucking voice ever again.

With my heart broken, mind scattered, eyes full of yet-to-falls tears, and clock reading 11:24 pm, I figure it‘s an acceptable time for a drink. So I grab a jacket and head out to the local small pub.

There really only is one to go to, not a very large town, mostly college kids. So it doesn’t take me very long to reach it, even just walking. By the time I enter the door, it must be around 10 til midnight. I still haven’t shed a single tear. Maybe I’m broken, who knows?

Anyway, I walk through the entrance into the dark pub. It isn’t really a pub, more like a pub/bar/club combination, but everyone just calls it the Pub. Its dark, dank, the neon signs flickering, trying their best to illuminate the darkness. There are few dim overhead lights that did little to help. A bar to left, a stage to back, a staircase leading up a level on the right, nothing too different or unique. It’s smells just like every other bar/pub, like alcohol, people, adrenaline, and exhaustion, with maybe a hint or cigarettes.

I head on over to the bar, sitting at a stool closer to the mostly empty stage and order “just a beer, please. Any beer.” The bartender nods silently and goes off to grab me my drink. Right now, I just need a distraction.

Just as he hands me a generic bottled beer, the small crowd that’s gathered at the front near the stage starts cheering. A glance to my left shows me the few people who were in the back near the entrance migrating toward to stage. A glance to my right shows me the reason is a band has gotten up on stage; a singer, guitarist, bassist, and drummer; the typical collection. One final glance back in front of me decides it isn’t worth my time to watch or listen to them now, not with how I‘m feeling. So I let me head fall down, every now and again tipping it back to drink from my bottle.

I go through a few more bottles, and as I’m still sitting here drinking, the music from up on stage starts creeping into my ears. It’s actually quite pleasant. So I finish off my... fourth? Fifth? My fifth beer, hop down from my stool, and make my through the throngs of people up to the stage. The music is much louder up close, and I can really hear them now. They sound good. Really good. Great even. The singer has the voice of a rock god, and a smooth angel simultaneously; it’s mesmerizing. The bassist is doing his own thing, hopping around on stage to the beat, seemingly lost in his own world. The guitarist is very physically enthusiastic, often interacting with the singer, both of whom are pretty fun to watch. Most interesting, however, is the drummer in the back. Half concealed by shadows, the drummer has his eyes closed as he rolls through the motions he must have practiced a zillion times before, they seem so natural.

The song ends, they start another, but not before the singer declares “thank you all for coming out tonight darlings, we love you!”

As I’m standing there, in front of the stage, surrounded by other drunk people, the dim lights being the only light in my life, I decide oh what the hell? The band plays their last song of the night, and I let lose completely. With my eyes closed, I give up total control of my limbs and let the music puppet me instead. I’ve had enough heaviness for tonight, I’m just going to entirely let go. My hips swing, my arms flail, my feet bounce around, my head sways, and, if only for a moment, I feel weightless. After what feels like an eternity in just a few seconds, the song ends. I come down from euphoric high off the music, and return to my stool at the bar, ordering another beer.

A few minutes later, from behind I hear a “Hey.”

I turn around, and there’s a blond guy standing back to my left. He’s wearing a mostly open white button down very loosely tucked into some dark pants and some borderline work boots that are really more casual with a leather-like jacket on top of everything. I recognize him as the drummer from the band that was playing. “Hi,” I respond.

“I noticed you dancing in the crowd earlier tonight, you’re very pretty, really let loose. I like that,” he sat down next to me. Now at this point, I’m already piss drunk, and in a very confused mood. On the one hand, Peter fucking cheated on me, but other than that, tonight’s actually been pretty fun. So I have a decision to make; this guy obviously wants to get in my pants, do I let him?

“Why thanks you, I’m not usually that like. Or this. Drunk, I mean. Wow, my words aren’t working,” I blurb out. Man, I’m wasted.

He chuckled a little at me, “I’m Roger, the drummer.”

“I know, I saw you. And what I mean to say was, I’m not usually like that. I don’t usually get this wasted, but tonight’s... special,” my words seemed to be working now, and the last one trailed off a bit.

“Oh really? What’s so special?”

I hesitated. It isn’t really any of his business. But I mean, why not? “My boyfriend’s apparently been cheating on my for the past, psshhh, six? Yeah, six months now. He just told me about an hours ago, over the phone. Said he didn’t love me anymore, didn’t know if he ever really did. So I broke up with him. Well I mean, I said the words. He made it obvious he was done with me. So now here I am. Getting absolutely shit-faced, hoping it helps.”

“Has it?”

“Helped?” I look at him for a moment, then turn back in front of me.

“Yeah.”

“It has. The music especially, gave me a nice euphoric high for a few minutes. You’re really good. You, and the band.”

“Thanks, we try. So are you doing anything tonight? For the rest of it, at least.” Ah, there it is. As always, the “so are you down for a hookup?” question they think you never notice. I don’t exactly have anything to lose, so I make another oh what the hell decision.

“If you play your cards right, maybe,” I respond, turning back to him. A smirk tugs at his lips, he knows he’s been successful.

“Well lucky me then, huh?”

“Like I said, if you play your cards right,” I signal for the bartender and order another beer, probably my last. Roger gets one too, and we have a pretty flirty conversation. He covers all the drinks, probably another play to get into my pants, but I don’t mind.

I’ve heard rumors of Roger Taylor, everyone has. Charming, seductive, suggestive, ladies’ man Roger Taylor. I never really thought he’d actually be a pleasant conversationalist, though. I was wrong. We talk for a while, both getting increasingly more wasted until I can hardly form coherent sentences, much less thoughts.

“Hey,” I slur, “you wanna get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” his words are almost as messy as mine. The bar has started spinning at this point. He takes my hand, entwining our fingers as he pulls me off the bar stool. He leads me to the entrance of the building, pulls me outside, and as soon as the door is closed behind me, I’m pinned to it. He has me trapped, not that I mind, and he pushes his lips into mine. He tastes bitter and smoky, like beer and cigarettes, but it’s almost addictive. I can’t get enough.

He moves down to my neck, and I mumble a “I love a few blocks away.” I can feel him smiling into my skin.

“Good.”

Twenty minutes later, the front door is closed behind us and once again I’m pinned. This time though, it doesn’t last as long, as soon I’m pulling him upstairs while taking his jacket off. He smiles into the kisses again, and we’ve soon reached my bedroom. At this point, he’s lost his jacket and shirt, as well as both shoes and a sock and I’ve lost my jacket, both my shoes, and the jeans I was wearing, leaving me in my top, socks, and underwear. The room is spinning even more, trying to have any understandable thoughts is a lost cause, besides maybe more. So that’s what happens, more. The rest is just a blur.

_____________________________

So that was part 1. Not sure how satisfied I am with the ending but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. You can be expecting a part 2, whether anyone cares or not lol. I enjoyed writing this, it was fun, so if you have any suggestions or ideas or anything, please feel to send them in, I’d love to hear from you! Thanks again.

Part 2

[swiss-cheeze]

Once Upon a Deacon

This is technically meant for school but idrk

Prompt: the reader is telling the story of how her and John first met

Warnings: I really don’t think there is any besides alcohol and Roger trying and failing to pick up the reader

Word count: 2765

Note: this is really cute and fluffy tbh

It was Valentine’s Day, the local pub was decked to the brim with hearts and flowers and pinks and red and-

“I just done see a point in it is all Bri” a voice cut in through the loud booming music, the man, who must have been Bri, rolled his eyes and scoffed, “just pick a girl, ask her out and then take her to the van”

“You know I don’t like doing that, it’s just mean” Bri said; I scoffed as I swirled the beer I had in my hand.

Let me explain, my now ex-boyfriend decided to not be nice and cheat on me the day of this glorious valentines, it wasn’t a sweet kiss to another girl; they were both pinned to a wall when I walked in already half at it, I just walked out and even with the numerous times he tried to call my name I didn’t answer, he did this once before and I didn’t leave him, I won’t let it happen a second time. I let me feet walk me and found myself at the local pub filed with valentine’s flirts and college kids. There was a somewhat local band playing a little later tonight called Smile? Apparently they were trying to find a new name along with the new members they recently got but I didn’t care; I sat down at the bar and ordered just a normal beer, I didn’t want to get drunk because it wouldn’t help me later on in the night at all, never does. So here I was sitting in a dirty bar with some dude trying to pick up the chick next to m- nope. It’s me he’s trying to pick up.

“Hey, do you want another drink?” the guy asked, I didn’t look at him but I could tell he had some sort of bright blonde hair and his tall dark haired friend was already looking annoyed and bored next to him.

“No, I’m good, thanks” I mumbled and took a swig of the drink, if I’m being honest the guy looked a little hurt that I turned him down, like he’s only ever been told yes and never a no.

