#my courier is the worst I love him I hate him I would not let him in my house

[yeehanfrf]

Week 2 Recs: Feel-Good Hour

The Week 2 Fic Rec Friday theme was "Feel-Good Hour," or fluffy, heartwarming fics! Here are all the fluffiest fics recommended by the Yeehan community, organized by rating, then alphabetically by title.

General Audience

Blue Roses and Salted Caramel by AsheRhyder [11,135 words] Reccer comment: "Hanzo is the head of a post office and Cassidy is in need of his services."

Hanzo hated Valentine's Day and everything that went with it. This got exceptionally awkward for a man whose courier service saw business triple in the lead up to February 14th.

A series of 'special deliveries' between Mr. Jack Morrison and Mr. Gabriel Reyes drew his attention. Initially, it was because he wasn’t sure if it was the world's most polite form of hate mail or the world's most awkward flirting...

But then there was something about Mr. Reyes' son, Jesse, that kept him coming back...

From Another Room by acrxphxbia [3,822 words] Reccer comment: "I always come back to this because its just so freaking sweet I'll have diabetes"

Jesse and Hanzo have a lazy day together. They play some music. A birthday gift for my lovely wife, Tsol.

Keep You On My Side by maskedhero, radiantsaber [11,438 words] Reccer comment: "I don't know that it's necessarily gooey or fluffy, but I'm pretty sure this is the softest Yeehan I have in my bookmarks."

Hanzo Shimada has loved Jesse McCree for years.

And for years, he remained silent.

A Night of Firsts by KittenzCaboodle [13,752 words] Reccer comment: "I'd like to also rec one of my fics, if it's alright, which is just pure G-rated humor and fluff"

Out of every Overwatch and Blackwatch team member Cole had worked with, Hanzo Shimada was certainly not the worst.  He had met ruder folks, meaner folks, and Hanzo was… well, Hanzo was just kinda… there, sitting in the corner, rarely making a sound, like a stray dog that you had let in from the rain that wasn’t sure if a meal or a boot was coming its way next.

Hanzo seemed perfectly content to stay out of the spotlight, pulling more than his weight on missions, assisting around the base when asked, but never going out of his way to do or say much outside of anything related to work.  There were only a few souls he even felt comfortable being near - Genji, Ana, and Cole - but being near was a far cry from being relaxed around. - Hanzo agreeing so easily to accompany Cole on a mission in Japan was a surprise, not that Cole minded getting a chance to work more closely with the handsome fella.

It would be one of a few surprises they encountered that night, as they had a night of firsts.

Teen and Up

Dreamlike by mataglap [4,063 words] Reccer comment: "Another one where they meet in dreams and it becomes reality ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱"

Hanzo is used to bad dreams, and he never would have expected that a good dream would end up haunting him the most.

A Good Time is Free by cocoabunny [2,385 words] Reccer comment: "this fic is so much fun and has the distinction of being perhaps the only fic tagged both 'assassination attempt' and 'fluff' I've ever read"

McCree and Hanzo are sent on an undercover mission to assassinate a bad, bad dude—except they mess up and get trapped in a mall overnight. How did two professional ex-assassins manage to get locked in, and how are they going to cope without murdering (or passionately kissing) each other?!

Just Once by Vimeddiee [2,534 words] Reccer comment: "sugar sweet fluff"

Cole dreams that he’s kissing someone.

Respite by CommonNonsense [5,732 words] Reccer comment: "This one is a delightful read. I enjoy how the characters are written!"

He freezes for a moment before he finally hazards a look down. Hanzo has apparently nodded off, lulled into a doze by a sake with a frankly alarming alcohol percentage, and managed to tip into McCree before he could fall over.

Honestly? Not the first time someone’s done this to him.

It is the first time that McCree hesitates, though.

you give me the most gorgeous sleep by JeziBelle [1,537 words] Reccer comment: "I've only finished one yeehan fic ever and it's cotton candy (and also contains my favorite weird Southern turn of phrase I've ever written). In hopes that attention will make me write again, I humbly submit it here."

It's not that Jesse's particularly fond of waking up alone, but he's more than happy to settle for however much Hanzo is willing to give him.

Which makes for more than a little confusion the morning he doesn't.

Mature

four days by feyhound [23,869 words] Reccer comment: "Now, if you're into pretend/fake relationship fluff like I am, PLEASE read this. It's an old favorite and I come back to it every time I need a serotonin boost."

“I have an embarrassin’ favor to ask of you,” Cole says.

Hanzo stares at him expectantly, a single brow arched. “And what is that?” he asks.

“Y’see, my family might currently be under the impression that I’m bringin’ home a date for a few days next week. And, the thing is, I don’t really have one. So, I’m currently S-O-L and would really, really appreciate it if you came home with me for a few days and, uh. Pretended. To be my boyfriend.”

He stares down at his plate and jabs a fry into the enormous puddle of ketchup gathered in the center of it. If only the fry could be his hypothetical four-day boyfriend, he thinks; it would save him an enormous amount of embarrassment. It would be tastier, too.

[ Or - Cassidy desperately needs a fake date to bring home to his family, and Hanzo never does anything half-assed. ]

Like that guy in the Odyssey by vaguely_concerned [5,924 words] Reccer comment: "not quite gooey, but as fluffy as it can reasonably get and incredibly heartwarming"

In which a pair of wanderers return home — some slice of outlaw life!

Never Say Never (say how you feel) by fishpoets [5,402 words] Reccer comment: "one of my favorite tropes, and very sweet to boot!"

A list of things Jesse McCree has never done:

- spent the night with a lover without having sex - kept a lover for more than a handful of encounters - had a friend-with-benefits he actually considered a friend - or had a lover he actually loved.

There's a first time for everything.

Explicit

Have and Hold by t_pock [2,716 words] Reccer comment: "This one also has smut but it's so fluffy and so heart-warming... yeehan marriage 🥺❤️"

Jesse always thought there’d be a firefight on his wedding day.

And that's a wrap on this week! Thank you to everyone who sent in a recommendation! Keep an eye out for next week's theme: "Right on Time," or modern/contemporary AUs.

In the meantime, you can also check out the Week 1 recs here or preview upcoming themes here!

[g-gurokisses]

hi anna! after seeing so many people confess to you, I've decided to come and confess too! I hope you're doing okay, mwah <3

me and my boyfriend have been together for two months, and I suddenly and immediately fell for him. he liked me first, but... we talk every day, all day, and I always feel like I'm the one putting in all the effort...

He talks about having yandere tendencies and I always tell him how much I would love to hear about them, but he doesn't compliment me, or obsess over me, or even seem like he likes me...

Where as I have sent him numerous love notes, gifts, and other tokens of my affections. I always compliment him until he's flustered because he is my perfect boy!

I would be okay with the fact I love him more but it was his birthday recently. And I sent him a surprise gift to be delivered by courier, because his actual present won't arrive in time, and called him numerous times during the day, and helped him pick out an outfit...

For him to meet with a friend. He spent all day with her, they bought coffees and then bought drinks, and they talked from daylight to sundown. And the worst part is, he invited her back to his apartment to continue drinking and spend the night...

I trust him not to do anything wrong, but I just feel so hurt that on a day as special as his birthday, he would spend it with a friend he isn't even close to rather than me! I know he doesn't owe me his time or his attentions, but I try so hard to be important to him...

I know this is a very long confession Anna, I'm sorry for that. My heart is hurting and I feel as though it might be best to take a step back because I'm so obsessed with him I can't even see clearly. I logically know he should be able to enjoy his birthday celebrating with someone who can be there in person, but forgetting to text me... cutting our daily phone call short so he could go back inside to share drinks with her and talk to her when I'm right here... I don't know what to do, Anna. I would really appreciate some advice!

Sending you all my love and gratitude, I hope you're having a good day! And don't worry about responding quickly, I'll be grateful for any advice you have to give me. <3

Thank you for sharing this with me!!

Oh darling, you're just far too sweet to allow yourself to be treated like this!! What an absolute sweetheart you are. I never fails to break my heart when precious little darlings like you come to me with such heartbreaking love affairs.

I understand that love is blind, deaf and irrational but I'm afraid this relationship of yours just... isn't what's right for you. I understand he might want to spend the day with a close friend but this treatment is, in my opinion, straight up uncalled for and unacceptable.

I myself have a very close relationship with my best friend, it's to the point where I don't even crave or want any other relationship with anyone. And me, someone who seems to be in the same predicament as your boyfriend would NEVER allow myself to put my friend before a lover.

I hate giving such cutthroat advice but I'm afraid I see it no other way. You could communicate all these feelings to him. If you really wish to give him a second chance, I'd suggest you speak with him and give him a week. If in that week he doesn't demonstrate a change then the best thing for you is to let go. And by demonstrate I mean take action, as in, not just words.

Whenever it might seem like a bad choice to end things, imagine your future like this. This...friend of his...always in the picture. She helps him pick out your first apartment, and regularly stays over, even when you're not there...She's a bridesmaid in your wedding of course, and she's wearing white. Next to your husband. She catches the bouquet, they take pictures together, without you. Until you're unhappy and unloved by a disgrace of a husband and too old and tired to bring yourself to date again...

You might think I'm dramatic, crazy, that I'm over thinking this. But it's the reality many people face. If you feel like this already, your feelings will only go from bad to worse.

Remember, my love, there's someone out there for all of us. But if you make yourself unavailable with someone who's entangled with someone else, you're damming yourself to loneliness. You're such a beautiful and loving individual, I'm sure you'll find the perfect person once you let yourself be loved.

And do forgive me if I was harsh or blunt. I just won't stand for such a gorgeous soul like you to live such hurtful love. You're, of course, free to ignore me completely, but remember that I have nothing but everyone's best interest in mind. I might not be cupid himself, but I've seen and lived plenty of bad and beautiful relationships, so this comes from personal and learnt experience.

Good luck, dear!! Stay strong. And remember, if you ever feel you need to talk, cry or complain, I'm always available. Always.

I love you!!

[lassieposting]

otp questions for skugwife plz 🥺

1. Who said I love you first?

He did, about three seconds after laying eyes on her for the first time. He was Not Subtle. In his defence, he was in a field hospital at the time, covered in his own blood, and was high off his ass on pain relief, so.

2. Who laughs and kisses their partner on the cheek while their partner isn’t happy about something trivial to try and make them feel better?

Wifey. She's kind of handicapped here because Skug does his best to shield her from the worst parts of himself and the grim truth about war. He doesn't outright lie to her, but he'll censor what he tells her, leaving out the death and the blood and the gore, because he's grown up terrified of becoming his father and he's desperate to be the man she thinks he is, to be someone who's worthy of her love. He doesn't want her to ever look at him and see a killer. If she has to think of him at war, he wants her to think of her gallant hero who always saves the day. So a lot of the time, when he gets into a black mood, she doesn't actually know what's really distressing him. She knows he has nightmares, but he always claims he doesn't remember what they're about. She knows that sometimes he'll nick himself with a knife while he's helping her with dinner, and when she turns around he's just standing there watching his hand bleed like he's suddenly somewhere very far away, but she doesn't know why he gets like that. She knows he has days where she'll say his name four or five times before he even seems to hear her, and an unexpected gunshot from one of the neighbouring smallholdings will have him trembling and running to check on her. But she tries, when he's quiet and distant and sad. She'll hold him and stroke his hair or sing to him or take him out walking in the sunshine, and eventually he'll take her hand and kiss her knuckles and apologise for being an arse, and she never really knows how to tell him that she doesn't mind him having those days at all, she just wishes she knew how to make him stop hurting.

3. Who cuddles up to the other after a long day at work, and this soon escalates to a playful pillow fight?

Skug. They're a cuddly, affectionate couple anyway, but his favourite thing in the world is laying his head in her lap and having his hair stroked. The man melts. They'll cuddle up in the evenings and he'll keel over for her as soon as she pats her leg like come on then and they'll just. Catch each other up on what they've missed since the last time he was home, while she pets him. She'll tell him the latest drama in her friend circle and how her father's been dodging the advances of an elderly patient, and he'll give her a censored, family-friendly version of what he got up to at the front - so, all the funny stories, but with all the gore and death and hard choices edited out. If he says something sufficiently ridiculous, she'll swat him in the face with a cushion. Sometimes he'll fall asleep there and she'll keep playing with his curls until she thinks he's well and truly out of it, and then pick up her needlework to do over his head while he sleeps.

4. What is something that they gave one another that has a lot of meaning?

When they're courting, she makes him a scarf and sends it with the courier with one of her letters, because she didn't like to think of him being cold on night watches. It's red and has zero magical properties whatsoever, it's no Bespoke creation, but he wears it on every mission.

She has a locket with his portrait in it. He's ADHD as fuck and hates sitting still for hours, but she playfully tells him one time that he's "been away so long I almost forgot what you looked like," and he takes it seriously and makes sure that never happens again.

5. How would one another describe their partner?

Very similarly. They both think the other one is their better half and that they don't deserve them. She loves him because he's brave and clever and funny and not afraid to stand up for what he believes in. He loves her because she's good and kind and loving and makes him want to be a better man. They're that couple that are so caught up in each other's virtues that they completely miss each other's flaws.

6. Who wraps their arms around their partner as they look them in the eyes and compliments them with a goofy smile?

Skug, every time they go somewhere they'll be surrounded by His Kind Of People.

Wifey is a salt of the earth working/lower-middle-class sort of girl. She has a job. She's grown up doing all the cooking and cleaning for her father, and she continues to do a lot of it even after she gets married and Skug hires servants because she can't stand to be idle. She has a very limited education; she didn't spend her childhood being fussed over by governesses or taught to simper and dance and paint. So she feels very out of place at fancy Sanctuary parties, surrounded by Skug's superior officers and their sophisticated upper-class wives. She's worried about embarrassing him, she's worried about making him look bad, she's worried about being laughed at or insulted behind her back for being too common or too forthright or too lacking in pretty manners.

He'll pull her to one side before they're announced and remind her that she outshines every other woman in the room, that most of these people are boorish and ignorant anyway so who cares what they think, and that she's got nothing to worry about: she's far more charming than he is and the laws of probability suggest that if anyone is gonna put their foot in it and embarrass the other one, it'll be him.

7. Who loves saying ‘my wife’ or ‘my husband’ or ‘my spouse’?

Wifey, especially when they're newlyweds. She has absolutely no idea how she managed to land him. He's hers now, forever. She has to keep saying it to convince herself it's true. Skug is a bit baffled, but having someone so happy to lay claim to him gives him major heart eyes. He's not used to having someone be proud of him and want to show him off like he's something worth bragging about.

8. Who always talks about how amazing their partner is when their partner isn’t there and they just light up with genuine love and happiness?

God, both of them.

In Prussia, a few months after they get married, Morwenna Crow takes one for the team and spends three solid weeks indulging Skug while he talks about his wife just, constantly.

On Wifey's side, she has a gaggle of girlfriends who appear at the door of her lovely new home to take tea at the first opportunity after her honeymoon wanting all the salacious details. And? She has so much to tell them. Like a lot of young women at the time, the most she was given in the way of sex education was a vague lecture from an older married friend about Marital Duties that didn't really serve a purpose beyond making her really, really nervous about her wedding night.

(She tells Skug about this lecture while she's sprawled all over him somewhere between round two and round three on said wedding night. She's confused. She was told it would be distasteful and unpleasant and painful. Why would her friends lie to her? He laughs, and strokes her hair, and tells her her friends' husbands are clearly doing something wrong.)

So. She returns from her honeymoon with a lot of new information to share with her poor, deprived friends. She's not the only married woman in the group, but she's the only one who married for love, so the unmarried girls are looking at what they want for themselves, and the ones who married for wealth or status are lowkey living vicariously through her.

These gatherings are deeply unnerving for poor Skug. He'll pop into the parlour to kiss Wifey goodbye before he goes out riding with Ghastly, and like eight smirking women politely sipping tea will chorus good morning, Skulduggery like they know something he doesn't know, and something about the way they look at him makes him feel like they're starving and he's a juicy steak. And then he'll close the door behind him when he leaves the room and hear them all immediately explode into giggles. What the fuck do they talk about in there??? At least once he's asked Wifey if she's plotting to sacrifice him, or something.

9. Who loves it when their partner kisses them good morning?

Skug. When you've spent the last 6+ months snatching at sleep on a hard bed with itchy blankets in between night watches and enemy attacks and commando raids of your own, it becomes a real treat to get a full nights sleep and wake up in fresh sheets in your own bed with your wife pressed up against your back, kissing your neck and touching you under the blanket. He knows he's safe when he wakes up with her, and he misses feeling her burrow into his arms when they're apart.

10. Who shows the other how to balance a spoon on their nose?

Skug.

11. Who loves to pull pranks on the other? What type of pranks do they pull and do they pull their pranks off?

Wifey's favourite is to tell Skug she invited her father to stay for a week and watch him frantically try to arrange his face into any other expression than "horrified". This is doubly funny if he just came home and he's raring to get her into bed - "Oh, darling, we can't, Papa will be here shortly, and he's due to stay until Thursday next, you'll simply have to wait," - but she never lets him believe it for long. She's not, like, cruel.

12. What is something small that they would randomly pick up for one another?

Spending money is Skug's love language. He's always buying her "just a little something"s. Hair ribbons, jewellery, new dresses, books, paints...anything he sees and thinks she'd enjoy.

She bakes for him, when he's home. She doesn't think the army feeds him properly, and she knows he eats like a horse. Coming back from Ghastly's to the smell of homemade bread is one of his favourite things about being married.

13. Who is the one who can’t stop laughing when trying to tell a joke?

Wifey. She'll be doubled over wheezing, red in the face, and Skug will still have no idea what the joke is. She didn't get that far. She's the kind of person where, many hours later, he'll ask, "So what was that joke you wanted to tell me?" and it'll just. Set her off again.

14. Who would plan the other a surprise birthday party?

Skug. He's often away for Wifey's birthday, but he'll always try to wheedle some leave out of Corrival so he can come home and spend it with her. It doesn't always work - a lot of the time they simply can't spare him - but he does his best.

15. Who picks the other person up when hugging their partner?

Skug is a 6'4 beanpole of a man who likes small, petite women. Wifey is like 5'3 tops and he picks her up all the time. She weighs, like, nothing to him and she's really into how strong he is, so getting swept off her feet all the time doesn't bother her.

What does bother her is when his lanky ass forgets to bring things down from the top shelf before going away for a few months. She can't reach up there.

[yslore]

Writing Asks

thank u to sarah @soldouthaz, lily @theisolatedlily and late @tomlinvelvetfics for tagging me !!

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted

started in eighth grade after moving which fucked me up (i’m still to recover lmao) n i needed a distraction, reading had always helped but writing is what let me see what the root of my agony was. (im not trying to be pretentious i swear) i first started on wattpad (love hate relationship to this day) and beginning of lockdown this year gravitated to ao3 which has been my saving grace !!!

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?

so far i’ve mostly written in louis’ pov. i’ve had to ask this question in the early stages — i resonate the closest to harry. most of my wips are harry centric for that reason. i mean, yes and no — i tend to take some part of me and fit it into the character but at the same time i don’t like seeing me on a page so yes and no.

3. where do you often find inspiration?

EVERYWHERE. mostly others’ stories be it in the way of songs, music, writing, art. usually it’s me coming across a vaguely aesthetic picture and my brain spitting out one or two random scenes and me trying to make that a story.