“Alright how about this; me and Bri here are a part of the band playing tonight, if you like what you see would you care to join us in the after party?” he asked, this time I let my head go back and close my eyes before I turned to the man, finally getting a good look at him. He was kind of small but still had what looked like a good packed body I guess, his hair was down to his shoulders a little and it was a pretty blonde, his eyes looked blue but I couldn’t tell in this lighting. I looked to his friend who stood behind him, he had what seemed to be dark brown hair and was pretty tall with a lean figure, his arms crossed over his chest but it didn’t look like he had too much muscle, his fingers however where rather long and bony, I cocked an eyebrow and looked back to the blonde to his arms, he was the drummer and his friend the guitarist.

“Look blonde Jesus, I get that you’re a drummer and your friend right there is the guitarist but I’m really not interested in getting a hook up on the day of valentines, not my style” was all I said before turning back around to my drink.

“Rog come on she said no, let’s just leave her before she punches you” the guitarist said hitting his friend on the upper arm trying to get him to follow.

“Wait wait wait, how’d ya know I was a drummer?” ‘Rog’ said which made me scoff, “no I mean it” he said.

“Your upper arms are a lot stronger than the rest of your body and your palms are more calloused then your fingers would be if you were a guitarist or bassist, that means you hold onto something pretty tightly, enough for skin to come off. You said you two were a part of the band that’s playing tonight, your friend has calloused fingertips and bony fingers-no offence-“ I got a ‘none taken’ from the bony fingers guy, “and you just recently got a new singer, I’m guessing maybe a bassist seeing as your last bassist-seventh at this point is it?- left and some other guy is now in that place, I like your music and I keep up with the times, I aint that old blondie” I said and swigged the rest of my beer before putting it back on the coaster in front of me.

“H-how…” Rog started.

“I simply observe and apply what I see” was all I said.

“Alright, if you like what you see how ‘bout you THINK of coming with us, if not me, to our van and stay for a little while” Rog said, I smirked.

“Buy me a drink first hot shot” I said I think the alcohol was getting to my head a little more then I first anticipated, Bri let out a laugh and patted his friend on the back.

“I’ll go get the band ready then yeah?” he said before walking off to find the ‘band’, he was quick to be out of eyesight. I clocked a quick look to the clock on the wall behind the bar, ten till ten, that’s when I noticed ‘Rog’ was already getting my drink sorted, I grinned as it was placed in front of me with a large grin on his face.

“My name is Roger, and that was Brian who walked off” Roger said, I nodded and hummed.

“Better go find him then yeah?” I said with a sly smile, Roger was about to say something until-

“WHATCH IT“ someone yelled from behind the stage, a loud crashing noise that sounded exactly like a cymbal came from behind the stage.

“God damn it” Roger muttered under his breath, “that was my drum set, I gotta make sure they didn’t trash anything” he said, I nodded and he was soon off, jogging to his precious drum set through the crowd. I started to drink the rest of what was in my glass and soon went off to the dance floor to try and see the band more clearly. College kids where already on the rise and jumping up and down and yelling with large smiles on their faces but before I could properly look around at the faces of whoever was around me, the new band, Roger and Brian’s band, came onto stage. Roger searched the crowd for me and gave a small smile and wave when we made eye contact, I simply smiled and nodded my head.

“Hello, you may see some new faces here tonight” Brian said into the microphone, “we have our new bass player, John Deacon” John waved and nodded to the crowd; looking at the man you could tell he was a little introverted but when we made eye contact I could help the small but genuine smile slip out, he seemed to do the same, “and our new lead singer!” Brian continued, “Freddie Bul-“ he paused, “Bulsara everyone, Freddie Bulsara” he said fully.

“That’s right” Freddie muttered, loud enough for the mic to pick up.

“And of course you all know Rog” Brian said with a large grin as Roger waved to the crowd; college girls from all around me yelped and nudged at each other, thinking they all had a chance with him.

“Oi!” someone yelled over the crowd, “where’s Tim!?” they yelled, Tim was their vocalist and bassists before Freddie and wayyyyyyy before John, the crowd started to talk and mutter.

“Ready Freddie?” Roger asked Freddie, he gave a nod and soon the band started to play making everyone become silent, I knew the song instantly, it was one of my favourites, but when Freddie bent down to grab a tambourine and started to play with the mic (which started giving feedback to the speakers), the band looked at each other nervously, they didn’t know what he was doing. Freddie must have gotten annoyed at all the staring as he ripped the stand in half-almost taking out John the process-and stared at the crowd a little dumbfounded for a split second before hitting the tambourine on the mic; he seemed to be having a lot of fun with this as he started to sing. Even though the song was one of my favourites the lyrics didn’t sound the same as what they normally would, Freddie was mixing some of the words around, and he got the attention of Brian as he pranced around on stage as Brian let out a small ‘those aren’t the words Fred!’ But Freddie didn’t care and kept singing and prancing about the stage, I liked this guy, he knew what to give and he wanted people to take it whether they liked it or not.

---

It was later in the night and I had taken the offer of coming back to their van after the concert, when I agreed to coming to the van a few other girls got picked by Roger to come along, Brian had driven us to some sort of abandoned road when everyone was inside and settled, not many people-if any at all- had driven on it besides us, so there were lawn chairs scattered all in the grass, everyone had a beer in their hand. Freddie was talking to one of the girls that had tagged along, talking about the concert from what I could hear. Rog was already back inside the van doing who knows what, Brian was also talking with another girl that tagged along; me? I was alone. Almost. Kind of, John walked over from somewhere and crouched down next to me.

“Not drinking too much?” I asked with a little smile, sipping my beer.

“No, I’m the designated driver” he said with a small smile, we both let out a small chuckle, “I’m gonna guess you’re the girl that Roger talked to?” he more asked then said, I nodded.

“Got nothing better to do with my night anyway, so, why not?” I said motioning the van and the people who were outside with us, “Spending valentines with a band and random girls? Sure” I said with a shrug and smile.

“I had completely forgotten it was valentines” John muttered slightly. I smiled.

“Sadly it is”

“Sadly?”

“I caught my now ex-boyfriend cheating on me when I got home earlier today, that’s why I was in the pub, I didn’t want to drown my stupid sorrows but I still wanted to get out of there” I said with a smile, John nodded along and smiled softly.

“I saw you in the crowd when we started playing” he said.

“I saw you almost get knocked out by Freddie when you started playing” I said with a large grin.

“Luckily I didn’t, I could have died!” he said jokingly, we both laughed at that.

“Well if it’s any consultation, I’m glad you didn’t” I said.

“I’m glad I didn’t either, I wouldn’t be able to talk to this pretty girl right in front of me” he said with a bashful smile, I giggled.

“Well thank you John Deacon you don’t do to bad yourself either” I said punching his arm softly, we both chuckled at that.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” John asked, “The band will be staying out here until they all pass out from alcohol or tiredness and I’m the driver so I decide when to leave” he says with a small smile, I nod and start to get up.

“I would love that John” I said with a smile, we soon started walking in a random direction, John didn’t even bother to tell anyone else we were leaving so I just trusted in him as we walked and talked about random things; my favourite colour, his favourite song, favourite article of clothing and just small things, even small stories from earlier in the day.

Time passed by and we had walked a good distance away from the Van, “I think we should be heading back now” I looked at the time, “Christ! We’ve been walking for almost two and a half hours!” I say a little scared, John simply chuckled.

“Let’s start heading back then” he said, we both turned around and started heading in the direction we came in. After an hour of just walking I got fed up and challenged John to a race, he took up the offer and we ran the rest of the way which only took us half an hour before we had the van in our sights once again.

“I WIN” I yelled as I touched the van, my breathing was laboured and we both where puffing with large smiles on our faces.

“Fine fine, you win” John said.

“What’s my prize?” I asked. John shrugged, I smiled and pointed to my cheek, motioning for a kiss on the cheek; John smiled before leaning in and pecking my cheek, we both giggled before looking at the abandoned lawn chairs before starting to pack them away. Everyone else was already passed out inside the van so John started driving as soon as I packed the last chair away and got in the van. As John drove we both talked about more aimless things, laughing and joking together as the road ahead seemed so far away and yet so close.

---

“And that kids!” I clapped my hands together, “is how me John Richard Deacon met and started what is still alive today” I said. I was sitting in a normal school library, the whole place was packed with kids on the floor and sitting at-and on-tables, some standing, sitting on friends laps or whatever they could find, I had been asked to come to different local schools and answer some questions the kids may have had and tell stories I was comfortable with sharing; it had been 13 years since I had met John.

“Miss miss miss!” a kid held his hand up.

“Yes, you with your hand up” I said with a smile, the kid chuckled.

“When did you first meet John?” he asked, I had never in fact told them the year I had met John, I smiled.

“1971” I answer.

“And how old where you both?” another kid asked. I had to think about that one.

“Well let’s see” I paused for a moment, “John was nineteen at the time, the youngest of the group, and I had just turned twenty two months prior” I said with a smile, “John was nineteen and I was twenty” I finally said as a confirmation with a small nod, a few other kids whipped their hands up wanting to ask questions but before they could do anything a loud clapping noise came from one side of the room; it was a teacher.

“Alright kids, Mrs Deacon has to leave now, say goodbye” a teacher said, the kids started to get up groaning, some going as far to say ‘I have no legs miss!’ and some just simply saying ‘but I didn’t even get to ask my question’; some headed straight for the door while most came to me asking some questions to which I did obviously answer.

After another half an hour of answering questions I was finally able to leave, I bid goodbye to the teachers and whoever came near me or greeted me, I walked out of the front gates and was met with a very pleasant surprise; there on the side of the road was a large van, the words ‘Queen’ printed on the side, John Richard Deacon was leaning near the door to the van, arms crossed and one leg on the van, a large smile etched onto his face. I smiled and ran up to him giving him a large hug as he spun me around; we entered the van as John started asking me about the kids and what happened during the time I was there. I told him everything through a wide smile and exaggerated hand movements. Through all my story telling the rest of Queen and whoever else was in the van had greeted me and asked how things had gone before sitting down and listening to the stories I had told the kids or stories of the kids. They all had smiles by the end of it all.

—

I’m so sorry, this looks so shit on my phone but on my laptop it looks fine; I’m so sorry

[cetidswell-author]

Yet Another Break In

The moment he arrived home from the pub Kyle knew something was wrong. The house looked the way it did every other night. It was just another simple, two story suburban home like every other, the kind that looked absolutely divine when driving past but quickly turned into a soul crushing brick trap after a few months of living there. From the day he moved in it had been far too big for him, too empty, but he always stayed. There was plenty tying him to his own personal Hell: his job, his few friends, and the tiny thrill he got when he came home late at night, just ever so slightly drunk, and to find that things were indescribably, undeniably wrong.

Kyle wasn’t a puzzle solver, he never had been, so he allowed himself to go through his night-time routine until the mystery revealed itself. It would eventually, it always did. He walked through the shadow shrouded house. The wide-open living room window let an ice-cold draft rattle through the walls. This was odd for one particular reason: he hadn’t opened it. He never left the window open. He closed it, sighed and sat in his usual chair. A click of the remote summoned a glare of bright light and noise from the television. He didn’t watch it, he just let it numb him.

One hour passed, then two, then three. 2am had reached him and still nothing happened. He sighed again. Perhaps he was mistaken. Maybe he couldn’t handle his booze in his forties the way he could when he in his twenties. He was about to give up and accept that he wasn’t going to see the answer to his mystery. In fact, there likely was no mystery, no tiny thrill of something different. Then at last it came, the sound of a young man clearing his throat. Kyle let out a wordless grumble. Of course, it was him. Why did it always have to be him?

“How long have you been standing there?” Kyle asked without turning around. From the dark back corner of the living room stepped a tall, slender figure. The television throughout a blinding white light that revealed the intruder’s black hair, pale skin, and black trench coat. Anyone who didn’t know better would presume he was an eighteen-year-old going through a severe emo phase. Unfortunately for Kyle, he knew better.

“About four hours. I was kind of hoping you would notice me. I think it would be really funny to see you jump.” The young man explained.

“You say that every time. I’m surprised you still think that’s going to happen.” Mumbled Kyle.

“It might.”

“Why can’t you just knock up the door like a normal person?”

“I did. You weren’t in.” He was never in. It was very inconvenient. “It’s not like I can just stand outside all night. Do you know how suspicious that looks?”

“About as suspicious as pushing a man’s window open I suspect.” Kyle retorted.

“Right…hey listen I need- “

“I know exactly what you need, Jordan.” Kyle interrupted.

“Look I’m really sorry, Kyle, but things are falling really short lately.” Jordan justified.

“I noticed. Things have been ‘falling short’ for about three years now.” Kyle snapped, finally breaking his gaze from the nonsense blur of images on the television.

“Hey, I’m trying here alright.” Jordan shouted. “But it’s hard. Heck, you have no idea how hard it is. Now you made a deal and you have a duty to stick to it.”

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about our ‘deal’. I believe I was supposed to get a little something for it.” Kyle scowled. He rose out of his seat, which he immediately realised did very little in his favour. He was considerably shorter than Jordan. Standing face to face, or face to shoulders, only served to make him feel intimidated.

“You’ll get everything you were promised. I swear to you you’ll get it someday soon.” Jordan replied. He tried to quiet his voice and seem just a little calmer. He achieved the former, not the latter.

“When Jordan? When are you going to keep your end of the bargain? You know when I made this deal I didn’t make it with you, I made it with your daddy.”

“I know.” Jordan grumbled. He’d heard this little speech so many times before he could recite it word for word.

“And since that I’ve had to be here for all of you. Your dad, your brother, that little punk who started hanging around with you all of a sudden. What was his name again?”

“Connor.”

“That was it. Haven’t seen him in a while. What ever happened to that guy?”

“He died.”

“Oh…” said Kyle, suddenly feeling a little guilty. Man, he had treated that guy like trash. To be fair he was trash, completely and utterly, but he didn’t deserve to die. He shook his head and shook away the feeling. He didn’t have time to feel bad, it was distracting him from his anger. “Look the point is you need to give me a timeline to work with. All I’ve been told for the last twenty years is that I’ll get it someday soon. I want to know when, Jordan. When are you going to make me a vampire?”

Jordan went silent, turning his pale face back towards the shadows. He stayed that way for several seconds which dragged their feet as they passed. Kyle waited quietly. He’d patient for so many years, a few seconds more wasn’t going to hurt.

“Next year. 2nd of February.” Jordan answered at last.

“R-really?” Kyle stuttered in surprise.

“Really. That’s your fiftieth birthday isn’t it? I know it’s not exactly the best age to be stuck at forever but at least it’s a nice round number. Besides, it’s not like you’re getting any younger.” Jordan smiled revealing sharp, white fangs.

“I’ll be ageless. I’ll never have to worry about growing old again.” Kyle realised.

“Yeah, this undead miracle will be all yours. Let’s see how long it takes you to regret it.”

“I won’t.” Kyle replied sharply.

“Sure buddy. Now keep your end of the bargain. You’re still under contract until then.” Jordan reminded him.

“Fine, fine. You should really start calling ahead. It’s a really good job I’ve got enough for you isn’t it?” Kyle unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. The collar loosened around his neck revealing his skin. Close to his vein was two red marks that had barely healed from the last time one of the local vamps dropped by for a bite. It seemed extremely irresponsible to have so few donors in this area. Still Kyle hadn’t thought to question that when he signed up.

“I’ll bare that in mind. I’ll try to leave enough for you to work tomorrow but no promises.” Grumbled Jordan.

“Oh, and while we’re making requests I think you should start bringing food when you visit me.” Kyle grinned. “Even the hospitals give people cookies.”

Enjoy this work? Consider buying me a coffee:  ko-fi.com/cetidswell

[e350tb]

Steven Universe: Woomera - Chapter Three

(with thanks to @real-fakedoors for proofreading. READ HER STUFF.)

Three

Every time I thought I'd got it made It seemed the taste was not so sweet

Civic was the cultural and social hub of the city of Canberra.

All things considered, this was not saying much.

Certainly, the twin Sydney and Melbourne Buildings, stately Mediterranean-styled structures on opposite sides of Northbourne Avenue, had a goodly variety of shops and restaurants, and there was the Monaro Mall if you wanted to visit the upmarket David Jones department store. There was the stately Hotel Civic, famed mostly for a protest against its gender-segregated public bar back in ‘65. But it was just too quiet and dull compared to Sydney or Melbourne, and it lacked the country-town charm of a rural centre. People didn't excitedly anticipate going to Civic - they went there because there was absolutely nowhere else.

Well, except perhaps Queanbeyan, but that was a bit of a drive.

O’Reilly’s was an Irish Pub on the corner of the Sydney Building (or so it was claimed - the founder was an American who'd never been to the Emerald Isle in his life, and the dark, shadowy musk felt more like Goulburn than Galway). It was by no means the heart of Civic, but it was cheap, and that was what mattered to its patrons. There were no politicians here, no big-name journalists - just ordinary people.