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?

both !!! i have new wips but also i lost a lot of motivation to do anything for a bit. school is sucking the soul out of me — it’s both easier and harder with it being online, the worst part is i can never truly feel like i’m getting a break from it. recently it’s been easier for me bc of the friends i made (ily all) it’s hindered a little bit bc i can’t go out and watch people and streetlights and the blur of cars and try to pour out that feeling into words and create something. at the same time it’s helped me gain more perspective on people and relationships which has been a massive help to writing in general.

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence?

depending on the number of classes i have/attend, my mental stability, the story and my sensitivity. i often can’t stand loud noises so there’s that but there is always some noise or the other so it’s never truly silent. i like it that way. sometimes i just play intense studying playlist on spotify and write, Lucida by Odin Sørlie and Haunted Heart by Dawn, Dawn, Dawn are my favourites.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?

excessive usage of the same word in mine. in general, i’m not a fan of stereotypical characters or romanticising harmful themes.

7. describe your ideal writing setup

2 am, in bed, music still ringing in my ears, three texts from my best friend about a story or about their day. under the blanket, the room smelling of chocolate or something sweet.

8. favorite time of day to write?

anytime but afternoon. those hours are for naps.

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?

fiction? i’d love to write a fantasy au 👀

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? how do you typically overcome it?

yep yep. i just edit an old story or read my old works or other writers’ fics. i gave up trying to force myself into writing — i hated the end product and felt bad so.

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult?

probably the emotions? dialogue without a doubt — i dread writing it. it doesn’t come to me naturally. i can write lengths without dialogue tbh. also smut — it’s an eh eh aspect.

12. how do you come up with original characters? (if applicable)

my wonderful friends. they do dumb shit and i want to tell the world about their dumb shit so i make characters out of them.

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word?

as of now it is fucker — delightful word that one. least favourite is probably squelch — just no.

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?

the dreamy feeling i manage to write without a doubt !!!! dialogue and pacing. i don’t have the best dialogue or the pacing or the length for fics but i’m working on all of those !!

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?

still a wip so i can’t tell you much except that it’s a proper treat. will write this once i’ve posted that fic !!

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?

*nervous laughter* the font changes from fic to fic — crush is comic sans, size 11. October was Lora, 11. Twisted in bedsheets is courier new, 11. stargazing is spectral, 11. so yeah — whatever the fic demands. single spaced !!!! except when i’m overwhelmed i do double spaces.

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?

I Cannot Type. if you think i can — congratulations you were fooled. autocorrect is the loml.

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?

of course !!!! i basically do not exist out of my writing.

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?

pain, pining, longing. lust.

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?

we’re all fucked up but we’re trying and trying sometimes is enough. you shouldn’t spend your life carved out around one person. it’s okay to ask for help and need a shoulder to lean on. i hope these come across in my future fics !!!!

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?

bold of you to assume i’ve ever received advice.

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?

a new fic. will update the answer once that fic is out !!!!!

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?

chronologically. i can’t do out of order. i do have a page full of scribbles but they are to tell me the order sjakmd.

24. how do you handle criticism?

if it’s constructive then well. no thick skin tbh. makes me feel as if i need validation from someone else on my art which isn’t necessary but my brain is wired to seek it and it’s a hassle.

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?

write everything you would want to read. write it bad, don’t worry about the quality. don’t worry about the audience. end of the day, it should be something you can turn to for comfort not something that makes you feel bad.

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?

people telling me they like my writing and it could take them out of this world for a few minutes !!!!!

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?

probably crush verse !!!! harry — his is probably the one character where i dump most of me in.

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?

rant to me about anything. i enjoy talking. ask me about wips so i can take the little guilt and write more.

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?

it’s nice to let go and express things and create characters with a better situation than mine.

30. why do you write?

keep myself busy.

boost yourself + tags

1a. share the last sentence you wrote

No kissing. No flashbacks.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about

a little something i’m writing inspired by @brickredtoe’s art !!!!

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of

ok. well. from 5436 miles

“Or we could always add a trail of stars to one of those moons,” he replies, words dragged out, rolling around in his mouth.

He can see the glint in his eyes even behind his closed lids. Everything about Louis is inked and etched into every fiber of his being.

He would’ve kissed him, words pouring from his mouth into Harry’s, only half his.

He snorts. “And make it seem like the moon has a buttplug? No, thanks.”

4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s)

both my published fics have circular endings.

5436 miles — Louis always had more stars in his eyes.

these tornadoes are for you — His heart beats in peace.

5a. link to the last fic you read.

sugary sweet by the immensely talented @soldouthaz

6a. link the last work you published

here

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable)

wheeee

8a. someone that inspires you

taylor. she’s so so wonderful.

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year

all of riv, sarah, ris and late’s fics. they’ve been so so comforting. Event Horizon by @mercurial-madhouse

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag!

@mercurial-madhouse @harryanthus are the only ones coming to mind atm. i’ve been up for too long apologies.

[thessalian]

Thess vs MY PEOPLE

So, okay, here’s my job:

Doctors deal with tissue a lot. Maybe it’s a biopsy. Maybe someone’s had a baby and there’s a placenta. Maybe you had your appendix out, or gallbladder, or spleen, or bits of digestive tract. Maybe there’s a weird lump. Either way, tissue. What happens with that tissue is that ... well, we get it. We get it, and one lab tech looks at it, to see what if anything about it needs to get looked at through a microscope. Then they cut up the tissue (or just stick it in whole if it’s small enough) and give it to someone with a bit more in the way of medical degree, who looks at it through a microscope to see what the cells are doing.

In our office, we type about the bits that don’t get looked at through a microscope. So I don’t see the ones with a bit more in the way of medical degree that often. They probably come in sometimes, just to look for slides or something, but my back is to the door and I’m usually sitting with my headphones in, up to my eyeballs in description of taking apart a lump of kidney or something, and don’t notice.

Today, I noticed.

Mid-height guy, best fits the word ‘jovial’ - bit plump, probably 10-15 years my senior, glasses, beard stuffed into his mask as much as possible, really cheerful voice. Cheerful Old Party, British Style.

Thing is ... Cheerful Old Party, British Style - one of our chief doctors - was talking about how he was waiting for his PS5 to show up.

Gamer Senses: ACTIVATED

So I asked him what he played. First thing he said, “Well, I like RPGs, mostly. I loved Skyrim so I got into Elder Scrolls Online--”

Interest: PIQUED

So I asked him about Dragon Age.

He loved Dragon Age - Inquisition for gameplay, Origins for story

So I asked him about Mass Effect.

“All of them except Andromeda.”

Then we got to talking about Baldur’s Gate 3 and Larian Studios (he liked Divinity 2) and we got to talking about the whole dice-rolling mechanic that they’re using for BG3 and he was like, “Yeah, they’re going by ... what, fifth edition rules?” And when I brought up the issue about having the worst of both world - linear options by comparison to a tabletop game, but still the added tabletop chance of having the avenue you’ve chosen not work because the RNG hated you - and mentioned how I ran a thing... He’s like, “Oh, so you’re a Dungeon Master, then?”

I HAVE MET MY PEOPLE!

They’re still working me to death (it was only me and Scruffman in the office again and I had no help with typing and I ended the day in wrist braces but I’m mostly okay now) but it’s solid work and I HAVE MET MY PEOPLE so I might actually survive the office yet!

He says he’ll let me know how the PS5 is when and if he ever gets his (Sony’s played silly buggers and gave the delivery to the worst courier service we have). So there’s that to look forward to.

Wouldn’t have thought that the only person in the office with whom I could have a real conversation about things relevant to my interests would be a guy in his mid-late 50s. But then again, wouldn’t have thought I could have a real conversation about things relevant to my interests in the office at all. So ... bonus.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You Chapter 154

Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom head to the South coast with Tom's family for a large family get together and much to Tom's shock, Danielle allows herself get caught talking to his dog-obsessed Aunt.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Right, little things that need explaining.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @wolfsmom1 @black-ninja-blade

Danielle was practically giddy as she inhaled the saltwater air of Britain's southern coast. She looked to the blue liquid sparkling in the warmer than usual summer weather, the sun beaming in the cloudless sky.

Tom stood beside her, letting the sun warm his face as he too appreciated the good weather. For their part, Bobby and Mac seemed to want only to remain in the shade, neither overly happy with the higher temperatures. “We better get to the house and get unpacked. According to Sarah, everyone is meeting for an early dinner.” Danielle seemed reluctant to move. “We're here for a considerable portion of the summer.” He reminded her.

“It's the only reason you're going to be able to move me now.” She smiled back. “Don't forget to confirm your invitation to the Final. I'll drive, you do that.”

“There are invitations for both of us.” Tom looked at her hopefully.

“I can't, Love. I promised your Mam and Emma that I would help her mind Lucy that day. Jack's sister is getting married and Emma will only go if me and your Mam are minding Lucy, so I said yes.” She gave him an apologetic look. “And that's the Roubaix phase of the Tour as well.” She smirked.

Tom shook his head. “You're indoctrinating Lucy, aren't you?”

“Yep.” Tom chuckled and kissed her hand. “Next time.”

“I'll hold you to that.” Tom warned.

“Tennis is wasted on me. He hit the ball, the other guy hit the ball, both stayed in the box, now the first guy hit it again and so on and so forth.”

“Says she who is missing that to watch a bunch of emaciated men cycle a bumpy road for a shirt.” Tom retorted playfully.

“Yep. And a horrible bright yellow one at that. Ah, Sky will probably have it again this year with Froome.” She admitted.

“If you talk like that about it, why are you even going to watch it?”

“Because a whole race can change on one stage. One mistake and you can wipe out half the peloton. That and I love looking at the French countryside and towns throughout the Tour also.” She stated unapologetically as she stated the car so they could get back to the house.

The plan was a two week stay at first, the first week would involve the rest of the family too, Emma, Jack and Lucy, Yakov, Sarah and their Duchess and of course, Diana, all staying in one large house and the second week, only the two of them and Bobby and Mac, who Danielle and Tom had ensured would have their own spot in the house so to avoid babies if need be. Poppy, for the most part, was happy to interact with the males when it suited her but come meal and bedtime, she was more than able to inform them to leave her alone.

It was an odd sensation for Danielle to be in such a full house but she adored it. Tom seemed almost elated, having her to be by his side as his sister's partners were in events before. He told her about his different family members they would be meeting while Danielle reminded him that she had, in fact, met the majority of them before at Emma's wedding.

The dinner was pleasant, with everyone getting the rest of the house up-to-date with their goings on. Danielle had assisted Emma substantially with Lucy while Jack was forced to return to work, so both of them were knowledgeable on the other's business, but everyone was still curious to know about Danielle's new work venture and the arrival of a courier with a substantial case of documents from Safeguard did not help proceedings. Tom was elated to see Danielle accept the paperwork before placing it in a corner and commenting that she would deal with it after all the family related malarkey of the following few days.

Tom enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded by family. There, he could just be Tom again, no pretence, no public persona, they didn't care for that. To his aunts, uncles and cousins, he was simply Diana's boy who adored theatre and shows and it made him incredibly happy. He watched as again, Danielle assisted Emma with Lucy, holding the baby as Emma prepared a bottle of expressed milk for her daughter. He watched as she gently moved around so to allow Emma the time to sort herself and keep Lucy amused. At a mere six weeks, there was little thought required to make it so but Lucy seemed to like the movement and her Godmother was only too happy to oblige.

“So, when are we getting our big day out of you then?”

Tom sighed to himself at his aunt's words, having heard them a thousand times before, ever since he was twenty-five actually, had she badgered him about settling down and getting married. He also knew his mother had spoken to her sister-in-law regarding not doing so any longer, especially when Danielle and Tom confirmed they too would be coming to the family gathering. “Not yet, Aunt Delia.” He smiled politely.

“And why not, she's as good a girl as any.”

Tom laughed to himself. He knew Delia had not said more than a passing hello to Danielle yet, so her decision that she was a suitable spouse was based solely on observations from afar, in the twenty minutes they had all been at the one house. “Because Danielle is a busy woman and she hasn't time for such things at present and with my upcoming work, I am similar.”

“No one has told me yet what she does?”

Again, Tom found himself groaning internally at his aunt's assumption that she was automatically entitled to such information. “She owns a share in a safety management firm, she's a safety officer.”

“I see.”

Tom waited to see if, to Delia, that was an “acceptable” profession.

“Good.” She declared. “You need a strong woman.”

“Danielle is incredible.” Tom agreed. “She is an amazing woman. When you speak to her, you'll realise that too.” He smiled. “How is Rupert?”

On his asking about her beloved French Bulldog, Delia beamed brightly and took out her phone to show him pictures. Tom was relieved that she had moved on from keeping a bunch of pictures in her purse to show people but groaned at the knowledge that she would now have hundreds more to show. He glanced over to Danielle and gave her a small look to tell her everything he needed her to know.

Danielle chuckled to herself and nodded slightly.

“Dare I ask?” Emma questioned as she sat into a chair and taking Lucy.

Danielle handed her her daughter gently. “Tom is giving the “save me” look.”

“Are you going to save him?”

“No, not yet. You have to do it smartly. You leave it a few minutes and then do the whole 'Tom, your Mam needs you’ routine and save him from...what is she showing him?”

“Probably Rupert, her dog. She is obsessed with him. She had three kids but she loves the dog more than them or her grandchildren.” Emma commented as she put a bib on Lucy and began feeding her.

“Are you okay here? I better put the show on for her by going to your Mam.”

“I'm okay here, thank you. Buy if you see Jack, could you tell him to get me my pump from the car?”

“Of course, and if I don't, I'll grab it in a minute, okay?”

“Thank you.”

Danielle found Jack and relayed the message and then found Diana, being forced to make small talk with who she found out was Delia's husband for a few minutes before going and saving Tom.

Tom's face was nothing short of relief when he saw her coming toward them. He brightened his smile and gently leant forward. “Yes, Darling?”

“I am so sorry to interrupt but Tom, your Mam wants you for a moment, something to do with a photograph, she said you would know what that meant.”

“Darn, I hoped she would forget. Aunt Delia, I would like to introduce you to my wonderful Danielle, or as you have no doubt heard myself, Mum and Emma call her, just Elle and Elle, Darling, this is my lovely aunt Delia.”

“Oh, yes. I was speaking to your husband not too long ago, he says you have a lovely Frenchie.” Danielle smiled.

Danielle could have been the living embodiment of Satan but as soon as she mentioned Rupert with such enthusiasm, Delia deemed her worthy. “Yes, my wonderful Rupert, I was just telling Thomas about him.”

Danielle gave a slight smirk while Tom groaned at being referred to by his full name. “Yes, they're not common in Ireland, or weren't while I was growing up, but they are a big thing here. We meet two on our walks some days and they have to be one of the sweetest breeds ever. A lovely dog.”

“Oh, they are. I was just showing Thomas some pictures. Would you like to see him?”

“I would love to, as soon as I assist with this photograph that Diana mentioned. Is he brindle?” She noticed the screensaver of the phone and the dog on it.

“Yes, that's my Rupert, so handsome.” Delia smiled fondly. “I look forward to speaking with you more about him later.”

“As soon as I am done.” Danielle promised, earning a satisfied nod from Delia. “Run.” She urged Tom as soon as the older woman was out of hearing distance.

“Thank you.” He sighed as they walked through to a different room. “Aunt Delia is a lovely woman, in small doses and her obsession with that dog….it's difficult to listen to. You better find a way to avoid her later because if she thinks she has someone to listen, she will keep you for the whole evening.”

“It's boring but not the worst. I often think with people who focus so obsessively on one thing in their lives because they feel as though that one thing is all they really have.”

*

Tom and Sarah watched in awe as Delia showed what they suspected to be the thousandth picture of her beloved Rupert to Danielle who sat speaking with her as though it was only the second or third.

“How long is she there?” Sarah asked.

“Forty minutes on my last count.” Tom answered, checking his watch.

“Save her.”

“I tried to, she just asked me to get them more tea.” Sarah looked at him in disbelief. “Shit, Delia's crying, why is Delia crying?”

“I wasn't aware she had tear ducts.” Sarah commented. “She's holding Danielle's hand so it can't be something she did.”

“Why is my mother crying?” Peter, Tom and Sarah's cousin asked as he came over to them. “Is she alright?”

“She's smiling, so I think so.” Tom responded.

They watched a time more before Frank, Delia's husband came over and suggested they go to back to their place, that Rupert would be missing them. She said her goodbyes to Danielle who smiled kindly at her before turning to her husband and heading to Tom, Sarah and Peter.

“We best get back to Rupert, he will be pining something dreadful.” She declared.

“You and that bloody dog, Mother.” Peter sighed.

Delia chose to ignore her son. “Thomas, that Danielle of yours is the most wonderful girl. If only Peter had been half as fortunate.”

“Mother, Geraldine is my wife, the mother of your grandchildren.”

“Well, she's no Danielle.”

Tom looked at his shocked cousin, unsure of what to say. “Yes... Danielle is incredible.”

“Do not let that young lady leave. You will never get the likes of her again.”

“I don't plan to.” Tom smiled, looking at Danielle, who was helping his other aunt clean a mess one of the children had made.

“Good.” Satisfied, she left.

Tom looked at Peter apologetically. “So your girlfriend gets my mother to cry and she's the second coming of Princess Diana, how does that work?”

“I genuinely have no idea.” Tom laughed. “I will have to ask her.”

“Please, if it is something I can do, let me know.” Peter sighed in exasperation before going back to his wife.

“I'm curious too.” Sarah confessed. “Go ask her “

On his sister's order, and with a healthy dose of curiosity of his own, Tom went to do so.

“I let her show me her dog, that's why.” Danielle explained plainly. “I gave her forty minutes of my time to tell me about Rupert and that made her tell me how heartbroken she is that Peter, Rebecca and Jessica don't really spend time with her anymore. Rupert needs her and loves her selflessly in return for her attention when her children don't always have time for her.”

“I hadn't realised that.”

“She brought Rupert to a photographer recently and had him professionally photographed. She'd loved to do that with her grandchildren but feels that Peter and Jessica and their partners don't want her to push too much on them and she knows she is overbearing and is trying to rein herself in but she can't help it and as a result, she puts it into Rupert. It's heartbreaking really, she gets jealous of your Mam and how we make time for her but listening and looking at her photos, it made her day.”

Tom smiled lovingly at her. “You are incredible. So caring. Aunt Delia, a woman who is, at best, overbearing, is a fan of yours.”

“She's a nice lady really.” Danielle smiled. “I know she is probably hard to have as a mother but she's not the worst. That dog gets the most of it.”

“He looks peculiar”

“French Bulldogs, they look like they've been hit in the face with a hot shovel. So ugly they're cute sort of thing.”

Tom laughed adoringly, loving the fact they had another two weeks by the coast to enjoy with Danielle by his side.

[katahnisharma]

the press tour [4] | t.h.

Word Count: 2.6 K

Warnings: none, i don't think??

Summary: You’re a new, inexperienced actress plucked from the obscurity of everyday life to play the lead in the reboot of a famous British Jane Austen novel, and Tom Holland just so happens to be playing your love interest.

A/N: This one was a little hard to write for obvious reasons. Also Tumblr apparently won't let me link things so if you’re looking for my masterlist, playlist, taglist, or writing challenge it’s in my bio <3 I also have to tag people a second time?? and because Tumblr screwed this up Saturday, I'm dropping the next chapter this Saturday 

Tom had been moody all day. He snapped at his driver for being two minutes late, got upset that his coffee was cold, and made his makeup artist storm out of her trailer. It was completely unlike him to act like such an asshole.

In other words, he was a mess.

"Dude, what is going on?" Jacob asked during an interview break. Tom stayed silent, walking past him to enter his dressing room. Jacob followed, determined to get an answer. He wasn't just going to let it go.