Lapis sat at the bar, looking at a dog-eared copy of the Canberra Times. It had been printed this morning, which was already starting to feel like an age ago. OPPOSITION BLOCKS SUPPLY, it bellowed.

“No kidding,” muttered Lapis.

She shrugged and turned through the pages, past the editorials and the letters and through the various local news stories, and found herself at the sports pages. She looked again to be sure, and then threw the paper away in disgust. No abandoned car story - the editor hadn't run it. She doubted he'd even looked at it.

She sighed, burying her head in her arms.

“Can I get you anything?” the bartender asked helpfully.

“Can you get me a ticket out of this place?” replied Lapis.

“I can get you a beer,” shrugged the bartender.

Lapis groaned.

“Straight vodka,” she replied, “It’s been that kind of day.”

“Right away, ma'am.”

The bartender walked off to prepare the drink. As he walked along the counter, he passed two young women, both on the short side, in animated discussion.

“Amethyst, you know I can't,” said one, “I've got an essay due the next day and I need that time to study!”

“C’mon, Peridot, this is what student life is all about!” exclaimed Amethyst, “You gotta live a little!”

“By attending a communist rally?”

“Socialist,” Amethyst corrected, “It’s a big tent. And it'll be for a good cause! Trust me, I know a bunch of people there, you'll fit right in!”

“Amethyst…”

“Would you do it for me?” asked Amethyst, grinning sweetly and leaning in on her friend.

Peridot’s face turned red.

“I… uh… sure, okay. But don't do that here, we’re in public,” she warned.

Amethyst sighed and sat back.

“Being in public sucks,” she grunted.

“Well, we’ll be back at the dorm soon,” shrugged Peridot.

Amethyst grinned.

The bartender walked back past them, handing the shot of straight vodka to Lapis. He sat the glass down in front of her, a bit of strain in his expression. He looked like he wanted to say something, maybe, but Lapis wasn't particularly in the mood for chit-chat.

"I know what I'm doing," she grunted, letting her fingers circle the rim of her liquid courage. The man's frown deepened momentarily, but he walked away without any probing questions.

Mission accomplished. Miserably, Lapis raised the shot glass.

“Here's to Melbourne,” she said, “Some day.”

She sighed, draining the small glass in one go and shaking her head.

Not far away, Donald Fryman sat at a table, rubbing his temples. A friend of his, a local lawyer named Marilee Zircon, regarded him with sympathetic eyes.

“I'm sorry, Don,” she said, “There just doesn't seem to be anything we can do about it. The RSL guys just won't hear it.”

“Why not?” demanded Fryman, “They're the Returned and Services League. I'm a returned serviceman! Why can't they let me in?”

“They, uh, they sent me a letter, but I don't think it's…” Zircon began.

“Give it here,” grunted Fryman.

Swallowing, Zircon produced a single sheet of paper from her pocket and handed it to Fryman. He unfolded the sheet and read it out loud.

“Ms. Zircon,” he read, “As Mr. Fryman did not serve in a real war - that's underlined, glad they made that clear - we are not obligated to provide him with membership or support. Furthermore, we believe that the conduct of servicemen in the late war in Vietnam does not correspond with the values of the RSL or the Anzac tradition… where the fuck do they get off on this?”

He threw the letter down in disgust.

“Don…”

“I need some air,” snapped Fryman, climbing to his feet and marching to the door.

The night was brisk - although winter was long over, the Canberra evenings still had their bite. Fryman walked up to his rusty old car and stopped next to it, lighting a cigarette.

“Bad night?”

Fryman looked up. Bill Dewey stood under a street lamp by the bus stop.

“Mhm,” grumbled Fryman, “Bad day. This Senate crap’s turning Parliament House upside down. They've got me guarding Fraser now - twelve ‘till ten, can you believe it?”

He took a drag of his smoke.

“If I wanted to work those hours, I'd have stayed at Nui Dat.”

Both men chuckled, and Fryman took another drag.

“So, what’re you up to?” asked Fryman.

“Waiting for a bus,” replied Dewey.

He leaned forward, looking left and right, and shook his head.

“It never seems to be coming, does it?” he sighed.

“Nah,” said Fryman ruefully, “Typical Canberra buses.”

He took one more drag of his cigarette and dropped it, crushing it under his shoe.

“Well, one more,” he said, “Then I’d better be getting home to Peedee.”

“You have a good night, Don,” Dewey nodded.

Fryman smirked and performed a mock salute.

“You too, Lieutenant Dewey.”

He turned and walked back inside. He was halfway back to Zircon’s table when he felt someone tug on his arm. He turned - an elderly fellow, perhaps sixty years old, was sitting alone at a table. He was gaunt, his dark rimmed eyes magnified by a pair of glasses.

“Couldn’t help but notice you’re getting screwed by the RSL too,” he said raspily, “Same happened to me, you know.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” nodded Fryman.

“Yeah, it’s the way it goes, isn’t it?” grunted the man, “The government calls you to do it’s dirty business then throws you away when it’s done.”

He shook his head.

“They sold our lives at Woomera,” he muttered darkly, “May as well have fuckin’ shot us themselves.”

Across the bar, already fairly drunk, Lapis’ ears perked up. Woomera… Woomera, that was important… Roy Bradley’s car! WOOMERA!

Lapis pursed her lips and nodded to herself. It was time, she decided, to start getting some answers.

She climbed to her feet in determination. Then she swayed, losing her sense of balance, her vision swimming and her head pounding. Bile built up in her throat. For a moment, she glanced back at the counter, and the ten shot glasses that had accumulated in front of her stool suddenly into sharp focus.

As she fell backwards, crashing to the hard, tiled floor, she asked herself if ten shots of straight vodka had really been such a good idea.

Then there was a crash, and all was dark.

There’s a blissfulness about unconsciousness, about neither feeling nor thinking. One can’t really be hurt or punished in such a state - it is a strange sort of zen, bereft of the wonder of dreams or the terror of nightmares.

Usually it’s to define when consciousness returns. The exception to this rule is when it comes back in the form of a pounding, splitting headache. In those cases, it comes back with great and unwelcome fanfare.

Lapis groaned, clutching her head as she took stock of her surroundings. She was back in her apartment - how did she get here? She’d been laid on the couch, a pillow under her head and a blanket over her body. Did she walk home? Get a cab? Fly, even? That perhaps was unlikely, but part of her didn’t want to rule it out.

Still moaning to herself, she sat up. The apartment was a mess, but that wasn’t new - cleaning products were expensive and she wasn’t exactly swimming in money. Among the dusty pile of old newspapers and junk mail on the coffee table, she sighed a clean sheet of a paper, a hastily scrawled note written upon it.

Found you laying outside that Irish Pub at eleven last night and helped you get home. Hope you don’t mind, but I had to go through your pockets to find your keys. - Greg.

Outside? But… but she passed out inside the pub, so…

So they’d picked her up and deposited her on the pavement outside at closing time. Typical. Stay classy, O’Reilly’s.

She picked up the note paper and turned it over in her hand. There was a logo printed on the other side; It’s A Wash! An address underneath revealed that the business was in Acton, and was owned by a Greg Universe. Maybe she’d have to thank him.

She looked at the clock and sighed heavily. It was already evening - she must have slept all day. She’d be in trouble, except she doubted anyone at the Canberra Times had even noticed she hadn’t come in. Sitting back on the couch, she grabbed the remote and turned the television on.

Immediately, she was met with the face of Gough Whitlam, in the middle of an interview with someone at the Australian Broadcasting Corporation - the ABC.

More politics, she thought to herself. It was hard not to get sick of it all.

“...so, must Sir John Kerr accept your advice whatever advice you give-”

“Unquestionably!” Whitlam replied forcefully, before the interviewer had finished his question, “The Governor-General takes the advice of his Prime Minister and from no one else.”

“And must act on that advice?”

“Unquestionably! The Governor-General must act on the advice of his Prime Minister.”

“There is no tolerance here? He must do-”

“None whatever.”

Huh, Lapis thought. Well, this was a slightly interesting development - it seemed Whitlam was making it especially clear that he had no intention of backing down. Still, it all seemed a bit strange and technical. Who cared about the Governor-General anyway? He sat in a mansion and rubber-stamped laws, everybody knew that.

She turned off the TV. It wasn’t worth worrying about.

There was a lot worth worrying about for Pearl.

The press gallery was already going off; she could hear them from the Prime Minister’s offices. She didn’t blame them - the Prime Minister had directly challenged Ellicott’s legal opinion of the previous day, which wouldn’t have been a problem, except for the fact that it could easily be interpreted as a challenge to Sir John Kerr himself.

It made yesterday seem simple by comparison - a spat between Gough Whitlam and Malcolm Fraser, a normal dispute between parties. Now it threatened to become something impossibly larger. They’d called it a constitutional crisis yesterday - now ‘crisis’ seemed too tame a word. The world had turned upside down once again, and it had only just gone five.

It seemed it’d be a late night, so she’d headed down to grab a coffee. She needed caffeine - it was that or insanity, at this stage.

She met Fryman at the cafeteria, intently studying the board, his eyes sunken and weary. Pearl’s heart went out for him - being a security guard was a thankless job, after all. Next to him was one of her counterparts from Malcolm Fraser’s secretarial pool; a tall, lithe, blonde woman, conservatively dressed, her face set into a perpetual frown.

Yellow - for that was what everyone called her - had a reputation for being neurotic and something of a perfectionist. She was often hard to like. Yet under that exterior was a deeply competent woman, and one that Pearl respected...at a distance.

Nevermind the company. She came here with a goal in mind, caffeine, and she was going to see it through. Pearl stepped up beside Yellow and waited for her turn, though she was pleased when the pair included her in their conversation.

“That Briggs man came around today,” she spat, and Pearl raised an eyebrow.

“Martin Briggs?” she asked, “From the American Embassy?”

“Yeah, I saw him heading into Fraser’s office,” nodded Fryman, “What did he want?”

“I don’t know,” replied Yellow, “Something or another; Mr. Fraser was busy so I told him to come back next week. And then he hung around for twenty minutes leering at me. How does someone so uncouth get to be a diplomat?”

“Beats me,” shrugged Fryman.

“Yeah, he was coming onto me yesterday,” said Pearl, “Gough sent him off - told him to come back at six.”

“Well, if he came back, I didn’t see him,” shrugged Fryman, “But I might have left before him.”

They chatted idly for a little longer as the line moved. Eventually, Pearl had her coffee - no sugar or cream, as usual. Yellow turned her nose up at it.

“You’d have it without milk if they let you,” she sniffed.

“I don’t tell you how to have your coffee,” snapped Pearl.

Yellow snorted as she walked off, leaving Pearl and Fryman alone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to…” said Fryman, looking down at Pearl’s mug.

“I’m sure,” replied Pearl, “Certain flavours make me gag. I’ve always been something of a fussy eater, at any rate.”

“Get it from your parents?” asked Fryman.

“I don’t really remember my parents much,” replied Pearl, “Dad was a railwayman, he left my mother shortly after I was born to go to Junee. Then she died of pneumonia when I was about four, so I grew up with my relatives in Queanbeyan…”

“Oh.” Fryman bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Pearl shrugged, “I don’t think about them much, anyway.”

He nodded, covering his mouth as he yawned.

“I’d better get back to my post,” he said, “You have a nice evening, Pearl.”

“You too, Fryman,” nodded Pearl.

She yawned on reflex as the security guard walked away, and gazed morosely into her coffee. Her face was reflected in the cloudy liquid - god, she looked tired.

To think it was only day two.

[mcvfd]

S05E02: Don’t Drink the Water in Baldur’s Gate

Nissa gets drunk. Carlos drinks his own pee. Kanye sees a puppy. Um wonders if asking the gang for help was a mistake.

TL;DR: The gang’s first assignment is to investigate a disease outbreak that the Queen thinks is caused by a deliberate contamination. Um, having already investigated this, quickly helps the gang find evidence that the outbreak is being caused by Taldic Lowery of Fresenius Restoration, who has been stockpiling medicine to cure the disease.

Background:

Long story short, we're no longer wanted criminals! We got pardoned, had a party in the castle, Queen flirted with half of everyone and invites everyone to her room at night

Okay Queen isn't actually flirting with us, she's actually a dragon and has had her eye on us since Master P, had very mom things to say.

She's secretly running things as an effectively immortal being, "steering the ship" for humanity's own good. We've now joined a secret group of problem solvers, not quite special ops. It comes with perks!

We haven't been told who the baddies are exactly - there's an implication that there are other immortal beings who don't like order as much - but the queen's plans are so long term they won't have any impact on our lives anyways

We have some special equipment and a job ready for this session

Bracers/magical items:

Nissa got a sweet ass belt buckle in the shape of a dragon

Carlos got a lighter on a Beastie Boys style chain

Um got a ring

Averlyth got a dangling ear cuff

Kanye got horn-rimmed unassuming hipster eyeglasses

Our first assignment:

The dragon queen suspects that the recent outbreak of eyerot along the Crimmor river is caused by deliberate contamination. Your assignment is to investigate the epidemic, resolve as per code of ethics.

Um remembers relevant info from when he had gone home for therapy after we brutally murdered Burnie Cinders:

Um had discovered there were lots of blind people around, infected by this disease caused eyerot

He had discovered a company, Fresenius Restoration, had started up pop up clinics that only had cures that worked for a couple days

And then later he found the owner - Taldic Lawrey, broke into his house, found records of various properties they owned (including a house not in a major city)

And then he went there and found a bunch of eyebright - either a plant or the name of the potion you make from the plant - and essentially this company is hoarding it

So Um went back with some and distributed it to Baldur's Gate and then got frustrated and then teleported into the future

Jarrod: "I'd like to make a suit of armor that looks like a suit and tie

Scott: "There it is. Good to have you back, Jarrod"

We can use our teleporters to fast-travel to the Baldur's Gate field office whenever we'd like (DM’s note: This is not accurate. You can teleport once to get to your assignment, and once more to get back home when it’s over)

They have resources available for us, e.g. they can figure out a distribution method for the cure, they can hire lawyers

[The group is informed that the intent of the magical item is fast travel and not to game with the possibilities of teleportation]

Jarrod: You know, we could just sell the real cure

Scott: That's right, we think Fresenius is on the right track

Mart: This is what happens when a character misses out on the entire morality arc

Brainstorming

We could profit from selling the real cure

We could take over a pop up clinic and sell the real cure

We still don't know where eyerot is actually coming

The group fast travels first, works with the field office

Nissa asks for records of the infection

They don't have computers but they can send magic crows and gather the info in a few hour

Carlos proposes having Averlyth check out the water until the water isn't that fucked up

Averlyth proposes infiltrating the pop up clinics and replacing the temporary cures with the permanent one

Um regretfully informs Averlyth that the temporary cure is actually just healing from clerics, not a medicine

Carlos proposes having a concert to dose everyone with the permanent cure, with the Cure playing

Kanye immediately proposes breaking the game mechanic of teleportation to have Averlyth doing both healing and the searching

The group decides to head down to the river.

Averlyth uses some kind of detect magic to look at the contamination - there's all sorts of gross things in there, but there's something that's definitely poison, although very faint

We wander up river for a couple of hours, leaving the bounds of the city hiking through the field. The traces of contamination don't seem to be changing in intensity, pointing to a possible source much further up river. Seems to confirm that it's not natural.

A magical raven shows up that can talk, but chooses not to (Kanye: The raven peers at you in disdain). Nissa takes the scroll and thanks the bird, he sorta rolls his eye and leaves

The scroll tells us that the initial research is that the outbreak has been happening up and down the river and that the outbreak was stronger but less numerous upstream.

They were able to discover there were no outbreaks above the city of Elturel.

Nissa verifies with the DM that we can't just teleport to any field office that we want to

Kanye verifies with the DM that we didn't all just get free far-speech from the magical bracer

DM: I'm going to write a book called don't play D&D with engineers

Carlos verifies with the DM that a permanent cure does not make you immune to further infections

DM: I mean, if you get penicillin after the clap, you can still get the clap, right?

Steve: ....why are you asking me?

Um reads off a possibly stolen scroll, reciting the background of eyerot and eyebright for the group in a dry doctor's voice

Averlyth: So from now on, for the couple days trip, no one drink anything until I purify it

Nissa: What if we bring a keg?

Averlyth: I'm just offering my purification services, you don't have to take them

Carlos: Got it, I'll just drink my own pee

The group has learned that Kanye might have PTSD from Gorevan reanimating fish on the boat during the original trip away from Mulmaster

Nissa questions how the group is supposed to expense the wagon

Kanye questions the per diem

DM clarifies there is no per diem or reimbursement, we're paid via access to stuff and loot

Averlyth: Do they have a limo-sized wagon?

DM: They do now. There's a dude out back frantically nailing together three wagons

Um: And three horses

The group acquires a stretched horse cart and several kegs of the finest quality ale and no fish

The group decides to stop by the warehouse, Fort Morninglord, (couple days trip) before heading up river to the city that may be the source of the poison. The plan is for Um to steal some of the cure (again) overnight before we make our way up towards dangerous waters.

Nothing has changed since Um's last visit. He waits until there's a gap in the patrol, then makes his way in. He sees a large stockpile of what must be thousands of doses of cure, a whole assembly line for making potions and drying racks of the herb.