"Nothing, it's nothing. I'm fine" Tom gritted his teeth, feeling himself get even more frustrated with all the questions. His mind was on you and on the date, he simply couldn't get you out of his mind. It didn't help that the news outlets had been reporting on the sighting of the two of you nonstop, even though Tom had been very careful to avoid paparazzi.

Everywhere he looked, there were pictures of you two. You looked so beautiful, Tom found it hard to remember that he wasn't supposed to be in love with you anymore. It hurt so much that Tom almost considered telling everyone he was going home to sleep for the next millennium.

He'd loved you and you'd rejected him in the worst way possible.

"Yeah right, you're behaving like a real movie star right now, you know that?" Jacob pressed, closing the door behind him. He knew Tom was never like this unless something really bad had happened. Jacob also knew that Tom hated being called a movie star.

Sure enough, he broke.

"If you have to know, it's about Y/N okay!" Tom yelled, spinning around and kicking a chair across the room. Jacob didn't flinch, he was just confused. He knew that Tom liked Y/N, and was planning to ask her out, but it seemed something had gone wrong. Which was odd, considering the paparazzi pictures he had seen told a different story.

"What, I thought you guys went on a date?" He asked, and Tom collapsed into a chair with his head in his hands. Jacob walked over and sat next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder gently. He could hear Tom sigh and sniffle, and it made him sad to see his best friend like this.

"We did, but it didn't end well." Tom whispered, sitting up and wiping his eyes. Jacob realized he was crying, and he felt a little guilty about making Tom break like this. He considered calling Harrison to ask what to do, but decided against it. Tom needed to vent, so Jacob would listen.

"There's someone else, I saw the text. The worst part was that she didn't tell me, I had to find out like that. It was humiliating." Tom said, getting up and pacing the room. Jacob watched him, still not believing that you would do something like that. He had met you once, and thought you were the kindest person he'd ever met. It seemed so out of character, for you to do something like this.

"Are you sure about this? I mean, Y/N is the sweetest person ever. Did you talk to her about it?" Jacob asked, coming to stand behind Tom. Tom shook his head, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't asked you about it, but he figured he didn't need to. Tom knew what he saw.

"No, but I know what I saw Jacob. It was pretty obvious, and I wasn't about to tell her I'd been looking at her phone. I'm trying to get over her, but it's so hard. I really like her, and I have to do press with her." Tom groaned, throwing a pillow at the wall. It burst into feathers, each one cascading to the floor below. Jacob grimaced, going over to pick up the sack.

"Well, you've got time to get over her. You're here for two months, I'm sure you'll forget all about it. You're going to be super busy anyway." He said, and Tom felt a little better. He wouldn't see you, so maybe he could just wish the whole thing away. At the very least, he could just lay low for a while.

"Yeah, maybe." Tom sat down again, staring at the wall for a couple of minutes. Just as Jacob was about to leave, Tom's assistant Samual walked through the door. He looked like he had been running, and he panted a bit before handing Tom a note.

"Your PR manager is here, he wants to talk." Samual huffed, giving Jacob a wave. Tom quirked an eyebrow, taking the note from Samual's hand and giving it a read. It was scribbled pretty hastily, but Tom could just make out what it said

We need to talk.

"What's this all about?" Tom asked, but Samual shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea, the note had just been passed to him and it seemed pretty urgent. Jacob stood by the door as Tom put on his jacket. He really wasn't in the mood to speak to David, but he knew that it had to be important if a note had been couriered like this.

"Where is he?" Tom asked, and Samual pointed to a car on the outskirts of the set. The black Mercedes was parked next to the road, and Tom could just see David sitting in the back on his laptop. It was highly unusual for David to come all this way for something that could probably be discussed over the phone, which made Tom a little suspicious.

"Hey, Jacob tell Jon I'm taking five. I'll be right back." Tom walked out the door and broke into a quick jog. When he got to the car, he rapped on the window causing David to jump. The window rolled down and David peered out.

"Really? You could have just called ahead." David said, giving Tom a glare. Tom smiled deviously, leaning on the car door.

"Where's the fun in that? You wanted to see me?" Tom asked and David told him to get in. Tom slid into the backseat, and David shut his laptop. With the click of a button, he rolled up the divider and turned to face Tom.

"What is this, Tom?" David pulled out his phone and Tom grimaced. There on the screen was an article titled Tom and Y/N, Hollywood's next IT couple? Damn, he'd never escape these stupid pictures. David was frowning, and Tom knew he was in some serious trouble.

"Nothing, I went on a date with Y/N and it didn't go well. So what?" Tom asked and David sighed, closing the window. He went on Instagram and typed in the handle tomhollanders_spidey. Tom recognized the account, they were a big fan account that had started when he first began to act. The first picture that popped up was one of the paparazzi photos of you and Tom. Tom furrowed his brow, why did David care so much about this date?

"Read the comments for me." David said, handing Tom his phone.

So Tom began to read.

Ew, is this Y/N?? It's gonna be a no from me.

Oh my god nooooooo, Tom is wayyy to good for her.

Jesus, was there no one else?!?!

Not a fan of this relationship, he could do so much better.

Damn Tom needs some dating help.

Honestly Tom would look better with Zendaya.

I do not ship them at all.

First of all, Y/N is ugly and Tom is hot?? Dude needs glasses or something.

They'll break up after two months, Y/N is just using him for publicity.

Please God not another Hiddleswift.

"What the hell? I thought they liked us together" Tom muttered, not believing his fans could be so terrible. But he remembered some bad experiences from before, and just groaned instead. David shrugged, taking the phone back and putting his glasses on. Tom was observant enough to know that this meant David was about to cut to the quick.

"I don't know what happened between you, but you and Y/N cannot be a couple. Most of your fans are heavily against it and the press isn't entirely favorable either. We need some major damage control, I don't want this hanging over you for the Far From Home junket. Sony doesn't want that either." David said, turning to face Tom. Tom pursed his lips, looking over David's shoulder and out the window. Life would have been a lot simpler if he hadn't been an actor. He would have been able to date whoever he wanted.

But these were the cards he was dealt, and he would have to deal with them as best as he could.

"So, what do we do? I'm assuming you already have some sort of plan." Tom said and David brought out a manila folder. Tom rolled his eyes, but he knew David had been thinking about this for a while. It was the folder he'd dubbed The Dating File. It contained profiles of actresses that fans had either shipped him with or had expressed an interest in Tom at some point. When Tom had just started out, David had compiled the file as an emergency fix in case of a PR disaster.

Tom had always hoped they'd never have to use it.

"God, no not the Dating File! Isn't there anything else we can do?" Tom whined and now it was David's turn to roll his eyes. He liked Tom well enough, but David was used to working with actors like John Travolta and Adam Sandler who had a smidge less integrity when it came to PR.

"Like what? If you have another idea I'm all ears." David said, leaning back while Tom rested his head on his hand. Truthfully, Tom didn't have another idea, but he would have done anything to avoid the Dating File.

"Couldn't we just ride it out? It's not that serious, it's just a couple paparazzi pictures and some pissed off fans." Tom reasoned, and David shook his head emphatically.

"Not that serious? Tom, the Sony execs called me today wondering if they should cut some of your interviews during the junket, so that promotions don't get overshadowed by your love life. Unless you have a better idea, this is our best bet." David finished his lecture and handed Tom the file. Tom took it slowly and opened it gingerly.

"Shit. Fine, I guess I don't have a choice then. So what, I pick one like on the Bachelor?" Tom laughed sardonically, flipping through the pages. There were some pretty famous actresses compiled, including Chloe Grace Moretz, Elle Fanning, Hailee Steinfeld, Ella Purnell, Maia Mitchell, Olivia Holt, Saoirse Ronan, Kiernan Shipka, and Zendaya. Tom sighed and dropped the file back into his lap.

"I don't know, David. Does it even matter who I choose? It's not like we're getting married or something." Tom huffed, handing the file back to David.

"Fine, then I'll pick. We need an actress that the fans really ship you with or one that has previously said they would date you." David flipped through the profiles one by one, taking out the ones that would work best. Tom sat up, realizing that he knew an actress that would fit the bill perfectly.

"Zendaya. Z is our best bet. The fans all ship us, they're always asking about us in interviews. They already call us Tomdaya or whatever, what about her?" Tom asked. David looked up, a smile on his face. Thank god they'd picked one, he was going crazy dealing with Tom.

"You're right, she'd be perfect. She's well known and already has an established relationship with you. Good, I'll call her in so you two can talk." David picked up his phone, but Tom stopped him midway.

"Wait, what do you mean call her in? Is she here already?" Tom looked out the window, and sure enough there was Zendaya with Darnell and her PR manager Aubrey. David smiled and waved, and they all waved awkwardly back. Tom spun around, looking at David for an explanation.

"What? I knew you'd pick Zendaya, so I called her ahead of time. She's been here for about two hours now? Before you ask, yes she agreed to the whole fake dating thing. All you need to do now is hammer out some conditions, a sort of contract if you will. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to Starbucks." David rapped on the divider and motioned for Tom to get out. Tom slid out of the backseat and David drove off, just as if he had never been here.

"Hey, you." Zendaya said, going in for a hug. Normally, Tom would have been happy to see her. But this whole situation was so awkward that Tom barely hugged her back, nodding at Darnell and Aubrey. Zendaya flipped her gorgeous hair over her shoulder and brought out a notepad.

"So... guess we should sit down and iron out all the specifics. Aubrey, I can take it from here. Darnell, can you wait over there?" Zendaya pointed to a croft of trees a couple yards away, and Aubrey left set for her car. Tom turned to her and felt a sudden urge to apologize.

"I'm so sorry, Z. I want you to know this was never my first choice, I know how awful it was with all the Tomdaya stuff. This isn't going to make it any easier on us, and things could get pretty ugly." Tom said, kicking a rock with his shoe. Zendaya sighed, but her smile was sincere.

"I know, it's not your fault. But remember, I agreed to this too so you can't take all the blame. It is what it is, this is the life we signed up for. As long as we keep is professional and authentic, we'll be fine. All they want is a show, and we can give that to them. We're trained actors, this is our job." Zendaya laughed, and Tom felt a little better. But the hole in his stomach convinced him that he wasn't over you yet.

"Right, let's write this contract then. We definitely have to keep feelings out of this." Tom started and Zendaya nodded.

"Agreed, even though I feel nothing for you. You're my friend, that's it. We also need a confidentiality clause, we can't tell anyone about this obviously. And very little kissing, of course." Zendaya said. Tom took the notepad and wrote down the clauses carefully and legibly. Usually David handled all the legal paperwork, but Tom felt better knowing he had written this himself.

"And lastly, either of us can terminate the relationship at any time. But said person must notify the other 24 hours before any major event or red carpet occasion. For convenience." Zendaya finished, and Tom wrote down the last clause with a flourish. At the bottom of the note, he drew two lines for their signatures. He offered Zendaya the pen first, and she signed her name in pretty cursive. Tom signed his well enough, and then closed the contract and handed it to Zendaya.

"There, all done. We are officially a couple now." Tom nudged Zendaya lightly and she laughed a little. She would have preferred choosing her own partner, but she couldn't think of that now. Instead, she tried to focus on how lucky she was that she would be "dating" someone she trusted, like Tom.

"Yes, the HMS Tomdaya ship has properly sailed. Brace yourselves, it's going to be a bumpy ride."

[its-sixxers]

Video Game Questionnaire

Tagged by @slothssassin!

Tagging any of y’all hoes (or non hoes) who wanna talk about some got dang VIDYA GAEMS

Rules: Fill in your answers below and tag some buddies!

-Games-

First game you ever played: Pokemon Red on the OG game boy. Hell yeah.

Favorite game: Don’t make me do this. D: Probably a toss up between:  Heroes of Might and Magic III, Knights of the Old Republic (1 and 2), Vampire the Masquerade Bloodlines aaaand Fallout New Vegas.

Game you hated at first but now love: Darkest Dungeon! I found out my gameplay groove and now really really like it. I didn’t hate it before, just found it frustrating.

Game you used to love but now hate: I don’t really hate any game that I used to love (even World of Warcraft), but I can’t ever go back to the Mass Effect Trilogy for reasons that are probably obvious to anyone who’s played it. I got hurt too bad man. :(

actually just recalled and this is gonna be a SPICY opinion: FFXIV. I had a lot of fun with it but the RP scene drove me off really fast. WoW’s Moon Guard gets a lot of shit, but FFXIV was miles worse for general grossness. I don’t begrudge anyone who has fun with the game or RPs in it (there’s a lot of fun lore!) but I don’t have the energy for trying to sift through that amount of nightmare to find like the dozen cool people lol.

Game with the best group/companion(s): This was a hard one. There’s games that have my favorite characters ever but also have some really annoying companions, there’s games with characters I like across the board but the execution is weak. I’m just going to say VTM Bloodlines for easiness’ sake. A great cast and I actually think I like them all for specific reasons. Yes, even Ming Xiao. Maybe especially Ming Xiao, actually.

A game with your favorite ending:  Bloodlines even though I had to turn godmode on for the last combat portions teehee. I just love the twist. :D

A game with the WORST ending: See Mass Effect above. Yes it’s been like a decade, no I’m still not over it.

Best character customization?: HRMST. With mods, Fallout 4. Without - I played Black Desert Online for a whole 3 seconds and it had an insane amount of options but I found it overwhelming lol.

Also putting a cut here cuz long post.

-Hero and Companions-

Your favorite playable character:  Jedi Exile or the Courier.

The funniest playable character: Garrett from the Thief series is a smartass and I love him for it. The Courier also gets some great options, naturally.

Your favorite companion(s): Oh christ here we go. Carth Onasi, Jolee Bindo, HK-47, Atton Rand, Kreia, Bao-Dur, Kaidan Alenko, Garrus, Tali, Wrex, Legion, The Entire New Vegas Gang, Butch DeLoria, Charon, Deacon, Preston.

Companions you could live without: This is a difficult one since even companions I’m not super fond of have their place and purpose in the narrative, usually. I’m going to say G0-T0 and Hanharr from KOTOR 2 as they kept that game from the Best Companions title lol. I don’t play dark side and both of them just felt a little underdeveloped for me.

oh and skadge from SWTOR, fuck skadge

-Relationships-

Favorite game friendship(s): Shepard + everyone, Morrigan and the Female Warden,  Josie + Inquisitor, The Courier + everyone, Sole Survivor + everyone, Female Revan + Bastila, Exile + the new Jedi gang.

Favorite companion banter: This might make me a basic bitch but Deacon. The interplay between goofiness and sadness is just perfect.

A relationship you loved but went bad: Revan and Carth. It went bad because Revan fucked off to the Unknown Regions and left him behind, then we find out why in SWTOR (and they canonize Revan as a dude BOOOO) and it’s dumb lol.

A relationship you weren’t sure of but loved: Kaidan and Shepard when Mass Effect 2 rolled along. Being railroaded into working with Cerberus had me VERY annoyed at the time and Kaidan’s 100% right to also be mad about it so I was like oh god yeah I’d break up too. Mass Effect 2 has the best companions + side story but the worst main quest fight me. (Actually don’t pls)

A character you wish you COULD romance: Let’s list em off, shall we: D E A C O N, Nick Valentine, Glory, Nathaniel Howe, Bao-Dur, Nines Rodriguez, LaCroix, Beckett. Let me do it you cowards.

A minor character you wish could be a companion: Harding in Inquisition, Glory (actually most of the Railroad would be nice), Scout Haylen, Fahrenheit.

-Fun-

Shoutout to a random NPC: All the Jawas in KOTOR I love them. Oh and Officer Chunk in Bloodlines, that stupid, stupid man.

A game you love watching playthroughs for and want to play: I don’t actually seek out more than one let’s play of a game. :V I’d say the old Call of Cthulhu game though - it’s really neat but buggy as all hell and the one time I tried starting it up it ended up breaking real big time. It’s fun to watch people luckier (or more tech competent) than I am play it and I wish I could do the same.

Love watching playthroughs but won’t ever play: My boyfriend and I sometimes do this thing where he’ll stream a game he’s playing and I’ll sit in voice chat with him while I work with the stream in the other screen, so probably the games he’s done there. Most recent ones have been: Metal Gear Solid, FF7 and FF9.

Online gaming or solo?: I looove solo games but I love online more. Being in an LDR, playing games together online is really good. I enjoy having fun with friends, and I also enjoy the competitive aspect that comes along with online games. It really pushes me to be better at things and improve. Usually I’m in some kind of MMO - it’s looking to be WoW for the forseeable future right now. Sometimes I’ll get dragged into games like Planetside or Destiny and have a fun time for a month or two as well. :) I had a ton of fun with Sea of Thieves a few months ago too! Living our Captain Jack fantasy.

Why do you play video games?:  More than ever recently - creative inspiration. I like poking into weird games or games with a really strong art direction or good writing. (EYE Divine Cybermancy, Pathologic, Sunless Seas/Skies, Cultist Simulator, Dishonored, Darkwood, and Darkest Dungeon being a few of them). I also just really like a good story and good characters. Being able to immerse myself in another world is great. I also play them for that little cookie of accomplishment - beating a hard boss (LOOKING AT YOU NAMELESS KING) or figuring out a puzzle (Cultist Simulator is chock full of those) or surviving spookies (Darkwood big time). Video games are great and they hold my attention better than TV or movies as I actually have to engage with them lol.

[mwolf0epsilon]

Out of curiosity, what are your favorite companions out of all of the Fallout games, and why?

Fallout

The Original Dogmeat (After looking into it, it feels like this ornery dog had a lot more personality than the available human companions, enough so that he made a comeback in FO2.)

Fallout 2

Goris (A sentient and intelligent albino deathclaw scholar that wears a robe to hide his appearence from trigger happy assholes. What's not to like? Goris is an interesting character and I hope there will be another deathclaw companion in a future game!)

K-9 the Cyberdog (Cyberdogs are cool. Talking Cyberdogs with good moral compasses? Even better! Super pissed the NCR ended up destroying him to gather Intel on the Enclave. That's something I'd expect from the BoS instead, and it's left a bitter taste in my mouth. Rest in peace you poor pup.)

Fallout 3

Butch Deloria (He was an asshole and a bully during his and the Lone Wanderer's childhood, but you can't deny he isn't loyal to a fault. He's still a bit of an asshole with an unobtainable greaser teen dream, but honestly he's not that bad considering he was neglected as a child thanks to his mother's alcoholism. If you scratch his back he'll definitly scratch yours, even if he pretends he's not a goody-two-shoes like you. Plus he can give you a haircut, who wouldn't want a personal barber out in the Wastes?)

Charon (His situation is an uncomfortable moral conundrum since he's basically a brainwashed slave by anything but name. Oxhorn put it best in his video on Charon's situation, and I agree that the only good thing you can do for him is buying his contract and doing good out in the Capital Wasteland with him as your companion, as a form of atonement for any past shady/cruel actions his former employers have had him perform.)

Fawkes (A super mutant who may or may not have been a man named Shelton Delacroix, Fawkes is unfortunate in the sense that he was alienated by his fellow vault-tec security officers for having a conscience, and then alienated by his super mutant kin for being uniquely intelligent and kind. To add to these tragedies, Shelton was apparently married so Fawkes has a wife he can't recall who is either dead or a mindless super mutant herself.)

Dogmeat the Second (A loyal heterochromatic cattle dog who would fight to the death if just to avenge his fallen master. Dogmeat is a scruffy scavenger and definitly man's best friend. You have to wonder if he might be a descendant of the Original Dogmeat with just how strong his personality comes off. Some dogs in the wasteland are definitely smarter than others.)

Fallout: New Vegas

Arcade Ganoon (A gay mess of a doctor with social anxiety and a lot of personal demons related to his origins. Arcade is an intelligent and interesting character in the sense that he has a deep-seated desire to help everyone, but knows the consequences of one's ideals outgrowing the needs of others. He's grateful to the Enclave Remnants's loyalty to him and his mother, after his father passed away, and he definitly considers them his family. That in itself is an issue because the Enclave's sins will follow and haunt him for the rest of his life, even if he was just born into that life and not one of the people commiting atrocities.)

Craig Boone (His story is the typical wasteland hardened ex-soldier. He committed atrocities that left him mentally scarred and suffering from PTSD, lost his wife who was the only good thing in his life, his need to avenge her has left him dangling between cold-blooded killer and decent human being, and on top of that he's a bit of a cynical asshole. Still a pretty cool companion to have around, and honestly it feels nice to have him around doing some good for the Mojave wasteland instead of stewing in his depression and self-hatred. His sniping skills could help a lot of people with the Courier's encouragement.)

Lily Bowen (She's a super mutant elite spy soldier. She's also a sweet old granny with schizophrenia and a murderous imaginary friend. Lily is another tragic character who's story pulls at your heartstrings, and the three choices regarding her meds are another moral conundrum. Again I'd recommend Oxhorn's video on her story, since I wholly agree with his assessment on what choice is actually the best for her.)

Rex the Cyberdog (His background before he joined the Kings is shrouded in mystery, with the Legion's faded mark painted on his armour platting. Rex is a loyal pup with a hate for rats, hats and people who wear hats. His greatest ire is probably reserved for rats with hats. His recruitment story arc is also pretty interesting and it definitely affects his personality and endings. If you have Old World Blues and construct Roxie the Cyberdog he even becomes a father of a litter of "Boston terrifiers"!)

ED-E (Honestly it's my love for robots that make this little damaged travel companion so appealing. His mission is interesting, and the cashe of Enclave Intel he holds can be benefitial, but most of his endings point to ED-E continuing his journey eventually so there's a sadness with letting this little guy go if you get attached.)

Fallout 4

Preston Garvey (All Preston has ever wanted to do was help make the Commonwealth a better place for people to live in. He's a selfless man who joined a militia at age 17 to do some good, and it honestly breaks my heart that the Minutemen collapsed as hard as it did. Preston had to watch as the ideals of the Minutemen were crushed underfoot by a bunch of selfish assholes, along with an entire settlement of innocent people. He did everything in his power to keep the only four survivors safe and alive, and he's clearly traumatized, depressed and suicidally throwing himself at danger because he'd rather die fighting the good fight than caring for his own safety. He puts everyone else above himself and it infuriates me that people are so hellbent in painting him off as a bland character or a pest. Oxhorn puts it best in his profile of Preston.)

X8-88 (The Institute's top of the line Courser, the closest the Commonwealth will ever get to the Terminator, and livable despite his cynical remarks and persistence that he's incapable of emotions or attachment. It saddens me that X6 is only obtainable if you follow the Institute. It also pains me that if you do manage to befriend him and destroy the Institute, you're destroying this loyal synth's only home. You're basically stripping away everything he knows and believes in, inherently doing what the Institute has done to the Sole Survivor: Taking their life away from them. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth...)

Nick Valentine (Moral conundrums are painful. Ethical conundrums are just as bad. Nick didn't deserve anything that happened to him, and it's obvious he struggles with his identity and purpose but chooses to follow in the Original Nick's footsteps to do some good, rather than hide away and mope. He's a good person overall, even if he's a bit of a smartass sometimes. He's the perfect robodad for anyone in need of a fatherly figure in the Commonwealth.)

John Hancock (This man has a lot of emotional baggage and has made a LOT of bad choices, but if there's anyone you can trust to be loyal and helpful out in the wastes, it's definitly Hancock! His crude humour and liberal use of drugs and knives to deal with his problems can be a bit off-putting, but Hancock will defend you no matter what. Heck, he would even defend Danse from the BoS and the guy's a racist dickbag to him from the very moment they meet. That says a lot about his character.)

Codsworth (He waited for the Sole Survivor to return. For 200 fucking years. Please be kind to him, he's probably one of the nicest companions and also one of the most lovable too! He is the friend you'd wish you had if you ever found yourself in the same situation as the Sole Survivor. Cherish Codsworth, he's all you have left, and he'll protect you to the best of his ability.)

Dogmeat the Third (A brilliant genius dog that is very likely a synth. Dogmeat, like Codsworth, is a lovable guy and should definitely be cherished. I'd recommend getting the "Everyone's Best Friend" Mod so that you can have him travel with you and another companion. It's almost like FO2!)

Deacon (He's intelligent. He's sneaky. He's a pathological liar with good intentions. Deacon is mysterious and charming, and definitly a little fucked in the head. I'd like to meet his plastic surgeon if they can make him flawlessly look like a woman and a ghoul, no questions asked. Oxhorn has a pretty interesting video that explores Deacon's character and intentions, if you're interested!)

Paladin Danse (I'll admit I wasn't all that impressed with Danse when I got my first impression of him. He's rude, he's impatient, he's condescending, and worst of all he is an asshole to anyone just a bit different from him. Still, the plot-twist left space for this racist Buzz Lightyear knockoff to go through some personal growth. The years of militaristic indoctrination will probably take a while to be resolved, but Danse IS redeemable if given time. He's not inherently evil, just in dire need of a tolerance lesson.)

[verai-marcel]

Memory

[Author’s notes: This one ran a little long. But I had an idea and ran with it.]

Adult Male ** Explore ** Wound ** Fantasy 

Written January 2015

The sound of huffing and wheezing echoed through the forest, along with puffs of water vapor rising up into the night. Doyle trudged through the snow, holding his side as he caught his breath before trying to run again. It had been three hours of pure moving, constantly going forward through these dark woods, and he still hadn’t found the clearing he had heard of.

“That’ll teach me to follow a fae’s directions,” he grumbled to himself. “Lousy, tricksy, lying creatures—”

His tirade was cut short as his next step fell through the snow and he tumbled down a hillside that he had not seen. Everything had been so white with snow, and the trees were of such varied heights that the topography was impossible to judge from far away. The forest was getting darker by the minute now, but he had kept moving, knowing that he’d be going in blind. Now he paid the price for his recklessness, rolling down a snow-covered hill in the dark.

He finally slid to a stop at the bottom of the incline, and groaned. His face was up against a pile of snow, his feet pushing against a rock, and his arms were wrapped around him in an attempt to keep from breaking them as he fell. Slowly, he pushed himself up and looked around in the dim light of dusk.

A ring of treetops framed the purple sky, and before him, a clearing. One small stone pillar stood in the middle of the clearing, and if he closed his eyes he could hear a thrumming through the air, unnatural and unnerving.

Doyle took a deep breath and started to walk towards the pillar.

***

Three days ago, Doyle hid underneath his sheets, wondering if he could call out sick. He felt drained of all his energy, like everything he had was being sucked straight out of his skin. He wondered if he had just had a really bad reaction to the eight drinks he had the night before, but he normally had that much alcohol on a Sunday night, so he dismissed that thought quickly. He finally dragged himself out of bed and went to the bathroom to relieve himself.

Afterwards, he showered slowly, hoping the water would refresh his senses and wake him up. But it was to no avail; he still felt dull and fuzzy. Hauling himself out of the shower, he dried off and glanced at himself in the mirror.

He dropped his towel and gawked at his reflection.

Dark lines like spider veins traced from his eyes around his face. It was like some sort of black spiderweb mask, except it was in his skin. The lines continued down his neck, across his chest, and centered around his navel.

“Auuugh!” he yelled, getting closer to the mirror to make sure that he hadn’t just hallucinated this. The worst possible thing had happened to him; he had somehow been chosen. These marks were showing up on mortals living on the East coast of the US, ever since a rift opened in the Atlantic ocean a year ago. Supernatural beings had started pouring through, affecting a few select people with their requests. Doyle didn’t want this; from other accounts in the news and on talk shows, anyone who had the telltale symptoms (tiredness, dark lines on one’s skin) had to fulfill some sort of quest, usually dangerous, with vague directions, and most annoying of all, was supposed to rectify a particular vice of the mortal performing the quest. He hated it. If he wanted to drink eight days a week, he wanted the freedom to do so. No one, supernatural or otherwise, could tell him what to do.

Or so he thought. He also knew the consequences if he didn’t answer the call. When the marks first began showing up, people just went to the hospital. Doctors, with no idea what to do, left them in the hospital for observation. After a few days, under many antipsychotic medications, all patients who didn’t act on their visions would crumble to dust. They literally fell apart and no one knew what to do, until finally, people who survived came forward, telling the world that if this happened to them, they needed to follow their dreams. They needed to heed to call, or they too, would succumb to the dusting, as it began to be called.

Doyle didn’t want to be dusted. He called his work to tell his boss he had the marks, and that he’d be taking an extended leave. His boss was silent for a minute before heaving a loud sigh, and wished him good luck on his quest.

“Please, come back safe,” she had said quietly.

“I’ll do my best, boss.”

***

The past three days had been hell, as he had packed his camping gear and started moving in the direction of his dreams. He had traveled through the Blue Ridge mountains, leaving his car in one of the parking lots on the Blue Ridge Parkway to hike into the forest during the winter. He knew going in winter was a dumb idea, but the fae didn’t care about weather, or whether or not this was convenient for their mortal couriers. Also, since his life was on the line, he wasn’t about to have too many qualms about being cold for a few days, potentially weeks.

If it got to months, like he had heard some people’s quests had been, then he’d seriously reconsider the dusting. Fortunately, it hadn’t been that long.

Doyle reached the pillar and touched the top of it tentatively. A tingling sensation shot through his arm, and he quickly pulled back. He pulled back the sleeve of his jacket, and saw the black veins slowly retreat back from his arm, and then stop, and then it started to return back down his arm. He put his hand back on the pillar and watched the black get chased away once more. He kept his hand on the pillar until the tingling had spread all throughout his entire body. The snow around him began to glow a strange blue tint, but he quickly realized it was just reflecting the light coming from him. He looked at his other hand in wonder, as the veins that were once black were now glowing a silvery blue.

Too busy staring at his hands, he didn’t notice the glowing body floating in front of him until he heard a polite cough. He stared at what he believed was a fae, but looked like a glowing ice sculpture of a woman.

“Humans are silly,” the fae voice from his dreams said, a whispery, feminine voice. “You can remove your hand from the pillar, you have completed your mission.”

Doyle lifted his hand off the pillar and quickly stuffed both his freezing hands into his jacket pockets. “So you’re the one who led me here. Why?”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“No, and neither has the rest of humanity. Why do you do this to us?”

The fae looked a little sad. “We cannot travel through your cities of iron without great injury. So we travel in you.”

Doyle took that information in. “So why do we become dust if we don’t do what you say?”

The sadness in the fae’s eyes grew. “Because we cannot leave a body until it has reached its destination. With so much iron around, we become dust, and thus, our host too, perishes with us.”

“And why haven’t any of your brethren told us that?”

She shrugged. “None of you have asked.”

He slapped his forehead. It was so simple, and yet no one had even thought to ask. “So why haven’t any of you asked us if it’s okay to take over our bodies? We don’t particularly like possession against our will, you know.”

Another shrug. “We cannot communicate with humans until we have, as you say, possessed them. How can we talk to you if we are not within your souls?”

“So you were inside of me?”

“Yes, our souls have touched. I will be with you forever, as you will be with me.”

Doyle didn’t like this at all. The fae, having been inside of him this entire time, smiled.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It is the way of my tribe. In exchange for passage, we lift a burden from you. There are not many more of us now; soon, we will have all left and traveled past the cities of iron into the mountains, and bother humanity no further.”

Doyle raised an eyebrow, but just shrugged. All he wanted to do now was go home and… and what? He didn’t feel that urge to drink any longer; his craving for alcohol had dissipated. He hadn’t noticed when he had gotten possessed, but now that he thought about it, he hadn’t drank a single drop of booze since then. And the reason he drank… mysteriously missing from his memory. The emotions connected to the memory were dampened, like they were on lockdown.

“You took my memories?” he blurted out angrily. “You think that’s supposed to help me?”

The fae nodded. “Do you feel the oppression of those times upon you any longer?”

Doyle shook his head. He didn’t want to admit it, but the pain that had been weighing on him for so long had been lifted. He looked at the fae, really looked at her. And a tear slid from his eye as he realized something that he hadn’t before. All the news reports had glossed over the fact, even mocking those who had experienced the fae and chalking it up to hallucinations, but blog posts and even some of his other acquaintances had mentioned it. He put the pieces together: every person who had been taken by the fae had lost a loved one.

“You look like her.”

The fae nodded. “I know.”

“I should let go now and move on, huh?”

“Yes. This is goodbye, Doyle Campbell. Live well.”

With that, the fae turned away from him and faded into the forest, turning into a small orb of silvery blue light, and sped into the night. Doyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the brisk winter air.

When he opened his eyes, he was back at his car. He wasn’t very surprised; after all, the fae had just lifted a terrible memory from his mind, a memory that had been plaguing him for a year. It wouldn’t be too far from her powers to lift him back to his car.

Looking up at the sky, Doyle smiled. Now his only memories of his wife were of her alive and beautiful.

“Thank you, Lyssa.”

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Robron Week - Day 7

What if...the lodge didn’t happen, and Robert and Chrissie were still together when the helicopter crashed?

Take a chance, make a change

“You don’t have to rush off.” Robert’s leaning back against the headboard, eyes on his phone, hair all over the place thanks to Aaron’s fingers. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Debbie’s wedding remember?” He gulps back the last of his coffee and looks up as he catches Robert’s gaze. “So, where does she think you are this time?”

“Harrogate. Are you free tonight?”

“Never been to a Dingle party have you? Not tonight.”

“Tomorrow then?” He sighed.

“How long is this going on for?”

“Why? You bored already?” He puts his phone down at last, stares right at him, and he almost wishes he wouldn’t because those eyes are addicting and make it very hard to say no to him.

It’s been nine months give or take, nine months of wanting Robert to leave his wife, nine months of secret meetings, looks across the bar. He can’t say he didn’t know what he was getting into but a part of him had hoped Robert would leave Chrissie, despite his assurances he wouldn’t. Maybe that made Aaron an idiot but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t keep away from him.

“You know I’m not, but we both know it can’t go on forever. Maybe you need to finally make up your mind.” He grabs his jeans from the floor, tugging them on.

“Aaron, you know it’s not that simple.”

“It is though. You say you love me, but you won’t leave her. So either you’re lying to me, or there’s somethin’ else going on.” Robert starts to protest but he’s heard it all before. “I don’t have time to hear more excuses Robert. You know what I think.”

“Are you ending it?”

“If I did?” Robert doesn’t answer and Aaron’s knows what would happen. His face says it all. “That’s what I thought.”

He leaves then, because if he stays he knows what will happen, Robert will talk, make it all sound perfect and he’ll fall for it like he had before. It wasn’t that he wanted to end it. It wasn’t like he wanted to settle down particularly, but he’d never liked having to hide. It was too much effort, exhausting some days.

When he gets home his Mum is flitting round the back room, already dressed in her outfit. He doesn’t want to get stopped by her and questioned about where he’d been. She was still convinced he was seeing Robert and there were only so many lies he could tell and keep his conscience happy. She didn’t get it, she didn’t get him. Either of them.

His phone lights up as he’s tying his tie. Robert. He makes himself ignore it. It won’t hurt him to have to wait. Maybe he’ll think on what he said.

There had been days when he’d imagined going up to Home Farm and telling Chrissie everything, in excruciating detail, and ending it that way. Part of him wanted to, every time he thought about all the harsh words Robert had said to him. But there was the other side to Robert, the one that he didn’t let many people see.

He probably thinks Aaron doesn’t notice, but when they risk going out, far from home, he sees the look on his face when no one bats an eyelid at the two of them, and he realises he’s scared.

Aaron knows how that feels, knows what it’s like to have your secret talked about before you’re ready, and as much as he wants Robert for himself, he’s not going to be the one to do make it public.

He’s not really in the mood for a wedding. After all the last one he went to had been Robert’s. He supposed at least he could get drunk. That sounded really good right now, to forget everything for a little while.

His phone lights up again, this time it’s Adam. His mate is going through his own stuff and he feels guilty that maybe he’s not been there as much as he should have been the past few weeks. He texts back telling him to meet him outside the church. If the wedding’s a blow out they can always go into Hotten.

His luck is out and his Mum catches him on his way down the stairs.

“Where were you last night?”

“At a mates like I told you.” He pushes her hand away as she goes to straighten his tie like he’s five years old.

“You’ve acquired a lot of mates just recently haven’t you.”

“I can be a social outcast if you prefer?”

“Hmm, well, as long as it’s just mates that you’re seeing. Victoria told me that Robert’s gone away. On business apparently.” It’s like she can see into his head and he has to fight not to let it show on his face.

“Wow, that’s really front page news. You should call the Courier.”

“Don’t get smart with me! I don’t want you going back there.”

“For the last time I’m not!” She stares at him and he wants to squirm under the scrutiny. She looks away first, looking at her watch.

“We’re going to be late. You go on, I’ve got to check the kitchen.”

He leaves the pub with a sigh, feels guilty for lying but she just doesn’t understand. She doesn’t see the same Robert as he does. The one when they’re alone, when he lets the walls drop. He knows that chances are she never will but he’s spent too long doing things for other people. For as long as it lasts, he’ll make the most of it.

“Oi faceache! What’s the matter with you?” Adam’s slumped on the bench by the church looking miserable. “Is it Vic? Has she changed her mind about everything?”

“No. She’s great.”

“But…”

“It’s not fair is it? Me saddling her with a kid.”

“I’d say she’s made her choice and you know as well as I do that Vic doesn’t do anything she doesn’t want.”

“Look at you with all the advice! What’s got into you?” He shrugs. He hates keeping secrets from Adam, but his mate has a big mouth and it’s too risky.

He’s itching to text Robert back, always has by now, but a part of him wants to make him wait, make him know what it’s like, always waiting for a call or text.

“I hope you’re pleased with yourself!” He looks up to see Rhona glaring at Adam, something about Vanessa leaving.

Sometimes he thinks about leaving, him and Robert, taking off to where no one knows them, start again. It’s a ridiculous dream though.

“I’ve had enough of this. I’ll see you later.” Adam sighs when Rhona’s gone.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Nah mate. I’d rather be on me own.” He slopes off and Aaron checks his phone again before he stuffed in his pocket.

*****

Robert stays in the hotel when Aaron’s gone. He’d told Chrissie he’d be out all day so he can’t go home without awkward questions. He’d wanted to spend the day with Aaron but the blasted wedding had got in the way. He hadn’t been invited, not that he’d expected to be. Debbie was hardly his biggest fan and Pete, well he was alright but he seemed a bit of a bore.

His Dad would’ve liked him, he thinks idly, texting Aaron again. He was frustrated that he’d not answered. He knew he was annoyed, he’d had that look, the same one he always got whenever Chrissie was mentioned. He knew what Aaron wanted, he wanted him all to hisself. Not that Robert didn’t want that, at least a part of him did. He often imagined it. It wasn’t that simple though.

Aaron wouldn’t be the one losing everything, all that he’d worked for the past few years. Maybe it was wrong that he craved success, the money, but he’d spent long enough without either to ever want to go back there.