He loads up his bag of 30 doses (10 full cures) and gets out without being noticed in like 15 minutes, group has barely sat down.

The group continues to the village of Elturel. There's couple of taverns, some inns, a church - it's more like a stop on the road rather than a trading hub.

Averlyth goes to the river bank to detect the magic again - the poison is diluted still, but definitely stronger here. It stops just up river of the village.

Kanye: All right! Let's kill the mayor

Kanye thinks he's drunk holy water and there's a very strong placebo effect

Nissa pores over the research, noting that there was a spike in the infections every few days for a couple of months now, and the last one was under a week ago

It doesn't seem like there are any obvious tracks around the river

The group splits up in the village!

Carlos goes to the LO-LYF Pub

Carlos pretends to represent a chemical company trying to figure out how to dump shit

Everyone knows he's bullshitting, but it's just how these people talk, they get how it works. Doug the Thug (tattooed on his knuckles) with a weird ear and a scar over his eye talks to Carlos. Doug P Thug. Douglas Penelope Thug. Of the New Hampshire thugs.

Carlos is able to find out that a bunch of local guys have been taking work at a dilapidated fort a couple days down the road, mostly ferrying chemical and drugs of some sort (no body really knows what) to and from various cities

Carlos questions how the jobs are happening, Doug says it's mostly a word of mouth kind of thing. One of the guys was working for a buddy of his, just keeps going on and on.

Carlos offers a pomegranate pipe for more info on how to get this job

Doug reveals there's a crew of guys heading out in the morning for the fort, and that if you meet them on the road at sun-up, you could probably just tag along with them.

Carlos pays the dude's tab.

Doug: "Take her sleazy"

Nissa goes to the High-life wine & dispensary (across the street)

The people have no idea what's going on

The weed is very good

Nissa gets extra weed for Carlos

Averlyth goes to the church (not a church of Bane) and unceremoniously performs some blood sacrifice and possibly graffiti

Averlyth gets kicked out, but she didn't try to talk to anyone anyways so whatever

Averlyth looks around for a pop-up clinic to see if she can help and possibly get info

There are no pop-up clinics in town since it's too small, but the doctor lets her know that he's been referring people to the next town over

Um lurks quietly at the Lo-Lyf

Saw Carlos working the room

Continues lurking and listening

Kanye is posted at the river

Kanye keeps a very active eye on people coming and going

Kanye doesn't seem any nefarious types carrying a biohazard oil can or any trench coats (although it is 2 in the afternoon)

Kanye: Maybe they're just trying to figure out the permanent cure and they need help, they've been using the warehouse to try and figure it out

Averlyth: They're also just poisoning people

Kanye: You're right we should just kill them all

Carlos and Kanye decide to go for the job

the others will go on the party wagon and try to stealthily trail behind them by half a day or so

We may not actually be that stealthy, there's sorta glass rolling around on the floors and things

Carlos spots the guy nominally in charge of these dudes, there's like 4 or 5 of them. He gives them a super complicated handshake. Guy goes "who's your friend?"

Kanye keeps trying to raise his shield of pedigree and Carlos keeps pushing it back down

Carlos's rental horse is Hyundae Alantra

Kanye has a rental miniature giant horse (it's just a pony but it's fucking ripped)

We're not sure if there's a real horse or if it's just a cardboard box cutout of a horse

Woodhouse is making clopping noises with coconuts

Carlos and Kanye ride up to the front gate of the fort in the morning. They're welcomed in, recognized as friends of Doug the Thug.

Nissa, Averlyth and Um are aways down the road. Um knows of a clearing up on a bluff with a view down on the fort, so we park the wagon and sober up.

"Professor" Proctor comes out of the fort. There's a squad of maybe 12 guys (the group that came in is like 5 or 6 dudes, plus some dudes that were already in the fort or came up this morning). It becomes clear that they have these freelance jobs on a regular basis - some of these guys look like they've been here bunch of times.

Proctor rattles off some instructions, for shipments, notes that there's a secret mission. Carlos volunteers for it, Doug the Thug says Carlos is a cool dude, Proctor says both Carlos and Kanye go with him, everyone else goes out and makes their delivers to Fresnius.

Not Fresno, a neighborhood in Neverwinter

Nissa has sobered up and was watching the guard rotation and stuff; she's guessing there's maybe about 15 guards in the place, not counting the thugs that just rolled in for assignments. A guard in the tower, guards patrolling the perimeter, etc, guards likely sleeping in the barracks.

Carlos and Kanye are led into Warehouse #1 - on one side of the warehouse is an enormous stack of padded crates containing cures (some of the guys are taking them and loading them onto horse carts). Near the middle of the warehouse there's sort of an assembly line production going on where dudes who are obviously junior alchemists are processing the herb and bottling it up, etc. There are drying racks, etc. Everything Um told us already

The alchemist takes the two of them to the far side where there is a smaller lab, which seems to contain about a gallon of a sickly green fluid in a receptacle hooked up to an apparatus. He takes it off, stoppers it and hands the two of them a letter and the gallon of sickly green fluid. The letter has a set of instructions telling them to bring the gallon all the way back to Elturel and depositing it at a very specific time for maximum potency.

On the way out of the fort, Carlos is looking around for any opportunities to place traps or leave backdoors open. Before he knows what's going on, Kanye has shoved the jug of poison into Carlos's arms and made a running start for Warehouse #2.

He makes it to the doors and slams straight into the sliding barn doors

The three start heading down the hill as soon as they see a large figure barreling towards the warehouse

Carlos pretends he doesn't know him and keeps walking

Kanye doesn't knock himself out but he is knocked flat on his ass for a second

Carlos (yelling to the closest guard): "It's okay, he thought he saw a puppy"

The guards don't know what to make of it because 1) It doesn't look like an attack, and 2) He hurt himself in the process

Kanye starts yelling about puppies

Carlos asks if there are puppies in the warehouses

The guard says he should leave

Carlos and Kanye communicate through fartie talkies that they're okay - Averlyth, Nissa and Um head back up to the wagon, and then the group reconvenes.

Averlyth is able to confirm that the poison is the concentrated shit that was seen in the river.

Significant group brainstorming

Plans to contact the authorities to arrest Taldic Lawrey

Carlos and Kanye will go confront TL

Nissa, Averlyth and Um will stand by at the fort

If he confesses to the poisoning plan, let the drake guard take it from there. Then, Nissa, Averlyth and Um can attack the fort, going for the cures and the alchemists at the same time (no chance for them to escape)

If he doesn't confess, then follow him to the house

If it turns out he's not the big bad........... will figure out then

Carlos: Yeah, and then we'll just call off the sting by farting into the fartie talkies

Averlyth: You realize that the fartie talkie does the farting, not us?

Carlos: Ohhhh I've been using it wrong this whole time

[louisonurmark]

I really didn’t know what to think about going to Georgia in the beginning but honestly this country absolutely blew my mind. It was literally something that I was waiting to discover. You have this dream about going somewhere and you just think “Yes that’s the perfect place to be”.

It’s like the perfect match and everything you do just amazes you even more. “What’s so magical about it?” you’re probably asking right now. It’s a mix of everything I reckon. The warm-hearted people, the stunning countryside, Tbilisi’s nightlife, maybe something else… It’s hard to describe but I guess it’s the mix of everything.

Technically Georgia is located in Eurasia, but its own people describe it in a very lovely way, it’s the balcony of Europe. Yes I think that is true. Balconies are usually my favorite part of an apartment and I fully agree. I arrived with very little expectation but Georgia took me on a journey, taught me how to appreciate nature and showed me what influence people can have on your soul.

A journey into humanity and kindness. A gem between Europe and Asia and a place you will not regret visiting. This is all based on my personal experience and to date if someone asks me this very, very difficult question about the best country I have ever visited, well…. my answer hasn’t changed in years and I still say it is Georgia, the country that has left a massive impact on my life as a traveller.

no.1 – The nature of Georgia… no words can describe it…

…and I can’t do it either you have to find out by yourself!

I have to say that I was pretty amazed when I saw the Caucasian Mountains for the first time. It was an early morning on a bus between Batumi and Tblisi… I woke up and wiped my eyes because I couldn’t really believe what I was just seeing there at the horizon. It was a beautiful Friday morning, no clouds, no noise. Just the sun, myself and the mountains.