There was no good way for it to happen. Chrissie would go spare, her chucking him out would be the least of his worries. He’d have nothing, and likely his family would turn their back on him too, like they always did.

He did love her, it wasn’t just about the money like everyone thought. He wasn’t just the trophy husband, that everyone thought he was.. The problem was he’d begun to feel trapped, stifled almost. Living with Lawrence had never been on the agenda and had made everything feel so much worse. He knew he was just waiting for his chance to send Robert packing with a flea in his ear.

All of that he could cope with if he had to, no the real reason why he and Aaron couldn’t be anything more. Every time he imagined it, it all came rushing back. The words, the throbbing bruises that had ached for days, each one a reminder. The look in his Dad’s eyes was the worst though. Disappointment was nothing new, but the look of disgust, that he could never banish from his mind.

He could tell himself he didn’t care all he liked, could pretend he hated his Dad, didn’t care what he thought, when all he’d wanted was him to understand, to listen, to support him, to not make him feel like he’d failed.

All he wanted was to be loved, unconditionally.

He knew he could tell Aaron all of it, he’d understand, he knew that. Aaron hadn’t had it easy either. If he did though, then he’d be making it all real. Once he said it out loud then he had to face it and he wasn’t ready to do that. He didn’t know if he ever would be.

All the others before had never got him like this, but Aaron, he’d got under his skin, pretty much from the moment they’d met, before he even knew there could be a chance.

Everything was such a mess. That at least was something he was good at, he thought bitterly. He couldn’t lose Aaron, he knew that much. They’d been through too much for him to just walk away. He just couldn’t give up Chrissie either.

He texts him one more tie before getting up. He’d go to the scrapyard, maybe there he could get some peace until he could safely go home without getting the third degree.

*****

The office is stifling, but it’s quiet and he manages to clear the paperwork that Aaron and Adam were so fond of leaving to the last minute. He’s almost dozing off in the heat when he hears a crash from outside. Looking out of the window he sees Adam.

“Why aren’t you at the wedding?”

“Not my thing. Vic said you were on business somewhere didn’t she?”

“Got back early. Are you working?”

“May as well shift some of this. Are you gonna help?”

“Nah. Can’t be getting these clothes dirty can I?” He ducks back into the office leaving him to it. They get on well enough but he’s not sure they’ll ever be friends. As long as Vic was happy then he’d leave them be. He’s just about to lock up an hour or so later when he hears a bang and flames shoot up outside the window.

He freezes. All of a sudden he’s fourteen and standing outside the barn listening to his Mum scream. He can almost taste the smoke like he did that night, and his chest feels tight.

“Robert!” The faint shout reaches his ears and it knocks him back to the present. It’s Adam. He manages to make himself move, rushing down the steps, trying not to look at the flames that are far too close for comfort.

“Adam?”

“Here! I’m stuck.” He scrambles over to him, sees him trapped under a heap of metal sheets. “I slipped and this lot came down on me. I was draining the tank of that car and…I don’t know what happened. Somethin’ must’ve sparked.”

When he gets closer he sees that it’s not heavy, it’s just at such an angle that Adam can’t free himself easily. As he finally gets it to budge a little he realises just how close the flames are to reaching the gas tanks stored behind the portacabin.

Adam’s eyes follow his and he starts panicking. “Adam! Look at me. If you panic then I can’t do this. One more try, yeah?”

“You should go.”

“Yeah? You think Aaron would ever forgive me for leaving ya?”

“Not like you’re mates is it?”

“Well this might make him like me a bit more. Now come on. When I shift this, you free your leg. Right, go!”

Someone is clearly looking down on him because this time the metal gives enough for Adam to move and the two of them stumble away. He’s dragging his phone from his pocket when they’re blown backwards by the explosion.

It’s almost in slow motion. There’s more loud bangs and he sees one of the tanks fly into the air. Then he notices the helicopter.

He throws his phone at Adam shouts for him to call 999 and then he runs. He’s far enough away from the village that he sees it, sees the helicopter heading straight for them, the stupid fairground that’s suddenly appeared, the village hall where everyone is partying away.

There’s nothing he can do, there’s no time and he’s no phone to call anyone with. All he can do is watch in horror as the helicopter spins out of control before crashing into the hall.

His heart is beating out of his chest as he runs again. He has to get to them, to Victoria, to Diane.

To Aaron.

He can’t lose him, not now. He just can’t.

As he gets closer he can hear the shouts, the screams and he swallows back his fear, thinking about what he might find. Images of Vic or Aaron’s broken body flash before him and he pushes them away, keeps running.

There’s people and smoke everywhere and the sense of relief when he sees Vic knelt on the ground by the slide, tending to someone he can’t recognise, is so strong it almost stops him in his tracks. He hears her cry out his name and then he’s got her in his arms, never wants to let go, memories stronger than ever again.

“I don’t know what happened. Pete and Debbie were arguing and then…”

“There was an accident, at the yard. Adam’s there.” She grips his arms tightly. “He’s fine, I promise. I left him calling for help. Where’s Diane?”

“I don’t know. Andy’s with the kids at Laurel’s but I haven’t seen Diane.” He feels a flash of guilt that he’d forgotten Andy but he can’t let it linger. He has to know about Aaron.

“Vic. Where’s Aaron?”

“I don’t…he was next to Finn, I think. They were right under…” She trails off and he holds her tight again. He has to be alright, he has to.

“Stay here, alright? Call for help or something., but don’t follow me.”

“Rob, no! You can’t!” She tries clinging to his arm but he shakes her off.

“I have to. You don’t understand. I have to Vic.” He doesn’t give her chance to say anything else, just runs inside.

He can’t see, there’s dust and debris everywhere and sparks shooting from the helicopter lodged in the roof. He can hear someone calling for Pete, James most likely, but all he cares about is getting to Aaron.

A few minutes of fruitless searching later he sees Chas, hair and suit covered in dust and he makes his way over to her.

“Chas! Where’s Aaron?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Is now really the time? Have you seen him? Vic said he was in here.”

“He was with Finn.” She keeps searching, calling his name. “Robert! Here!”

“Aaron!” He’s kneeling by his side before he knows it. He’s face down and he can see his arm is bleeding but not much else. He’s breathing though, that’s the important thing. “We have to get him out.”

“You shouldn’t move him.”

“I’m no expert, but that,” He points up at the wreckage. “Isn’t going to stay there forever and I don’t fancy our chances if it comes down on top of us.”

“Leave then.” He grits his teeth, trying to keep his temper.

“Chas, whatever you think of me, can we put it to one side and focus on Aaron? You can call me whatever you want later.” She grumbles a little but between them they manage to get him outside. Robert can hear the sirens approaching. “Chas, go and get them, tell them he needs help now!”

Thankfully she listens and goes. Robert just looks down at him, brushing the dust off his face, hands finding his hair. “You’re going to be ok. You have to be, you hear?”

He doesn’t let him go until the paramedics are there and he doesn’t go far, stands next to Chas, offering her his coat when he sees she’s shaking.

“You’re back with him, aren’t you?” She hisses as they work on Aaron. He doesn’t answer, there’s no point. “Why can’t you leave him alone?”

“Why do you think? I don’t run into buildings to save just anyone.”

“You expect me to believe you have actual feelings for him?”

“This isn’t the time. I’m coming too.” He says as the paramedics announce they’re leaving.

“Oh no you’re not!”

“Chas, please!”

“Aren’t you worried your secret will be out?” She hisses again, one foot on the step to the ambulance.

“Right now I couldn’t care less. All I care about is knowing that he’s ok.” She must sense he’s sincere because she just gets on and sits down. He follows her, mind too full of worry to actually consider what he’s done.

*****

They have nothing to do but wait at the hospital and he’s never been the most patient man. Chas is the other side of the room throwing glares in his direction in between pacing anxiously.

People come and go and he idly hopes that Diane is ok, but he can’t call because Adam still has his phone. What feels like hours is probably just minutes but when a doctor finally finds them he feels like he’s been sat there for days.

“How is he?” He’s by Chas’s side in seconds as the doctor runs off a list of injuries, most of them minor, but when he says Aaron is still unconscious his head starts spinning.

“But he will wake up?”

“As I said he probably suffered a blow to the head from falling debris and we’ll have to wait and see. The next few hours will tell us more. I’ll send someone to fetch you soon so you can sit with him.”

“You can go now.” Chas spits when they’re alone.

“No. I want to know he’s alright.”

“You heard the doctor.”

“He’s not awake. Look, Chas I know you hate me but I care about Aaron. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Still stringing him along though aren’t you? Him and Chrissie. My son deserves better than you!”

“Why can you never trust him to make his own decisions? He’s not a child anymore.”

“I do trust him. Just not around you.” She stops when she sees a nurse at the door.

“You can see Aaron now, if you’d like.”

“Chas…” He has to see him. There’s no point staying here with her like this, but he has to see him first. “Let me see him. Please, just for a minute. Then I’ll go.”

He can tell how reluctant she is but eventually she nods and he lets the nurse lead them to Aaron’s room. He’s no hope of her letting him in alone but it’s better than nothing. Aaron’s just still and so un-Aaron like that it scares him. He sits by the bed, happier now that he can see him, touch him. He holds on tight to his hand, trying to ignore Chas standing by the door ready to turf him out any second.

“Can’t keep out of trouble, can you? Hmm? If you didn’t want to meet up later, this was a bit extreme.” He laughs a little. “I’m going to go so your Mum can sit with you, but I’ll come back later. I think she might injure me if not.” He gets to his feet, hesitates but leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“Finished?”

“For now. I’ll be back when he’s awake. Chas…I know you hate me, but…when he wakes up, will you call me?” He gets nothing more than a nod and then she’s letting him pass.

He doesn’t know what to do when he leaves the hospital. He feels different, like everything is finally in focus. The prospect of losing Aaron, even if he now knew he’d be fine has made things clear. He can’t keep doing this, things have to change. He’s been kidding himself for too long that he could walk away from Aaron, go back to Chrissie and forget him.

He can’t, not any more.

[paladin-andric]

Heatwave

Hey folks. Thought I’d hammer out a story for everyone real quick, what with the lack of activity and all. This is yet another short set in the modern setting of the world of Deaco, about two pals trying to cope with the worst summer has to offer. This one’s got some Mood Music! Not the mood of the setting per se, but rather the music coming from the TV as the two play the game.

This was definitely not inspired by any personal events, and the video game described is absolutely NOT just a ripoff of Earth Defense Force. Short below the cut.

This is also a bit of an exercise to get back into writing from scratch. I haven’t done much more than edit and rewrite recently.

“For the love of God…”

Michael wiped another sheen of sweat from his forehead, moving it onto his plain white t-shirt, which was already soaked. The young man was sitting in a bedroom, on the floor in front of a large TV. His hair was mopped with sweat, and his eyes were narrowed as he focused on the TV.

The clicking of buttons became louder as he desperately tried to keep up with the challenge in the game. On the screen of the television, two human soldiers with assault rifles and rocket launchers were running through a city, fighting off hordes of dragons and kobolds. Gunfire, explosions and screaming filled the otherwise quiet room.

Beside Michael, a koutu lay in his bed, eyes glazed over. The bird was patterned after a kestrel, with plumage of varying shades of orange, white, black and brown. This was Yawel. Although he looked half-dead, he too was holding a controller, being the other player of this split-screen game of Deacan Defense Force.

There was a third player, but they were found online. The pair were the only ones in the room at the moment. The online player had been cut off and surrounded by a giant horde and was losing health quickly.

“Help me!”

One of the shoutouts available to players, the stranger looked to be near death as his character cried out for aid.

“I’m on my way!”

Michael picked the option from the list of shoutouts and began sprinting through crowds of kobolds, only stopping to turn and fire a few rockets on the way to thin out the hordes.

Yawel groaned audibly, slumped over on his back and lying sideways on his bed. He still looked like he was in a stupor, and Michael could hardly blame him.

The heatwave that had torn through the continent had been especially brutal in the hottest months of summer, and now temperatures were well over a hundred degrees. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem, as the friends had an air conditioner in their bedroom.

Of course, that’s why it just had to break.

The pair had been such good friends throughout their school years that once they graduated, they decided to move out and become roommates. Logic stated that as long as they both had jobs and shared accommodations, they’d save money.

They did of course, but finding work had been pretty tough as of late. Both of them were only able to land jobs as grocers for the time being, so there wasn’t much left over they could afford to waste. That was why they had to share only one air conditioner, and why it was left in the bedroom so that they could keep cool while they played video games.

Now, without that AC, the temperature in the normally comfortable bedroom was bordering on unsafe.

“How about you save ME?” Yawel muttered, barely able to keep playing.

“Huh? You’re good,” Michael responded plainly, continuing to run towards the other player, fighting his way to where the stranger was making their last stand.

“Good?! You call this GOOD?!” the koutu squawked, “I feel like a turkey in the oven!”

A plume of fire swept across the map as one of the dragons attacked the other player. His character let out a wail as he collapsed, last of his health gone.

“Oh, I thought you meant...nevermind. Just hang on, I gotta revive this guy.”

“Aaah, God...how does Rangal live like this?! Shaggy bastard would die!”

A wolfman the pair knew. The three of them were good friends. He lived on the bare essentials. His house lacked many luxuries...including air and heating.

“I actually texted him. He’s in the tub with cold water. That’s how he manages the summers apparently.”

Yawel shook his head. “Nutty. Dunno why he doesn’t just spring for an AC.”

A ping from the game let everyone know Michael had successfully revived the other player. His character was a sallik, one of the lizardmen from the desert land of the far south.

Bet he’s doing just fine in this heat, Michael thought jealously.

Of course he could have just picked a sallik, but Michael tended to assume people picked their actual race when they created characters in these kind of games.

The fact that Yawel played as a human threw that theory for a bit of a loop. He’d always secretly wondered why that was, but ended up deciding he probably liked the stat bonuses better or something. 

“I owe you!” the other player shouted, now back on their feet. Michael smirked and opened the quick chat again.

“No man left behind!”

The ingame radio blared to live with a burst of static.

“Where are the fighters?!” a commander shouted in frustration, “They’re getting chewed up out there!”

“The air force has been intercepted by dragons,” an officer explained, “We’re trying to slip a force through, but it’s gonna take some time.”

“God, damn it!” the commander cried, “Thunder Team! The jets are tied down dogfighting the dragons. You have to hold on a little longer! Stay strong!”

“Are you kidding?!” Yawel croaked, “It’s really not over?!”

Neither of them had gotten this far yet. This mission was so difficult that they’d abandoned their initial goal of beating it together and set up an online lobby to get more players.

Between the blistering heat and knowledge that this length mission still had time to go, Michael felt some resolve sapped from him. “Oh God...this really sucks…”

All the while, the trio were blasting and shooting their way through more hordes of dragons, desperately diving and running behind a new building when the last one got destroyed.

“Where the hell’s Ginit?” Yawel asked, “I’m dying…”

“Should be here really soon,” the human answered.

Ginit was a pseudodragon local to town. She, like most pseudodragons, loved to go around helping out where she could. When the air conditioner broke and the temperature inside quickly leaped into the hundreds, Michael texted a friend of hers and told them his plight.

He thought with her knowing all kinds of magic that there was something she could do. The friend only vaguely answered back that Ginit could help and she’d come over right after she was done delivering a package for someone.

Pseudodragons were natural couriers, with their instinctive spark of joy, desire to help, and ability of flight. Ginit was no different.

“Hopefully she’s done soon,” Michael said with a sigh. The heat was so bad he could swear he saw the air waving in front of the TV slightly.

“Ugghhh...save us…” the koutu grumbled.

Michael wiped another bunch of sweat from his face, some of it sticking to the controller. He made a mental note to wipe the thing down later.

The entire area seemed to radiate heat, and they didn’t have any substitutes for the air conditioner.

“Next paycheck,” the human offered, “We gotta get a fan.”

“Faaaaan? You think a faaaaaan can help with this?”

“Better than nothing.”

“Whatever. I hate this. Once this mission’s over I’m done.”

Michael frowned. “Come on man, I wanna beat the story.” “Naaaaaaw. I’m followin’ ol’ furbutt’s lead and napping in the baaaaaaath.”

The human felt a pang of pity. Poor Yawel sounded delirious, slurring his words with his eyes half closed. The heat must have been even worse with feathers or fur...maybe he was lucky after all…

“Alright man, you do you. Just hang tough for this level, alright?”

“Alright.”

The muted reply made Michael feel even worse. Yawel sounded...defeated. Like he was just doing this because he wanted to help his friend.

“We’re nearly there. I bet this is the last wave.”

The soldiers, two human and one lizard, gathered up and began shooting at the massive swarm of dragons in the sky. As the behemoths flew at them, dozens and dozens of kobolds rushed through the city streets right at them.

In the game, there were so many hordes. Shots and fire were sent the defenders’ way as the sheer volume of creatures overwhelmed them. There were so many the game could barely keep up, dropping frames every second.

“No way. They don’t really expect us to do this, right?!” Michael complained as he lost half his health in a few moments.

Yawel’s soldier fell over dead, hit by dozens of shots from several different angles. He dropped the controller on the bed and sighed.

“It’s impossible.”

“We’re so close...we can’t lose now…”

Just as the human mumbled that, there was a sudden roar overhead. A group of stealth bombers flew by, dropping countless explosive warheads right into the center of the crowded horde of enemies.

Inspiring music began to swell as a massive portion of the enemy army was wiped out immediately. Another soldier came onto the radio.

“Hey there, Thunder Team! Thought we’d drop by and give you a hand.”

“This is Valor Two, entering mission area. We’ll cover you!” another voice called out. As jet fighters began to do strafing runs against the enemies, a fresh squad of AI soldiers moved into the map to reinforce the players.

As all of this was happening, the pair heard a knocking sound behind them. Michael shot up, eyes moving to curtains at the back of the room.

“O-oh, shit, hang on…”

Michael quickly revived Yawel before leaping up and running to the curtains, drawing them away and revealing a massive pair of windows.

Such oversized windows wouldn’t be considered proper for their humble home, especially for their bedroom of all places...but there was a really good reason why they were this way.

So the pseudodragon behind them could get through.

Ginit leaned against the window, the copper-scaled dragon’s snout pressed against the glass as she grinned at the human.

He threw the windows open without a moment's hesitation, returning a grin of his own.

“Michael! Yawel!”

“Ginit!” the human exclaimed, “You’re here!”

“Yes I am!” she beamed, “May I?”

“Please, please, come in!”

The human moved back to his position in front of the TV, sitting down and returning to the game. He didn’t want to be rude to the other player by abandoning them, after all.

“I heard you have AC troubles,” she teased in a sing-song voice. The pseudodragon hopped into the room and jumped onto a plush chair, laying down with her tail hanging over the edge and coming down to the floor.

“Please,” Yawel muttered, “Help us…”

“You can do something about this, right?” Michael asked with a hint of desperation.

“I sure can! Tell me, how long until this issue is resolved?”

“The repairman can’t come until tomorrow,” Michael admitted, “It’s gonna be hell.”

“Not anymore! Check this out…”

Ginit willed out the magic flowing through her, until it filled the room. In a flash, something in the air changed. At first, Michael couldn’t tell what it was, until he noticed something peculiar.

“...it’s getting cooler.”

The temperature kept dropping, and dropping, until it felt downright cold, like the AC was on full blast.

“A-ah, God. It’s so cool…”

Yawel seemed to spring back to life, eyes shooting wide open as he took a deep breath.

“I-it’s amazing! Ginit, what are you doing?!”

“Just a little spell that lets me control the temperature around me!” the pseudodragon said with a big smile, “Now it’s like you don’t even need the air conditioner!”

A loud explosion signaled the death of the last dragon, the city in the game now completely free of enemies. The players all spammed chat commands as the mission complete screen popped up.

“DDF! DDF!”

“We did it!”

“Great work!”

All the soldiers cheered and celebrated as the harrowing mission at last came to a close. Now Michael and Yawin could finally continue with the campaign.

The game was over, and the trio sitting in the room basked in the coolness of the air. Michael said goodbye to the other player and turned the game off. He closed the windows and sat back down.

For the next hour or so, they could just relax. Get all that sweat and heat off and gone while they recovered from the heatwave.

Yawel looked over at Ginit. “Hey...how long can you stay?”

“You said the repairman will come tomorrow, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well then...I’ll stay the night! Until it’s all fixed up!”

“W-what?!”

“Yeah! It’s been too long since we’ve met, anyway! I’ve been looking forward to spending some time with my friends!”

Michael smiled. “Ah, hell. You’re a lifesaver, Ginit.”

“Don’t mention it!”

For the rest of the day, and into the night, the blistering heatwave was but a faint memory. The trio talked, ate and laughed, swapping tall tales and playing guessing games together.

For a moment, all the troubles of the world ceased. There was only home, comfort, and the unbroken bonds of friendship forged to last a lifetime.

Tag list: @thereisnothingwrongwithbeingmad, @lady-redshield-writes, @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword, @sheralynnramsey, @tawnywrites, @writer-on-time, @oceanwriter, @zwergis-spilledink, @fluffpiggy, @elliewritesfantasy, @homesteadchronicles, @laurenwastestimewriting, @elaynab-writing, @the-ichor-of-ruination, @candy687, @fierywords, @shewrites-sometimes, @nerds-and-nebulae

[areyouscarletcold]

“I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.” + hmm... constangreen?

Slight warning for implied homophobia and injuries.

31. “I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

The door flew open before Gary could grab the handle and he nearly got smacked in the head had he not jumped back in time (he’d deny any squeak that left him later on, no matter how hard he was teased about it). Gary frowned and looked up to snap at the trespasser, because really, he was just about to open that and yes, it was pouring but they couldn’t have waited -

Then he realized who he was glaring at and his stomach dropped.

John - Constantine, it was easier to think of him by his surname, to forget every memory that ached because of it - had the decency to grimace and look sheepish at the very least. He also bore a black eye, though, so maybe he was wincing from the pain. “Sorry to drop in you, mate.”

“Did you really walk all the way here in the rain?”

Constantine glanced down at his soaked clothes, most of which Gary had to look away from because of…well, how see-through they’d become. “Not too far from the ol’ Bureau. Raining cats and dogs out there, though, I’ll admit.”

Right. He’d hoped the Legends would be too busy to do any check-ins, as selfish as it sounded.

Or maybe they’d been back for a bit and Ava just hadn’t bothered to tell him.

(Or she’d hoped John - Constantine wouldn’t bother visiting Gary. Ava was surprisingly sympathetic about his moping. Though, now that he thought about it, that might’ve had to do with her ever-persisting distaste for the warlock.)

“Did Director Sharpe punch you or…?”

Constantine laughed, grin a little strained, and Gary’s heart ached at the familiarity of the sound. “No, though I’m sure she’d love to. Went out drinking a bit ago.”

“What does that have to - Wait. You’re drunk?”

“Relax, squire,” Gary swallowed hard and he was pretty sure Constantine watched the movement. Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Dammit, Gary. “Only had two. I know my limit. Now, I hate to darken your doorstep but…” Constantine nodded behind Gary, a curious tilt to his head.

This…was a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

He could practically hear Ava’s disapproval resonating within his mind, her sigh echoing the longer he hesitated.

Gary moved to the side so Constantine could pass and resisted a sigh of his own. “I’ve got clothes in the closet if you need to change. I don’t know how you’re not shivering right now.”

“Thick skin,” Constantine teased, but he wasted no time in shucking off his shirt - to which Gary again averted his gaze because he was weak, okay? - and moving to Gary’s bedroom. The fact that he still knew where it was made Gary…

To be honest, he didn’t know how he felt about that.

(That wasn’t true. He knew exactly how he felt.)

Gary shut the door and his eyes, burying his face in his hands despite how his glasses dug into the sides of his palms. He should’ve pretended he wasn’t home, or maybe accepted Nate’s tentative invitation to dinner with his family tonight. Anything would be better than having to care for his ex.

Or whatever they were. After all, it wasn’t like they’d had a label. Gary wasn’t silly enough to kid himself into believing they were anything special.

Not now, anyway.

Constantine returned five minutes later with his soaked clothes in his arms, running a hand through his hair. Yet another bullet to the chest: did Constantine even realize he was wearing Gary’s favorite sweatshirt?

(Yes, Ava would definitely be sighing right now if she could hear his thoughts.)

“Thanks, squire.” Constantine flashed him a grin, though it was still tight and more tentative this time. Part of Gary, the pettier part, felt a bit vindicated and hissed Good.

At least he wasn’t the only one suffering here. Even if it was a different kind of suffering, perhaps.

Gary cleared his throat and folded his arms over his chest so Constantine couldn’t see his twitching fingers. “Uh, no problem. Really, it’s no problem. I can get something for your eye - ”

“There’s no need for that.”

Gary scoffed before he could stop himself. “Your eye is turning purple. You have to let me put ice on it or let me use the courier to take you back to the Waverider so Gideon can treat it.”

“I’ve had worse blows, mate, don’t worry about it.”

“In this weather, you’re not going anywhere,” Gary pointed out. “Just let me get some ice and I’ll - I’ll be out of your hair.”

Constantine’s brow began to furrow, though Gary couldn’t read the look on his face. Unsurprising, given how much of a closed book he was to the world.

Even while they’d been…whatever they’d been doing. Or were. Gary had been sure that Jo - Constantine would eventually open up; there’d been signs and he’d been so hopeful -

He shoved those thoughts into a safe in the back of his mind and locked the safe before he could dwell on them further. Constantine was still watching him with that weird look.

“I’ll go get the ice,” Gary muttered and he darted off before the warlock could object again.

Thankfully, the first aid kit was still under the sink where he’d left it and the pack was still in the freezer. He was in no mood to go hunting around the apartment. 

The perks of having a dangerous, life-threatening, time-traveling job, he supposed. You knew exactly where the medical supplies were.

Constantine was unusually quiet when Gary came back and handed him the pack. He didn’t even protest when Gary insisted on looking over the eye just in case, though he did assure him that he wasn’t hurt elsewhere.

“Did you get into a bar fight?” Again, Gary couldn’t help but add internally.

“Nah. I was, ah,” Constantine didn’t meet his gaze and Gary’s insides churned before the words even left his lips, “the bloke I came onto wasn’t very appreciative of my efforts.”

He knew he didn’t school his expression in time when Constantine glanced back, but Gary tried regardless to appear indifferent. “Ah.”

“Hence my quick retreat.”

“Yeah, that…that makes sense.”

Gary stepped back and reached for the first aid kit, maybe because he needed something else to look at, maybe because he hated the way everything just hurt, but a hand landed on his and he couldn’t stop himself from freezing.

“You alright there, Gary?”

The sound of his name, so soft and uncertain and unlike John - Constantine, dammit - caused something to spark and Gary met his eyes with a clenched jaw from the effort it took not to snap. Constantine seemed to see the intent still and his mouth twisted.

“Right.” The man nodded to himself. “Tad insensitive on my part.”

“You think?” The words were out before he thought twice and he could feel his face warm.

Constantine snorted and for some reason, the sound attempted to ease his heartache. “Didn’t have to guess. Was written all over your face the moment you saw me.”

Of course. Gary jerked his hand away - why, oh why had he let himself linger? He told himself the flicker in Constantine’s eyes wasn’t disappointment or…

Whatever. It was whatever, right?

“I can go if I’m intruding.” The warlock’s voice brought him back to reality and Gary huffed.

“You’re hurt, you can’t go out there in the pouring rain. Besides, if you came here, you probably came from the bar down the street. Right?” Constantine remained silent, which he took as confirmation. “Whoever you pissed off could be leaving soon or be waiting or… I don’t know.”

“Probably won’t be. Looked more interested in the lady serving him.”

“Oh.” He felt the odd urge to blush. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault. None of this is.”

He hated how contrite Constantine sounded. Gary forced himself to meet the other’s gaze and his heart leapt at how far forward Constantine was leaning, the intense scrutiny in his eyes.

“Right. Because it’s yours for being ‘yourself’, as you put it when you - ?” Gary swallowed as Constantine frowned, looking more than a little taken aback. Somehow it gave him the courage to continue, cruel as it felt. “Like you said when you said we couldn’t see each other? Or is it because you’re ‘a damn cannon waiting to go off’ and you’re trying to prove it tonight?”

“That’s not - ”

“Then why are you here? Why out for a drink here when you could go to London or France or - or anywhere else that’s not here? I’m sure Captain Lance would’ve gladly given you some from that stash I know she has that she made me promise not to tell Director Sharpe about. Why did you need to come here when you could’ve just - ”

“I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

Gary…

Gary couldn’t have heard that right.

The longer he stared at Constantine’s face, the more he felt ill. No, sleep-deprived, that had to be it. He was overworked, overtired, maybe he’d fallen asleep on his desk and -

Constantine shut his eyes and an uncharacteristic melancholy painted his features in broad brush strokes, like the tragic subject of a Van Gogh painting. He lowered the ice pack from his eye and winced. “I thought it’d make things easier to pretend. Cuz yeah, I’m a damn fool. Even Sara’s been a nag about it.”

“Pretend…” Gary searched Constantine’s face for any sign of a prank, some kind of ruse or indication he was dreaming, but there was none. “What do you mean? You told me…”

“I got - I got scared, love.” The endearment did not make his heart skip a beat, no matter what any romcoms he’d watched may have suggested on the matter. “It’s complicated. Demons and hell and…well, all the things you never signed up for. It’s hard to explain in one night, but I lost someone. Someone I thought I could get over this with.” Constantine - John, who was he kidding - waggled a finger between their chests. “And I didn’t want the same to happen to you and… I ran. Like I always do.”

“You…” He stepped forward as John ducked his head, face screwed up into a wretched expression. Was it wrong to hope? “You got scared.”

“Happens to the best of us. Or worst of us, depending on how you look at it.”

Gary laughed. He didn’t stifle the sound, didn’t bother pretending he coughed, he just laughed, a short burst that made John’s eyes snap up in confusion. The sight made him laugh again and he had to hold up a hand so John didn’t question his sanity. “No, it’s fine, I just - I just… Really? You, the greatest warlock I’ve ever met, despite all your moaning and griping and - really? You got scared of me? That’s - literally no one has ever been terrified of me before.”

John’s lips quirked up. “Well, congratulations.”

“I’m not sure whether I should feel happy or relieved or angry right now,” Gary admitted, bringing his hands to the back of his neck so they had something to hold. “Mostly the last two - well, more relieved, I think - ”

“Hang on,” John said, holding up his hand. “I meant what I said. I’m still - ”

“A cannon about to go off? A mistake?”

John winced. “Yeah. That. Not to mention the whole ‘soul going to hell’ ordeal and demons and the lot.”

Gary couldn’t find it in him to care. He lowered his hands and shook his head. “I’ve known who you were since we met. I think we’re past that.”

“I’ve done some terrible things, love.”

“Hasn’t everyone?”

John’s face darkened. “Terrible as in hellish. And they’re coming back to haunt me.”

“We already dealt with demons before,” Gary reminded him. “And dragons and fairies and other magical creatures we now have to take care of or banish at the Time Bureau. This won’t be any different.”

John still didn’t look pleased. Gary sucked in a deep breath and extended his hand to the man’s free one, wiggling his fingers when John hesitated.

“Can’t we at least try?” Gary asked.

And maybe it was the optimist in him, or the part just waiting to get crushed under heartbreak once more, but he had a good feeling when John gave in with a small smirk and intertwined their fingers together.

50 Dialogue Prompts

[crqstalite]

pt. 9, into the lion’s den pt. 2 (andronikos && mierrio)

mierrio and tri’ama have arrived on the scene, but not exactly on good terms with each other. what kind of shenanigans will they get up to this time?

psa: i love my imperial toons but one thing they all have in common is some sort of abusive backstory. it’s like a requirement to be part of the empire and it was never intended.

another psa: pretta n kal were made for the sole purpose of romancing theron (kal at least).

another psa: fandom, please write more andronikos fanfictions. i would do it myself but then all of tumblr would know of my insane exploits with mierrio n her pirate husband. i’m deprived of them n i need them now. ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

character song: truth hurts, lizzo

character file: darth nox, mierrio revel

-

“i always did hate alderaan.” ashara shivers as she pulls her robes over her tighter. mierrio would have to get the fury’s temperature regulator fixed, and soon. hopefully, that was one of andronikos’ talents, because the three humans (and one non-human) suffered through the cold nights, unlike the nearly silent kaleesh and dashade.“now we have to stay here?”

“if it bothers you so much, bulk up on thermal clothing.” mierrio says, putting on her own thermal coat. force user or not, darth nox wasn’t exactly made for the cold, and she secretly despises this trip just as much as her apprentice does. given, she and her husband did all sorts of things that could get her blood rushing, whether in the bedroom or on the battlefield, and considering they were on a war-filled planet (political and physical), she’d get plenty of both. she smirked before hiding it behind a cough at the thought. “it’s only for a week.”

“plus, you’ll be on the fury most of the time anyways.” talos says absentmindedly, researching something while khem val milled around the cargo hold before disappearing into the darkness. talos side steps the kaleesh as he passes by with some sort of ancient tablet, muttering something in anothr language. “we both will.”

“i figure that, but if i ever need anything i’ll have to leave the ship.” the togruta responds, groaning inwardly. “why are we here again?”

“peace talks, or somethin’. you two are lucky, you’re not the escort.” andronikos responds from the sofa. “dealin’ with sith day in and day out, questionin’ why ‘someone like you’ is with a dark council member.” he shrugs as mierrio considers this. he’s not inaccurate, though she figures it something she needs to take up with her fellow sith. her pirate, her rules, and they didn’t get a say in who she chose to love. not when she was one of the most powerful sith in the room. “when are we leaving, by the way?” he asks, turning to her.

“we can leave now, they have our room ready.” she says. subsequently, he gets up as she picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder. she really should tie her hair up, it’s getting annoyingly long so that it hangs in front of her face if she bends over to tie her boots. however, mierrio is also aware of just how childish it looks tying up the baby hairs in the back, and chooses to suffer instead. letting the bridge down, she steps out into the spaceport’s spacious hangar. ashara isn’t wrong, it’s relatively chilly even through her coat. but, alderaan is absolutely beautiful as long as you’re not in a warzone. she intends to visit any vacation spot she can while on this godforsaken trip.

a few moments later as she scrolls through her datapad (the details give her a headache, if the wrath wasn’t also attending, she might as well skip out completely), she feels an arm snake around her waist as she stumbles backwards into her husband’s arms. “we’re really headin’ into the lion’s den, huh sith?” he asks after helping her stand straight, they begin walking in the direction of the elevator.

“are you scared, andronikos?” she asks, curving her lip upwards in a barely concealed smile. she’s completely aware of what her so called 'kind’ can do, especially to someone as force blind as her husband. they aren’t feared by the republic for nothing.“what’s the worst they can do?”

he doesn’t seem amused as she runs a hand through her hair, slipping the datapad back into her bag among her other things. “uh, sith? did you miss the whole 'force sensitive’ and 'could murder me with a pinky?’ part?”

“i haven’t killed you yet.” she says, leaning her head into the crook of his neck as they enter the elevator. he rolls his dark colored eyes good naturedly as she chuckles to herself. she couldn’t ever imagine lying a hand on her husband. well, she could, they sparred from time to time (she of course, gained the upper hand nearly instantly. but sometimes he played dirty in the best ways, in which she’d have to call a draw), but in a real fight she’d never do so. seeing a look of genuine terror from him was something mierrio had yet to witness.

“yet?” he asks, mock concerned as he puts a hand on his chest. “what, you plannin’ this pirate’s death already?”

“i’d never.” mierrio responds jokingly, stepping out of the elevator into the busy atrium of the alderaanian spaceport. “and should they lay a hand upon you, i shall show them why i am darth nox.” she gives him what she attempts to make a comforting smile that turns into an ill-intended smirk. nobles mill about as they make their way outside, dressed in an array of colors and array of styles, and she makes a mental note to do some shopping before they leave. andronikos doesn’t see, but her heart nearly stops as she witnesses a human with what seems as a stick in his hands ten or so feet away. three females follow close behind, and she’s halfway to shocking the man once she realizes that the silver metal sticking out of one of the women’s collars is none other than a shock collar. her delicate hands go for her own neck as the red twi'lek woman stops to look at her, staring out over the crowd. there’s inelligible yelling for a moment before she collapses to the ground in uncontrollable shaking and mierrio’s breath hitches.

“mier?” andronikos puts a hand on her shoulder as she jolts her attention back to the issue at hand. the twi'lek woman and her captor disappear into the background of the taxi pad, and in a moment of fear, her hand goes for her lightsaber and another hand on andronikos’.

“i-i’m fine.” her voice hardens unintentionally, once she catches his eye, loosening her grip on her lightsaber. sparks fly for a moment as she buries her hands in her coat, anger flowing through her veins for the young woman in physical and metaphorical chains. she had just been talking about wounding andronikos, nearly shocking him in her panic. “just fine.”

the dark skinned pirate looks at her in mild confusion and then concern. his gaze meets where hers had been, but he didn’t catch the slavemaster or didn’t say anything. shrugging, he pays for their taxi and they’re off across the plains of kaamos territory. he’s talking, but it keeps getting swept away by not only the wind, but also her own intrusive thoughts.

mierrio wasn’t a slave without scars. electrocution wasn’t unusual, and the skin on her neck reflects it. purple veins run along her throat, and though they’ve faded, some have alluded to her that they flare when she uses high voltage.

the weight of the collar, the chance of being put back into one of those things. the breath that is stolen from her when electricity flows through her veins.

the body of her previous master, after she turned it on him. after a particular electrocution event on balmorra with an imperial officer, in two seconds flat purple lightning escaped her fingertips. he writhed on the floor, gasping out for help as he took his dying breaths. she, of course, stole his jacket to warm her cold body in the outpost of sobrik, her fifteen year old self playing with the shiny medals that adorned his jacket as the last of life left his body.

at least until the mysterious sith came for her, as she ate the last box of chocolate the man had stashed away for his whore of a wife. three days, she’d stayed there, afraid should anyone know of her crime that they’d kill her. turn her into a prison, torture her.

she was still scared of herself, as sparks leapt from her fingers every once in a while.

someone had turned her in as a force sensitive, and years later, she suspected it was the officer or as previously mentioned, his wife. the cameras had watched her every move for years, it was hard to believe they weren’t watching then.

the teenage inquisitor hadn’t understood what she’d done, the man she had killed. she was free of this master, for good. mierrio hadn’t known she was force sensitive, she didn’t know just how powerful she was. what lurked just beneath the surface of her dark intentions, a mystical force bubbling up through her fingers.

even so, it’s not as if she can escape her past. this is who she is, and she doesn’t intend to let anyone put another leash on her. metaphorical, or physical.

she must look so absolutely angry that andronikos stops talking after a while. he’s gotten good at that, knowing when sometime is a bad time. as it stands, he’s recognized this time as one, though she’s sure he’ll want to know what’s wrong with her once they get to their room in the palace. over the nice temperature regulated bedroom and changed into a nice set of pajamas, she’s sure she’ll admit to whatever she’s feeling at the moment. but the cool wind whips her chapped lips, and she returns to the issue at hand. thul peace talks.

eventually, they land in the palace courtyard. the scene isn’t much different from the spaceport, except much, much busier. dark robes brush by as her boots crunch in the snow. she figures other sith lords have arrived before she has (of course, a fashionably late interest is the usual for darth nox). she looks around for a moment as she unbuckles her belt, andronikos stepping out of the taxi.

and, a certain blonde sith is waiting  by the courier droid with her name written out. mierrio groans in annoyance, as the wrath shifts her position to cross her arms. respirator, boots and all, she stands at a haughty 5"6 draped in black armor, three inches taller than her. she allows andronikos to take her hand and help her out of the taxi as the droid takes their bags, standing face to face with the imposing female. “my lord.” the blonde sith curtly nods.