It doesn’t matter where you go but Georgia’s nature will keep you speechless. One specific region I will not forget is the Tusheti National Park, a northern slope of the Caucasian Mountains and it kinda reminded me of Scotland, just more beautiful and amazing. It’s hard to believe that such a magical place like this is nearly untouched and with no tourists. I think I want to keep it that way and won’t tell you more about it, look at the photos and tell me what you think…

Also the highest peak of Europe can be found here, the Mount Elbrus which rises to a height of 5,642 metres. To sum it up there are more than seven five-thousanders in the greater Caucasian Mountain range. Once in Georgia you should really consider a trip into the mountains. They can be easily reached from Tbilisi and are usually just a few hours drive away. It is a once in a life time experience, don’t miss out on it!

no.2 – The people of Georgia will conquer your heart…

…within seconds and they will treat you like family!

What I experienced in Tbilisi will always remain as one of the greatest human interactions I have ever experienced. It was warm hearted and so touching that I couldn’t believe that strangers who I’d just met can give so much to each other. Mankind can create such respect and love for each other and the bond between people can change the world.

My Couchsurfing host Ninchoo, her friend and my German friend Michael went out for a few beers at a pub in Tbilisi. In the corner were a few guys from the National Choir of Georgia. The boys had already had a few beers and started to sing very loudly, it seemed to be normal because they didn’t catch my attention. They stopped and everyone applauded. I took the oppurturnity with my friend Michael and we started to sing a German song, I can’t remember what it was but everyone suddenly became silent. Everyone was fixated on us but we kept singing…

After we finished everyone in the pub started to shout and to cheer, suddenly everyone started to sing, from the Beatles, to our national anthem and some Georgian folklore songs. It was magical and the boys started to dedicate songs to us and we to them. We hugged, we respected and enjoyed each other presence. It didn’t matter what a horrible singer I was, but I guess it was the gesture that mattered. Music is just not a language but also a way of life…

He might look a bit grumpy but he was a super nice fella!

no.3 – The little local markets…

…with yummy, yummy vegetables and fruits!

You’ll find them everywhere. Colourful vegetables, fruits, meat, bread… anything and everything you could wish for. Very traditional and even if you don’t wanna buy anything you have to visit the markets. It’s a place with no price tags and you always have to negotiate the price with very interesting and sometimes very grumpy old ladies who obviously don’t speak a single word of English.

It’s fun to stroll around these markets and to check out all the things you’ll never find from your local Walmart, Tesco or Woolworths. You can’t really find such cool individual markets anymore and this is what I loved so much about Tbilisi, it’s just unique and very special. All the vegetables are of course Georgian grown and super fresh…

Should I admit that I don’t eat much vegetables?! Better not…

no.4 – Tbilisi is one of the most unique capitals I know…

…and I have been to more than 60!

Why is that? Probably because Georgia is surrounded by so many different cultures and therefore got all the good qualities from each neighbor. Russia in the north, Turkey in the West, Armenia and Iran in the South and Azerbaijan in the East. It’s a great mix and you can see a lot of those attributes everywhere around Tbilisi.

But I guess it was once again the people I enjoyed the most. I was always treated very nicely and people would always try to help me. You won’t find many western chains such McDonalds or Burger King and the whole city is kept in a very traditional way. Little markets here and there, a few Soviet leftovers and a touch of modern architecture. Tbilisi is changing and is trying to find its very own style.

The nightlife is great, and you will see a lot of young people everywhere. The country itself is very religious and there is a huge respect for the church but it doesn’t affect the everyday life of the people like other countries such as Iran for example. There is a new generation taking over, the ones who hadn’t experienced the time of Soviet “occupation”. It is a new modern city that is slowly opening itself up to the world.

no.5 – The little streets of Tbilisi…

…makes you forget about Paris or Venice!

That was something I noticed when I walked through Tbilisi for the first time. Cute little alleys and streets all over the city. It definitely has its charm and you could almost say Tbilisi is the Paris of Eurasia.

It’s probably not written in any Lonely Planet and I doubt there is even one for Georgia but this is something you must do. Take your time and go for a little stroll. You will love it. Make sure you take your camera with you for a few snaps!

no.6 – The beer is good and cheap, so is the food…

…and you won’t stop drinking or eating, I promise!

If there is something that makes me love or not love a country, it is of course the price of the beer. If it’s cheap, I stay. If it’s cheap and good I will probably settle there…hehe. In a normal trendy downtown bar you will get a pint for just two dollars and you’ll love it. Georgian beer is as pure as it can be and it is really delicious. Just imagine you can get drunk for just 10 dollars. “Gaumajus” – that’s how you say cheers in Georgia!

The cuisine in Georgia is very unique, with both European and Middle Eastern influences. The national dish is called Khinkali, and it pretty much reminded me of Chinese dumplings.

This mouth watering dish is really something you can’t get around here. It’s usually filled with spiced meat such as pork, beef or sometimes lamb. Now the interesting part, with your first bite you also have to suck the juice out of it, in order to prevent the dumpling from bursting. That’s how you do it! Enjoy your meal!

no.7 – You have to visit Kazbegi…

..because it will blow your mind!

You are probably asking yourself what is so special about it. I mean in every village in Europe you have at least two churches… I’m going to tell you why. You find them at the most bizarre places where you won’t find anything but sheep and mountains.

There was one church in particular that caught my attention, the Gergeti Trinity Church. It’s a very famous landmark in Georgia. It’s located next to Mount Kazbegi at 2170 meters above sea level. I couldn’t have thought of a better location for a church…

It is very difficult to reach the church though, either you have to go for a very steep hike, which will take you about three hours or you can get a Jeep and drive along the mountain trail, what is probably the better option if you are not into hiking that much…

This is like Scotland but a 100 times more amazing…isn’t it?!

no.8 – Batumi and the stunning Black Sea Coast…

…are probably something you were looking for!

I must admit that I have seen nicer beaches and I do prefer sand instead of stones but Batumi and the Black Sea Coast has its charm. I guess it’s the combination of the mountains and the sea just so close to each other. You can go skiing and two hours later you can lay at the beach and work on your tan. Perhaps I should learn how to ski then but I guess that’s a different issue hehe…

Batumi has a subtropical climate and the weather is really nice, also in the winter. The city itself has a few architectural highlights. An upside down White House for example or the lighthouse of Alexandria, doesn’t that sound fun? It’s the new Cote D’Azur of Europe. A few fancy hotels, a nice beach walk and many colourful lights all over the city. A lot of young people come here to spend some nice times at the sea. The most come to relax or just to socialise. There are also a lot of good parties at the beach, don’t miss out on them…

What to see in Georgia?

…a few recommendations I strongly suggest!

Mtskheta

It is the oldest city in Georgia and part of the UNESCO World Heritage list. It is located 20 kilometers north of Tbilisi and definitely worth a visit.

Kutaisi

The former capital of Georgia, its second largest city and the home of the goverment.

Svaneti

A region in north-west Georgia known for its architectural treasures and picturesque landscapes. It’s also part of the UNESCO World Heritage list.

The Great Caucasus

The highest mountain range in Europe stretching 1200 km from the Black to the Caspian Sea. Also Europe’s highest peak the Mount Elbrus is located in the Caucasian Mountains.

Ushguli

A tiny village located on 2200 meters above sea level and therefore the highest village in Europe. It’s also known for its typical Svanetian protection towers.

Borjomi-Kharagauli National Park

One of the largest and probably most stunning national parks in Europe.

Bagrati Cathedral

Yes another highlight on the UNESCO World Heritage list and a masterpiece in the history of modern and medieval Georgian architecture. It is located in the city of Kutaisi.

Gelati Monastery

The monastery for a long time was one of the main cultural and intellectual centers in Georgia and to date one of the most visited sights in the country.

Things to do in Tbilisi?

…a few things you shouldn’t miss out on, especially the beer!

How to get to Tbilisi

As a Frequent Flier, I usually book my trips on JustFly (cheapest fares) or CheapOair (great Business Class deals). Check it out!

I put together a whole article with my best Business Travel Hacks and Trips. Including how to get cheap lounge access, affordable airport pick ups or how to find the best seat on your next flight, check it out!

Holy Trinity Cathedral of Tbilisi

Commonly known as Sameba you can see the church from almost everywhere in the city. It’s a brand new church, only completed in 2004 and the third tallest Eastern Orthodox church in the world.

Narikala

A big fortress overlooking Tbilisi and the Kura river. It’s a great place to visit where you can also enjoy a great view. It kinda reminded me of the castle in Budapest.

Metekhi

One of the oldest neighbourhoods of the town. It’s located on a elevated cliff with a little chapel on top. Another great spot, especially in the evening when the sun is about to set or if you wanna kiss your girlfriend for the first time…

Turtle Lake

Grab a mate, a few cold beers and hire a paddleboat on a sunny afternoon. The lake is nicely located and you get to enjoy a chilled relaxed atmosphere there. If you find a turtle I’ll buy you a beer!