“wrath.” she says just as coldly. mierrio hadn’t had many good interactions with a lot of sith on the council (nor a lot of interactions, like a certain darth hexid she prefers the finer things in life instead of the general stupidity and betrayal of the council), and the wrath happened to be one of them. insanely powerful with the force (though not a sorceror), the wrath was apparently a shoo in at the academy, and was an apprentice of the late darth baras.

and subsequently, his killer.

many assumed that she was a man, given her strong stature and less, say, assets in the female department. however, those who had come into contact with the brutish warrior had quickly fallen back on their gender-lined insults. funnily enough, she was eventually married to none other than an intelligence agent, even though some lower ranked sith lords assumed she was a butch lesbian due to her personality and the fact she never lasted in relationships with men. they placed bets on how long they would last, and mierrio was still collecting on the bets they’d last only for a few weeks at best. it’d been four years.

and, at the end of it all, she had the audacity to be merciful. merciful to those that didn’t deserve it. what sith would be such a way? and why? why have so much power, and not use it to instill fear into the galaxy?

given, this was all based off gossip, but she often didn’t have much else to be doing, so it entertained her to an extent. well, most of it was. she’d been assigned to a post with the wrath on taris, and she disapproved of every choice she made. for quite a bit, she made it her mission to corrupt ashara just to spite the merciful sith lord. it was somewhat successful, though her corruption only went as far as to be a 'grey jedi’.

to rub it in, down the grapevine she found that the wrath had managed to corrupt a jedi padawan to the dark side. successfully, and with little resistance! kriffing hell, mierrio was just that sure she’d only done it to spite her.

“your room has been prepared for your stay. i have been assigned to escort you to the palace.” the woman says, garbled a bit through her respirator. mierrio had yet to find out why she wore the thing (it was an ugly shade of grey and black with highlights of red, and she wasn’t suffering from some uncurable cancer eating away at her lungs), but possibly she wore it as a decorative piece. there were no current family members (other than a certain malavai quinn) related to the wrath, so it was most definitely not ornamental.

and how she knew? well, the family of the wrath would be well compensated, given their daughter having such a high rank in the sith order. they’d be public by now. and they’re not.

“thank you, wrath. but i did not need an escort into the palace, i’ve been here before.” she responds, hooking her arm onto andronikos’. “i’m sure you have something else to be bothering yourself with, so get on with it.”

“..of course, my lord.” the colbalt blue eyes harden into that of dark sapphire (a sign of her unwilling submission) as mierrio passes. the wrath crosses her arms before heading back the other direction.

“you want to talk about that?” andronikos asks as she pulls him along inside the palace, a bit more forcefully than intended, “i thought all you sith were chummy with each other.”

“darth thanaton?” she raises an eyebrow once she lets go of his arm, pushing a curl of dark hair behind her ear as she sheds her thermal coat. “andronikos, unlike the jedi council, we do not do 'friends’. we make alliances to better our power bases, and the wrath is on my list of people i want no alliance with.”

“got a reason? he seems nice enough.” there’s a groan of possible jealousy behind that she chooses to ignore, as he misgenders the sith, “given, not every man is as nice as me.”

“that was not a 'he’, that is the emperor’s wrath.” she responds, as they wade through the crowded lobby. it seems as if every servant in the palace has come down to gawk at the arriving sith lords, and she unintentionally picks up the pace to hurry to the elevator. it’s not until her boots are clicking on the polished floor of the relatively quiet third floor that she slows down.

“what’s got your panties in a twist, mier? did she do something to you?” he asks, as the enter the finely decorated room. locking the door behind her, he sheds his own coat as her fingers tap over the electronic thermostat. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you receive a sith so badly.”

“that’s because i rarely 'receive’ sith unless i need to. are you not aware of the lack of sith we visit?” she asks, as she stretches a crick out of her neck, skipping his unanswered question. it’s not long before andronikos descends upon her, arms wrapped around her waist as he nips at the exposed skin of her neck as she pushes her hair to the opposite side of her head. “don’t fret, i’ve only ever had eyes for you.”

“glad to hear it.” his voice grows husky as she turns to face him, kissing him roughly. she’s not per se calmer than she was before landing or arriving to the palace (andronikos sadly doesn’t always have that effect on her), but the rush of endorphins is enough to forget the day’s earlier events. “hate to think there’s someone else out there with eyes for you.”

“i’ll always belong to you, first and foremost.” as the words leave her lips, she regrets them. mierrio despises the idea of ever 'belonging’ to someone ever again. she’d like to say that it doesn’t apply to andronikos, that’s he’s her one, handsome exception.

but he’s not. she’s terrified she’s going to wake up one day and she’s going to be married to a man who would take advantage of her at every turn. that this marriage is going to turn into a relationship of abuse.

although they both have issues with commitment, she lets the moment happen. he must notice her hesitation, because he doesn’t press any further. "nikky, as much as i love you, i do have responsibilities to the council. i’ve arrived late as it is.“

he mock whines, not letting her go, but allowing her enough space to lean her forehead to his. "it’s the middle of the afternoon, what do you mean sith?”

“we’re nearly two days late. we should’ve left a couple of days ago, hence why the wrath came to get us.” she responds. “peace talks have already begun, and to be honest, i would’ve skipped it if darth vowrawn didn’t send me a nice holo saying i should be here already.” he seemed quite stern with her when the recorded holo was sent, and she figured it wasn’t worth losing her council seat if she had to spend a few days on the wartorn planet. what could she say? being a darth who not only rid the galaxy of a body-hopping sith, but also thanaton? she liked the perks that came with being feared.

“alright, alright.” he lets go of her, a mischeveous grin on her face. “doesn’t mean you’re leaving me here all by my lonesome tonight, right mier?”

“alderaan has some beautiful sights, we can visit the market tonight, then the cantina.” he seems confused by her answer as she winces trying to undo her bra from under her shirt. “then, we’ll see what this bed can handle.”

he chuckles. “alright sith. arm still bothering you?”

“oh, how did you know?” she asks, frowning. she’d worn the lacy thing on the flight down with no intention of actually taking it off, but she figured if she were going to a peace talk meeting, she’d like it plenty better if her breasts weren’t constantly chafing on the old lingerie. “would you unhook it for me?”

“don’t have to ask me twice.”

-

she ended up twenty minutes late for the next portion of the peace talks, but a lot happier than she would’ve been should she not have taken a pit stop in her bedroom before coming to conference room. sith outside whispered here and there, and of course the thul nobles were nothing short of oblivious as she arrived. choosing a seat next to an empty seat, everyone quieted. “nox, it’s good to see you here.” a silent 'finally’ was aired at the end of vowran’s sentence.

“of course. i would never miss such an important meeting.” she smiles knowingly as the other sith frowns.

“well, we were just discussing your portion of earning thul’s trust.” ravage responds, picking up the awkwardly finished conversation. “as darth of ancient knowledge, you’ll be assisting them with the damages caused by a certain…bounty hunter years prior. identify what you can, as others have mentioned they can sense a datacron in the area.”

her ears perk up. a datacron? given, she’s never had the best luck with ancient artifiacts (see: zash, talos, force ghosts trying to take over her body etc, etc.), but to gain ancient knowledge is absolutely fascinating. she’s not looking for another tenant in her body, but possibly this one will be friendly. “show alde’s curators you’re willing to help them, and forge an alliance with them if you can.”

“great.” she sits a bit straighter, assignment gained. now she can go and spend the rest of the night very far from here. “can i leave now?”

“the wrath hasn’t arrived.” her mood drops considerably at the mention of the female sith, who is just perfectly, missing at the moment. her eye twitches at the thought.

“the wrath? what does she have to do with this?” she chuckles coldly.

“why, she’ll be assisting you with this mission. you specialize in ancient history, and if your reputation does not precede you, then the wrath will strike some much needed fear into them.” vowran finishes. mierrio is quite sure that he knows of their unofficial rivalry, and is pitting them against each other.

“finding a datacron? is that what i heard you say?” it’s twitching, it’s most definitely twitching as she turns to see the blonde sith walk inside, blue eyes twinkling with mischief as she sits down in the chair next to her. “it sounds like a wonderful assignment, vowran.”

they discuss back and forth their current plans as mierrio counts down the seconds until she can escape the dark and stuffy room. usually she feeds off the dark energy she gains by just being around the dark council’s chambers on korriban, but she just feels nauseously full. it’s not too much to handle, it’s just not wanted.

when they do finally break for an intermission, she’s considering leaving and not coming back. however, she is no match for the wrath’s 5"6 frame, as she easily catches up with her, voice cool and smooth. as kriffing always. “nox, leaving so early?”

“might as well throw myself out the airlock. datacron or not, i don’t intend to spend these peace talks playing matchmaker with you.” she continues walking, speeding up her pace as the wrath only lengthens her stride.

“i think it will be a wonderful excursion, nox.” mierrio can’t tell whether she’s smiling or not (she’s still wearing that damned respirator), “alderaan is so nice this time of year, don’t you believe?”

mierrio takes a sharp turn around a corner and unknowingly underneath a low-hanging sign for the cantina nearby. the only stops walking when she hears a loud bang from behind her. whirling around, she smirks as the wrath recoils. she’s hit the top of her head against the bottom of the sign, leaving a nasty red bruise that she quickly covers with her blonde bangs. “let’s see who has the last laugh, wrath.” she says over her shoulder, intending to continue further down the hall. she’ll answer that question, mierrio always has the last laugh. she wasn’t fatally wounded after their battle on corellia, she was part of the dark council long before the wrath ascended to her seat after murdering baras. and of course, mierrio came from so much less and was so much more powerful.

“do you know who i am?” mierrio tries to resist, she really does, but her throat closes as she gasps for air. barely able to turn her head in the desolate hallway, the wrath walks closer to her. “i am a fine tuned killing machine, and i serve the emperor. whether you believe he is an absent landlord or whatnot, you will respect me, nox.”

mierrio hangs there for a second, trying not to panic as tears almost well up in her eyes as she struggles against the metaphorical fist choking her. too many memories flood back from the major choking her as a child, his rough, gloved hands around her neck. the red handmarks he and his wife would leave when they abused her. “understood?”

she refuses to nod, which earns the cocking of an eyebrow from the wrath. “call me power-hungry or arrogant, sure. but i think this is where your path ends, nox. you’re at my mercy, i could snap your neck now and i could get away with it because no one would dare challenge the emperor’s wrath. you were a lowly slave before this, weren’t you?” she pauses, then paces back in the direction she came, colbalt blue eyes hardening, never leaving hers. “so you understand servitude just fine. i suggest you learn your place here and now, before we have another spat like we did on corellia.”

she tightens her grip as mierrio scrapes at her throat, air unable to escape as she coughs. “i can’t say it’s good knowing you, nox. you’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side for the last few years.” rolling her own neck, the wrath chooses a spot in front of her to intimidatingly stand before dropping her to the ground. “dark council member or not, you got here through murder. that doesn’t mean you have the talent or the know-how to stay this way.”

“w-would you s-shut your m-mouth? i can smell the kriffing shit from here.” mierrio responds cheekily as the wrath’s eyebrows raise in surprise and possibly humor (did the wrath even have a humorous bone in her body?). “i know my place, and i intend to make it above yours. emperor’s wrath or not, you’re still human. you have a name, you have a husband.” she coughs again. “you can be killed. never forget how fragile life is, wrath.”

“i shall not, and i haven’t, nox. do not ruin this for me, or it will be your head on a platter in the next week.” brushing off her robes, she walks past her. “good day nox, i will see you tomorrow morning. do not be late.”

mierrio watches her walk away (a good distance from the offending sign) as she fills her lungs with air again. fighting on corellia had not ended well, it’d left the wrath with a puncturing hole in her stomach, and mierrio had nearly lost her left arm. to have another, all these years later as dark council members, could easily be fatal for one or the other.

but darth nox, lord kallig, was not about to let fear control her again. the wrath would not get the better of her, again. mierrio revel was stronger than that, and always would be.

and she’d show the arrogant sith that.

[sordm5]

Fallout: New Vegas Character Sheet / OC Questionnaire, 5k+ words

This is the part where I pray for consistency with my previous character essays...

The majority of these answers are from a character building perspective. Other perspectives are kept in parentheses. 

Mason Shepherd McCoy

which faction did they side with (NCR, legion, yes-man, or house)?

Unwittingly, he sided with the NCR. But he abandoned the cause shortly before the lead up to the Second Battle for Hoover Dam.

preferred armor?

He favors dusters, but beneath that, he usually dresses in raggedly layers. Cycling between two pairs of majorly distressed and ripped jeans, and collected vintage scarves he finds from abandoned buildings.

(In game, light armor. Specifically the courier fatigues from the Courier’s Cache mod, modded with the standalone Lonesome Road courier duster.  

Screenshots: front / back)

melee, guns, energy weapons, or unarmed?

Most skilled with a ranged bolt or lever action rifle.

After a compromising incident while he lived in Zion, Joshua attempts to teach him unarmed combat. But because Mase is a difficult, stubborn student, the lessons don’t continue on for long, and Joshua’s patience is tested to its limit.

highest skills? secondary skills? lowest skills?

His skill in everything aside from guns and repair are fairly mediocre, but his worst skills are definitely survival and unarmed. It’s pretty transparent that Mase’s priorities are focused on catering to his preference for gunplay.

(It’s hard to avoid having every skill high when level ups are forced on you, so I'm going to ignore in-game stats in favor of character development. Speech is the most notable skill I prefer to max out, but I don’t know if it’s exactly character-fitting for Mase considering he’s not actually a talkative person.)

SPECIAL stats?

3, 9, 6, 4, 7, 8, 3

what are their perks?

Confirmed Bachelor, babey. And Hand Loader. That one’s important.

(I'm not sure if this is asking me to list all perks my character has, but for the sake of not doing that – as it would be lengthy and tedious – I’ll leave it at these two.)

favorite companions? least favorite companions?

Mase adores Arcade more than he cares to admit. However, that adoration doesn’t overpower his own cowardice. He carries the weight of endlessly wondering what fate befell Arcade after Mase left the Mojave. He likes to...imagine he’s happy with the Followers, tending to new researches that could maybe benefit the public. The mental image distracts him from his guilt, at least.

The only other companion Mase was close with was ED-E. He doesn’t actively hate or dislike anyone, though.

any romantic partners? how do these relationships begin and end? are they healthy?

Yeah...Mase kinda...tries to pursue a relationship with Joshua, but it’s majorly onesided, and overwhelmingly unhealthy. Even Mase is aware of the unhealthy aspect, despite his feelings.

-

I’ve thought a lot about how to avoid making this sort of scenario lore-breaking. I can’t realistically picture, given what we see and know of him in-game, that Joshua would ever reciprocate any sort of romantic feelings anyone might have for him.

This might be my own interpretation, but I think by the time the courier meets Joshua, he’s resigned to live his life thinking he can find redemption through his faith. And I think he’s convinced himself to be wholly devoted to it. He even twists the biblical quotes he uses as excuses for his own internal anger. He needs to think that the things he does are justified by God.

Beyond the religious dedication, Joshua tells us that he feels indebted to his family, and the tribes of Zion, for welcoming him back like he had never done anything to shame them. After questioning him about his past, and the defeat he suffered, he ends with, "I will never be able to repay the debt I owe to them, but I must try." The way this is all presented leads me to believe there isn't much room in Joshua's life for anything else.

Also, on another note, one quote by Mr. Sawyer, who wrote the entirety of Joshua Graham’s character, stuck with me:

It's not as simple as being "set on fire". After suffering a terrible failure, he was humiliated by his superior and the people he commanded. He was cast out and left for dead. His entire reason for living was gone. When your entire way of life is completely destroyed, it has a profound impact on how you view yourself and your place in the world. [...]

Read the entire quote here.

There was also a quote, if I am indeed recalling correctly, by Josh Sawyer that expanded upon Joshua’s dialogue in-game that spoke about the love he received upon his return to New Canaan – about how he was in disbelief over it, how he thought he didn’t deserve it. But I can’t find that quote again, so don’t take my word for it.

I know that the developer’s input isn’t the “word of God”, and that Sawyer has said that he strongly dislikes when authors discourage fan interpretations and have an almost authoritarian hold over their stories. However, I still find it useful to reference dev commentary when expanding upon my own ideas.

Returning to the original point, as much as I’d really just like to say ‘they both lived happily ever after’ about my courier and Joshua, it’s not something I can picture happening. Joshua isn’t an ordinary man, and domesticity wasn’t ever an option for him.

-

There are some deeply self-indulgent scenarios I’ve written about for Mase and Joshua, and even in the more intimate pieces it always takes Joshua years to think it’s okay to even let Mase sleep next to him. So, I don’t imagine within the first year of staying in Zion anything even vaguely resembling intimacy would develop between them. Mase would have to come back to Zion after returning from the east coast and put a lot of work, time, and dedication into getting Joshua to open up on that level.

But, because I don’t feel fully confident in discussing my thoughts of how things change within the game post-canon-storyline (both base game and Honest Hearts/all DLC alike), these ideas and scenarios remain strictly self-indulgent. One detail I am comfortable saying that happens post-NV is that Mason does eventually come back to Nevada and end up settling there.

Since this is already a sort of a self-indulgent post about my oc, I will share some jumbled-context thoughts I’ve had. But keep in mind, if I were to keep this confined to my comfort on respecting the canon storyline and not exploiting it for my own purposes, this would have ended with Joshua never reciprocating, Mase leaving the west coast and returning at some indeterminate point, years later. 

With that being said...

Mase and Joshua argue about the feelings between them a lot. With Joshua it’s always “You understand my position, we’ve spoken about it countless times. You’ve said you understood, yet you continue to persist.” / “I know. And, I’m...sorry. I just can’t help but feel like I’m a nuisance to you. That the way I feel disgusts you-” / “You know that isn’t true-” / “You always push me away-” / “I’ve told you why-” etc, etc.

The closer they get, the more doubt Joshua begins to show, the more he pushes Mase away, and the more Mase wants reassurance that Joshua still finds him important, in some way. Joshua does value Mase’s companionship, but what Mase gives is unabashed love, and there’s a huge discrepancy in outward reciprocation. Mase tries his best to adapt and subdue how he feels – to try to understand and match the level at which Joshua keeps him. But it’s hard. A lot of “you don’t care about me like how I care about you” feelings.

Joshua insists the discrepancy isn’t true, and it’s only perceived that way by Mason. He loathes when he’s forced to remind Mason of his situation – of the path he’s chosen to take in his life, his dedication to it, after what happened to him at the Grand Canyon. How large the amount of atonement he owes. How, even if he wanted to break away from this path, there are still things he would never be able to do for Mason.