Mtatsminda Amusement Park

The park is located just next to the TV tower and you’ll love it. It’s super cheap and full of great rides. You won’t get bored, I promise! Honestly, it’s one of the better parks.

The Old City

Of course you should take a stroll through the city and visit the major places such the Georgian State Museum, the Presidential Palace, Freedom Square and simply walk and explore the local markets. If you are a Rugby Union or football fan check out the Dinamo Arena for a match.

Nightlife in Tbilisi

This is a great guide for clubs and bars in Georgia’s capital. I really loved the Irish pub, it’s called Dublin I guess but it was really awesome and I met awesome people there.

The perfect food guide for Tbilisi

This is a list of great restaurants and bars featured by the Lonely Planet, go through it and perhaps you find something that will suit you.

…get your backpack ready and visit Georgia!

Have you ever been to Georgia or are you planning to go there one day? Please let me know and leave a comment in the section below. I’d love to hear about experiences you’ve made in this amazing place, thank you so much for reading!

8 reasons to travel to Georgia and Tbilisi I really didn't know what to think about going to Georgia in the beginning but honestly this country absolutely blew my mind.

[keepherkingsjane]

I’ve been thinking about this comic a lot lately. For the first time I publicly share it and vague statements about an abuser within my academic community.

I was in London at a speaking event. Afterwards everyone moved to a pub. I was new and trying to make friends and it was my first time out at a pub and I kept up with the rounds but then I was very drunk and had missed the last train home. A friend, I thought, someone within my academic community and who I knew from Twitter lived nearby and he said I could crash on his couch if I wanted. I took him up on the offer. I don’t remember getting there. I do remember walking into his flat and it feeling like it was all one big, dark hallway. What I remember next is realizing we were having sex. I remember asking myself, what is happening? how did this happen? I don’t remember anything in between arriving and coming to. I don’t know if he took off my trousers or if I took them off and collapsed into bed. I wear dresses 99% of the time and find trousers to be uncomfortable and I could see myself removing them in one quick move before collapsing onto a bed. I’ve done this other times. Mostly when alone. But once with someone. He didn’t touch me. Did I imply to this person I wanted to have sex with him? By taking off trousers to sleep? I had a crush on him. The way I have a crush on nearly any remotely attractive scientist who is within 10 years of my age. But at this point, at 23, I had never slept with someone the night I had met them. The fastest I ever slept with someone was 5 days - the guy I met on the plane from Pisa to London, who I got into a relationship with 14 hours later, who was already convinced he was in love with me, and he flew back to Italy to see me again 5 days later. That’s who I am. I had only had drunk sex twice during the college. The first was with someone I already was dating, already had sex with. He thew frequent parties. It wasn’t a hookup. Then there were times that Alex made us margaritas and we fumbled in bed together, but it was that drunk where you feel softer and giggle and you are so aware. There was almost a time between these two men. A boy in my art history class who liked me. We were working on a project together and I was craving breakfast, so we made breakfast and drank and I kissed him and before we had sex I asked him to stop, and he did. He left me in his bed and slept on the couch. I’m grateful for his kindness and decency. But this isn’t what happened in London. I’m not sure if I flirted. I’m not sure if I said yes or no. Maybe I said nothing. What I do know is I had never been that drunk before or been that drunk since. I couldn’t legally consent. This small part of me wonders if it was all just alcohol. I accepted an offer from someone I thought was trustworthy to crash on their couch instead of pay for an expensive cab ride across the city. The next morning when I left I saw that there was no couch in that flat. Not one. Nowhere. Many flats in London have their living rooms converted to bedrooms. There was never a couch. I was never meant to sleep on a couch. He offered a lie.

It has taken me a couple years to process it. At the time I convinced myself that I was just drunk, I must have said yes. I went home hungover for the very first time, showered, went to school, and accepted his LinkedIn request that came later that week. I later found out he had a girlfriend. He flew to Argentina the afternoon after with her to a conference, with scratches from my fingernails on his back. I haven’t scratched up a back since the first person I had sex with. We were 16 and fumbling around to do things right and I was being performative. I thought that is what you did when you were having exciting sex. I’ve learned a lot since. I’ve dug nails slightly into backs, I’ve left a scratch or two, but not dozens. The morning after he had dozens. I drew blood even. I don’t remember that. Was I just that drunk that I regressed to some very heavy, performative fucking? Or was I trying to hurt him to get off me? I don’t remember. I’ve never had that large of gap of no memory.

What I hate myself most for is what I did afterwards, how I interacted with him. How I flirted with him at the next event, because I wanted it to be OK. I wanted to have wanted it. Girls don’t flirt with their rapists. Over the years I kept him within my professional network. We spoke on Twitter. I saw him at conferences. I interviewed him for my MSc dissertation and his interview formed a very crucial part of my thesis. I once asked him to participate on a project. People don’t collaborate with their rapists. He was cruel and nice to me during all these times. He is a popular person in my academic community. I knew if I created a problem for him, it would have a ripple effect. So, when he was cruel to me, when he yelled at me over my feedback and ideas, I just froze and cried and tried to hide. I said thank you softlywhen he messaged me to inform me months that he had chlamydia. I went to the doctor, got tested, and was negative. They still gave me antibiotics that affected me so greatly I passed out within 30 minutes. It is only now that I’m trying to remember if he used a condom but I have no memory to tell. But what I hate about myself the most is I slept with him again months later. As if I could undo it. I wanted it to be OK. I want to vomit every time I think about it now.

I never told anyone about that night until almost two years later when a female colleague, a friend I deeply trust and had known for years and had offered my Very Real and comfy couch to crash on during a local conference, was talking to me in my new Texas home. I told her about the project, with him and 4 others, that failed to get selected. She told me things she had heard over the years about him. Varying degrees of harassment and abuse. And for the first time, I told someone. I’ve had a few similar conversations with other women since. They reported various types of abuse. The inappropriate statements he made. I slowly started to think I didn’t do something wrong that night. I watched in awe when two of his ex-girlfriends publicly called him out for his mentally abusive behavior, his cruelty and gaslighting, and watched it not matter when he publicly dismissed them. I watched him still get accepted to speak at conferences. I watch him get scholarships and awards I had applied to and didn’t get. I dealt with him bringing up sex with me to a colleague at a conference. I am a loud person. I yell and argue and don’t back down. But he makes me feel small. I am quiet around him. And I hate it.

This year I was on a scholarship committee for a conference. His name was there. He was the highest rated applicant. I asked if we could make comments on applicants, particularly because some that are not high rated could benefit greatly from attending and I wanted to highlight that. And I wanted to comment on him. So, I did. I said it would be my strong recommendation to not provide him a scholarship because there have been numerous reports on abusive behavior from him to members of the community. I’m not sure if he was given it or not. A few days ago someone suggested him as a speaker for a webinar. I responded simply it would be my strong recommendation not to have him speak. Someone followed up for details. I said first that the webinar is for this field and he is adjacent and we should be giving speaking opportunities to the early career folks in our exact field, but then also shared his abuse. It made me feel sick. It affected the rest of my day and I kept crying. She agreed with the decision. He won’t be speaking. She didn’t know. I thought it would make me feel powerful to have some control, to prevent him from having more power. It doesn’t. I feel sick and scared every time I do it. But I want so desperately to prevent other women he could harm or has harmed from seeing him further succeed, to having to encounter him at another conference he is speaking at or was given a scholarship to attend.

A couple weeks ago a good collaborator and friend was visiting. He was crashing on my couch while we were both attending a conference that was nearby to my. I’ve known him for years. He has hosted me before. He has given me a couch to sleep on for a week when I was kicked out of my first London apartment. He has arranged a guest room for me when I came to London for graduation and he was living in a communal living situation for tech folks. He is kind and trustworthy and I am so thankful to know him. I didn’t mean to tell him. We were driving home and somehow that night got brought up, specifically the speakers we were there for, and then I let my story slip out. I was offered a couch. There was no couch. I don’t really remember it. It was the first time I breathed a word of it to a man. And he didn’t argue with me. He didn’t say I drank to much. He said he was sorry and that he has learned in recent years that this man shows a systematic pattern of abuse. I’m not the only one.

I vaguely talked about this struggle the other day after having to send an email off to a relative stranger to prevent him from speaking on the call. I wanted to vomit. A few very close colleagues messaged to ask that if I was comfortable telling them, they’d like to know so they can speak up whenever they see his name. I told them. My situation is grey and confusing. I haven’t named it because I’m not sure. I almost wish I was all alone so that I could believe it was OK, but all the stories I have heard from other women about this man who displayed varying degrees of abuse toward them shows that he is an abuser. He has hurt women and there is plenty of evidence to show that he would continue to. And I’m not going to be alone in speaking up when his name is in consideration anymore.