Of course, Mase tries to keep all of this in mind. But with the lack of communication, and the constant distance from Joshua, it’s hard to know if the boundaries are because of Joshua’s self restraint, or if Mase is truly no longer wanted. He’s just...very troubled and brokenhearted by it all, and the situation isn’t easy.

There’s also the awkward re-acquainting with each other after the years they spend apart. Which is disheartening to Mase because, before, he’d felt Zion was akin to a home due to the time spent there, and, when he comes back, it feels foreign – like there’s no place for him anymore. Everything looks and seems different. It takes a long while to get over that feeling.

Joshua looks different after all that time, as well. He never takes to fully discarding his bandages – it’s too personal for him – and his scarring doesn’t ever necessarily fade, but they do heal, lessen in severity, and subsequently cause him less pain. Because of this, he’s more comfortable exposing his forearms without bandaging, and the areas around his nose, mouth, and jaw. 

It takes Mase a moment to process this upon first seeing him again. In the past, he’d only ever seen Joshua without his bandages but one time, and it was because he’d been gravely injured and in recovery. He thinks it’s a good look for Joshua, though. And, more importantly, he’s overjoyed that he isn’t in as much pain.

Mase also continues travelling even after his return to the west. Especially between his home in northern Nevada and Zion. So it’s not as though he spends his every day with Joshua, although...he does try to persuade Joshua to visit his house and stay for awhile. Which he does eventually succeed at, after some complications on tribal responsibilities.

-

...tfw you set out to write about your own character and end up devoting the most time writing about Joshua Graham. To be fair, I have another huge character post about Mase that establishes way more about him, and I’ve been meaning to write about the dynamics with Joshua for awhile now.

yes, i’ve thought a lot about this. damn.

anyway...

doesn’t it suck when your first love after you get retrograde amnesia is a revenge obsessed warlord with misplaced dedication to a faith that he manipulates to lie to himself that his revenge obsessions are justifiable :(  real sad boi hours

gender / sexuality / ethnicity / species / etc.?

Boy/gay/???

He doesn’t know much about his ancestry, or the roots of his past in general. Doesn’t want to know. He’s pretty sure he’s human, though...maybe. But he’s also considered the possibility of being an alien misplaced on earth. Maybe...

He’s also not particularly attached to his biological sex. He is genetically male, and does predominantly identify as male, but it’s not something he feels is important or necessary to his identity as a whole. On a basic level, this applies to, say, clothing. If he found a dress appealing, he’d wear it without thinking much about what gender a dress was intended for. If that makes sense.

This sentiment is also applicable to sexuality. He doesn’t really label himself in any specific way. He just knows that the majority of people he’s found even somewhat attractive or appealing happen to be men.

where were they born/raised? when/why did they leave?

He doesn’t know.

when, why and how did they become a courier? how long did they remain a courier before benny shot them?

Again: part of a past that he doesn’t remember. Brings him anxiety over the thought of finding an answer to who he was before.

how did the bullet affect them?

Retrograde amnesia. His memories never returned. After awaking at Doc Mitchell’s, it was difficult for him to acquaint himself with who he was. He didn’t recognize his voice, his age, his appearance. Nothing felt familiar. His speaking patterns even sounded foreign to his own ears.

Other than that, recurring migraines that plagued him for weeks after his awakening.

how did they deal with benny?

He spared him. Read more here. 

what’s their reputation with the ncr / the legion?

Liked/Neutral

Mase aided the NCR whenever necessary, especially during the beginning of his travels in the Mojave. He refused to agitate the Legion. He never realized he was weaving himself into becoming a mercenary of war for the NCR, and, had he realized they were going to proposition him for such a task, he never would have helped to begin with.

In retrospect, after abandoning the Mojave, his regrets in assisting the NCR don’t add up to much. After consideration, he realized he would prefer an NCR victory as opposed to a Legion one. He’s aware there might have been a better alternative, had he stayed, had he put himself at the forefront of the decision making. But, he simply isn’t that kind of man.

what’s their reputation with goodsprings / novac / primm? (i know primm reputation was cut from the game but like let’s pretend for a minute sdkfjd)

His reputation with Primm would be the worst of all three, entirely due to his uncaring mistakes in handling finding new authority for the town. The NCR wasn’t the worst of the outcomes, but it still wasn’t favorable with the existing community, and Mase only realizes that after it’s far too late.

Goodsprings and Novac act as the friendliest respites Mase knows, and he is mostly in good standing with both towns’ residents. He assisted Goodsprings during the trouble with the Powder Gangers, and, similarly, assisted Novac’s trouble with feral ghouls.

what is their motive for taking vegas?

He doesn’t. Ideally, freedom for Vegas and Freeside would be what Mase would want, but he’s too prone to fleeing from pressure and stress. He doesn’t want the responsibility of an entire populace on his shoulders, and when presented with fight or flight in regards to the war for the Mojave, Mase chooses flight.

what do they look like? how tall are they? are they attractive? any piercings, tattoos, scars?

Just under 6′. Tanned, freckled complexion. Hair naturally dirty blond/light brown-ish, but frequently bleached lighter. Crooked, gapped teeth. He has multiple scars over his entire body, but half he can’t even remember the causes of. The most prominent ones being the bullet wound in his hairline, and the surgery scars from the Think Tank.

how old are they? do they know their birthday? if so, what’s their sign?

22 around the time of the events of Goodsprings. His birthday is November 22nd, information courtesy of his Mojave Express ID card, and not of his own memory. I suppose that makes him a sagittarius.

The only fitting quote I could find from a sagittarius horoscope was: “You are very critical of those around and of yourself and sometimes will prefer to isolate yourself.”

do they speak any languages other than english?

He doesn’t. He tries to learn the language of the Dead Horses and the Sorrows, but only retains basic phrases.

can they read, write, do math, sing? did they ever receive an education?

He is educated, but only utilizes his intelligence in areas that are practical to him. Like the kilometer calculations while adjusting his rifle scope. Other than that, he frequently writes in a journal that he received from the Mojave Express. Its primary function was to track deliveries, but he re-purposed it for personal use.

Mase is also somewhat of a collector, and, in his home, he has a guitar with rusted metal strings and a piano with many keys that don’t work (don’t ask about the complications of transporting the thing from an abandoned pre-war home to his own safehouse.) He aspires to fix them both and learn how to play them, and maybe write his own music, but he doesn’t often get time to do so.

what were their parents like? are they still on good terms with their parents?

Doesn’t know who his parents are. Doesn’t want to know.

what’s their d&d alignment? 

Starting off as neutral good, but quickly becoming chaotic neutral the longer his travels across the Mojave go.

how’s their karma?

Canonically neutral.

how do they feel about killing people? do they try to avoid it?

He doesn’t actively seek confrontation – he’s no murderer – but he doesn’t have any moral objections to killing if there’s a good purpose for it. Killing the “bad guys”, etc. He’s not a coward either, and he’s confident in his gunplay abilities.

do they take chems? if yes, when and which ones?

Other than admittedly using med-x a couple times in attempts to treat his insomnia, he tries not to dabble in drug use outside of meds for intended purposes. His preferred poison is alcohol.

do they gamble? where? is their luck good?

He doesn’t partake. The atmosphere of the casinos on The Strip gives him a deep sense of discomfort. A piece of the world, frozen in time, sheltered away from the destruction of the wastes that lay just outside the doors. Men in suits, focused on their greed, their only concern how much nicotine they can inhale.

In his tattered duster and ripped blue jeans, face smudged with dust and dirt, Mase feels horribly wrong amid all the leisure and recreation. It’s stifling.

where do they usually sleep? do they have more than one home location? do they live with any other people?

Throughout his campaign in the Mojave, Mase doesn’t ever keep a main base of operations. From his room at Novac, to the Lucky 38, to Zion, to anywhere he’s welcomed to rest his head for the night. He keeps his belongings down to what he can carry, or things he’s isn’t afraid of losing if left behind.

After his return to Nevada from his journey out east, Mase settles in an abandoned, lone ranch somewhere in the mid-north part of the state. It’s there, in his late-20s, that Mase truly finds himself able to call a location a home. He begins to collect more, and his safehouse soon turns into an unorganized, messy museum of sorts.

what are their favorite weapons? where did they get these weapons?

He’s partial to his rifles, both bolt and lever action alike. Namely, the Medicine Stick and Paciencia, courtesy of the Gun Runners. He takes to further customizing both rifles (and altering the customizations already applied).

do they flirt a lot? is it well-received?

Mase and Arcade have a platonically flirtatious relationship. Neither of them desire to take it further than that and are comfortable in their friendship. However...there are nights Mase remembers fondly: bedrolls haphazardly thrown onto the floor of whatever safe place they could find to rest in their travels, Arcade somehow ends up in Mase’s arms in the early hours of dawn, his head tucked into the crook of Mase’s neck, Mase’s fingers carding through Arcade’s hair as the haze of sleep slowly fades.

Though Mase later ends up developing feelings for Joshua while in Zion, he doesn’t dare anything close to flirting. He regards their relationship as too important for empty flirtatious comments, while also knowing it wouldn’t be received well anyway. Between them, it’s more of mutual respect and trust.  

At some point during Mase’s year stay in Zion, Joshua does clue in to the way Mase treats him, and what that alludes to. They speak about it, if very sparingly, and it can be summarized by Joshua vaguely referencing whatever is between them by saying: if Mase is waiting for something from Joshua, he’s waiting in vain.

do they goof around a lot? do other people find it funny or do they just entertain themselves?

Mase has short-lived moments of hyperactivity, but is usually more stoic in nature. He recalls his time spent with Arcade as having some of the more expressive moments in his life. So it’s to be said that he has the ability to be a more humorous or entertaining person as long as he’s comfortable around the company he’s with.

what do their companions think of them? are they close? have they done any companion quests?

He doesn’t stay with anyone long enough to become truly close to them, aside from Arcade.

ED-E is Mase’s first real travelling companion. After repairing the eyebot, Mase decides to keep it and regards it as little more than an extra weapon. The longer the road takes them, the more Mase finds himself talking into the open air about a myriad of things. Sometimes it’s a mess of world salad and scattered thoughts – the product of distant feelings of deja vu and the many migraines the bullet wound had caused.

The more this happens, the more Mase starts feelings like ED-E is listening to him. Maybe the beeps that he gives aren’t indicators that he’s listening and are just coincidence, but all the same, Mase starts to see a personality in ED-E, and starts to think of him as less of a weapon and more as a friend.

On a fittingly drunken night at the NCR Mojave Outpost, Mase crosses paths with Cass. He enjoys her attitude and her humor, and more than delights in sharing a bottle of whiskey or two- or three, or four. Beyond that first night of drinking challenges and hazy blackouts, and a few following encounters, Cass and Mase don’t stay as travelling companions. Fast friends over a bottle of brew, but nothing more.

Later, but still early in his travels, Mase finds himself with his hands full in Novac. It’s here he helps Boone uncover the truth about the person who disposed of his wife. He agrees to arrange the revenge without hesitation. There’s not even a droplet of blood on the red beret atop Mase’s head; he doesn’t flinch when Boone takes the shot.

Unfortunately, Boone’s animosity and hostility towards the Legion prevents them from travelling together. Mase understands, and it’s left at that.

As for Arcade, well...some of Mase’s largest regrets concern Arcade; how he feels he must have let him down after he’d left. He’d known of Arcade’s ideals, about his feelings towards what he’d wanted for the the people of Freeside, and Vegas as a whole. The wayward feelings of hope Arcade found in him. The rare moments of open vulnerability in the secrets Arcade shared of his past. Just how many things were shared between them, and how Mase let it go to waste for nothing – for his own cowardice.

For as much as having someone close to him by his side gave Mase strength, it also added to the weight of expectation from the pressure he already felt. Arcade wasn’t enough to change that. Nothing was.

do they draw, paint, play any instruments?

His main creative outlet is his journal. Writing and doodling little sketches. He doesn’t consider it a “real” art form, though.

how do they deal with injuries? do they use stimpaks, healing powder, med-x? does a companion help them? can they bear a lot of pain, or do they need to attend to injuries immediately? when they do have to see a doctor, do they have a preferred doctor, or do they just see anyone?

Mase has a high threshold for pain. The first time he’d been seriously injured (from memory) was during the shootout in Goodsprings. A bullet had pierced his upper left arm, thankfully missing any arteries, and became deeply lodged without breaking through the other side of the impact site. He remembered noticing he’d been struck was delayed, his arm had felt hot, wet, and uncomfortable, but almost indistinguishable through the adrenaline.

Once he noticed the red stains from the hole in his jacket, he stared wide-eyed and pale at the blood flowing from the open wound, the pain spiking like a blistering heat. He didn’t know what to do with himself; didn’t groan, didn’t cry, just stood with a lost look. He was in good company, though, and Doc Mitchell was there to care for the wounded.

Subsequent injuries have been reacted to with similar disconnect. He understands the importance of tending to wounds through the lecturing on infection from the Doc, and because of this tries to treat injuries as urgently as possible. However, if he can help it, he’d rather take a stimpak and slap a bandage over the wound and call it done. Fortunately, Arcade doesn’t let him get away with that one very often once they start travelling together.

have they ever been irradiated? how did they deal with it? did it have lasting effects?

In contrast to the high pain tolerance, Mase cannot handle radiation. In slight doses, it’s manageable, but when his Pipboy near deafens him with its Geiger clicking, like clockwork, the nausea immediately sets in. It debilitates him, and the contamination to his body never settles until he flushes it.

He recalls an instance of trying to bear with the radiation, barely dragging himself up the road from Novac, forcing himself to try to tough it out. He realized he’d made a mistake when he started profusely vomiting, and immediately checked his Pipboy for the nearest medical help.

Trudging up the slopes to Camp Forlorn Hope, Mase manages to make his way to the medical tent, limbs shaking and fatigued. Of course, Dr. Richards insists on helping him, having already been acquainted with the doctor from previously assisting with missing medical supplies. Mase had been hoping on a return of kindness when he’d chosen Forlorn Hope, while also not averse to being sweet-talked.

It seemed simple enough, let Dr. Richards hook an IV to his upper forearm, relax, and let the Radaway do its job. But...Mase had been shaking and hyperventilating from the nausea, and right as Dr. Richards offered him a reassuring “It’s going to be all right, buttercup”, Mase lurched and vomited on the doctor’s shoes.

Needless to say, one of his top most embarrassing moments.

in conversation, are they kind? gentle? sarcastic? rude? do they speak warmly and openly with people, or are they more guarded? do they talk a lot?

Generally very soft spoken, with little to say, especially in regards to strangers or people he’s just met. A monotone speaking pattern, with tendencies to a blunt manner of speaking his mind.

However this changes the closer he is to someone. He becomes more adaptive to the other person’s speaking patterns, becoming more or less talkative depending on the personality of his partner.

do they like long journeys through the mojave, or do they prefer to travel more quickly? do they prefer using roads or travelling through the deep desert?

It depends. He’ll have bouts of wanting to travel long, deserted stretches of land, leaving time to himself and his thoughts. No companions. And other times he’ll prefer to stay to more populated areas, not wanting to be alone, and dreading the idea of being left with no one but his own thoughts to keep him company.

name a random fact about your courier.

He has hang-ups about his name. For the first few months of his “new” life, he didn’t have a name, and was simply called “Courier” – which doesn’t entirely die out, even after he discovers his real name. The title “Courier” is something he more familiarly associates with his being/existence/person.

A continuous problem that his amnesia left him with was the inability to grasp or understand who he was. As time goes on and Mase becomes more self aware, this effect does diminish, but the conflicting feelings he has about his name remain. Sometimes he feels like his name is an important identity – one that he’s afraid of losing again, and sometimes he wants absolutely nothing to do with it.

When he leaves the Mojave, he throws his first name away completely, and takes to only telling people his middle name. Arcade had called him “Mase” consistently, with fondness; Joshua had only ever called him “Mason”, never the shorthand version. Somehow, that felt important. He didn’t want these memories to resurface – he didn’t want to remember what he’d left behind, or feel that pain – so he abandoned the name completely.

do they watch movie holotapes? what are their favorites? least favorites?

(Say The Man With No Name trilogy exists in the Fallout universe. That would undoubtedly be Mase’s favorite.

I admit I haven’t thought much about this sort of thing. The main kind of entertainment I imagine Mase consuming is mostly the radio. In-game, we have Radio New Vegas and Mojave Music as far as music/entertainment goes, but I like to think there would be other stations where the main focus is storytelling. Reruns from pre-war times, and newer stations featuring people recounting tales from the wasteland.)

what do they do with the lucky 38? do they like being there? do they leave their companions there? if they’re a yes-man courier, do they open it back up as a casino?

Much like how Mase feels towards the rest of The Strip, the Lucky 38 is a stifling, unwelcoming environment. He takes advantage of the shelter and amenities given, but he knows he’s being watched – being kept close like a useful tool, exactly how most factions and people in power treated him. He doesn’t make a habit of using the Lucky 38...but, he does like the convenience of running water.

what do they do after hoover dam?

Wanders out east towards Ronto. It’s possibly the most aimless 4 years of his life. He has no purpose, he falls onto self-destructive behavior, and loses what little sense of self he was able to garner from his time in Nevada and Utah. Ultimately, after confronting many internal fears and doubts, with not a slight bit of soul-searching, Mase makes the decision to go back home to Nevada.

how do they die? how is their death received, by the mojave and by their companions?

... (I haven’t gotten that far. I’ve only just barely decided Mase settles in Nevada, which is dependent on an NCR Hoover Dam victory. Which is extremely important to how things change in west coast territories. And thinking of Mase’s future involves thinking of the future of Nevada and the west as a whole. I don’t know if I’m capable of handling the weight of the aftermath of the NV storyline with my meager ideas.

I do imagine Mase would die from a shot to the head, though. Seems fitting.)

what are their vices? are they an alcoholic, a thief, a hoarder?

Mase has always had a proclivity for alcohol – these habits severely abate during his time in Zion, and then rise to a destructive level of full alcoholism during his time out east.

Hoarding has a negative connotation to it, right? Generally collecting garbage, and other trash? Mase collects items he finds to be interesting in his home in Nevada, but it’s not rubbish. It’s more of a collection similar to the likes of a museum.

can they cook, and if so, what do they cook? what are their favorite & least favorite foods?

Despite having less-than-useful survival skills, Mase is very interested in cooking recipes. The easiest and most satisfying one to follow is the desert salad, with more difficult recipes being mushroom cloud and wasteland omelette. He’s only had the opportunity to cook the latter two once each (thanks Quarry Junction and Bloodborne cave), and he savored every moment of both meals.

Another favorite would be iguana bits – a food he’s tried to replicate, but can’t quite pin the recipe for down. Besides that, he admittedly has a palette for pre-war sweets. Fancy Lads have a specifically...gone off...flavor about them, but he enjoys them all the same.

did they kill caesar? vulpes inculta? what about prominent ncr figures, like kimball and colonel hsu?

He doesn’t kill any prominent figures. Perhaps if he had been a different person, he would have been openly hostile toward the Legion – he disagrees with their values, and despises their leader – but this was not the life he felt he could lead. He already had enough paranoia about the prospect of having enemies coming back to kill him from the life he couldn’t remember, let alone adding to that by agitating any specific faction or group.

/

I deleted some questions I felt were already answered well enough in previous posts about Mason. Namely: this one.

I also just deleted things I didn’t feel like answering because it was too much effort.

The companions question is unfinished because I felt like that bit was getting really unorganized and chunky to read. So, some companions are omitted. May go back to this and edit it / add more to it.