#(knock on wood) cooling off!!! phew!

[whimseee]

I’m 20!!!!!!!

[starryseung]

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒔 𝒂𝒔 90'𝒔 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 [ 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆 ]

𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒋𝒊𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒈

I would travel thousands of miles just to be with you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

you and han might’ve met at school, through mutual friends

then of course the classic ‘mutual pining without you two realizing you’re falling for each other’ game until one of your friends point it out

and then on days he doesn’t have a busy schedule, he’ll walk you home from school

slowly it’ll be a habit, and you’ll grow closer and closer

sometimes unconsciously he’ll intertwine your fingers with his

sometimes when it’s raining / freezing cold he’ll give you his jacket

“no ji, you’ll freeze to death,”

“at least i’ll freeze to death for you,”

*winks*

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

dates with jisung aren’t fixed at one spot

he loves showing you different places he discovered throughout the weekend

usually its the townside, because he loves watching nature and sunsets

also loves taking you through the woods (but only during broad daylight because he still hasn’t recovered from that werewolf story his friend told him in grade 2)

once you’ve reached your destination, he’ll laugh and jump up and down, kissing your hand and face a thousand times

but the journey towards the destination is literal hell

“y/n, i know men are supposed to carry women, but i’m pretty lightweight, and my legs might snap any moment now,”

“y/nnnn please gimme a piggy back ride up the hill i might faint”

“wow y/n i’m offended i don’t think you deserve all these awesome places i take you to,”

and when you glare at him, he’s a 180 flip, because you might just break his bones for choosing such a faraway location in the first place

“i-i mean you don’t deserve them because you’re so much prettier than them!”

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

okay see kisses with jisung are always quick and short because even if you’ve shared these moments a hundred times, each of them still feels like the first one

but sometimes he takes his time, kissing your forehead, then your nose, then your cheeks, then skips your lips and moves down to your chin

but when you pout / whine he’ll chuckle softly and come back up to kiss you

so yeah kissing with jisung is very giggly and soft all the time

but otherwise, he’d never notice how soft and bubbly his cheeks are if it weren’t for you

you’re always kissing and pinching his cheeks (like you should!!)

and he won’t act like he doesn’t like it; he’ll laugh it off or reciprocate your love because he feels very loved around you and wouldn’t change it for the world or better.

thank you, y/n

𝒍𝒆𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙 

I want to grow old with you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

you first meet him at the café he works!

initially it wouldn’t be much, just you hurriedly ordering your coffee and leaving

but then you’ll notice the small hearts he scribbles after your name on the cup, sometimes even going as far to write a lil “you’ll do great!” or “you look really sweet today”

so one day you decide to go to his café with your friend

and while leaving you slip in your number to him, but turns out this ball of sunshine is trying to slip in his number to you; so you have a new thing to laugh about

so yeah you start hanging out after his shifts, sometimes you wait for him to close the café for the day

“y/n you know you don’t have to wait for me tonight, it’ll get pretty late,”

“no lixie, i’d rather go home late with you than go home alone,”

but he knows you only wait for him so that you can eat all the donuts and cupcakes with him after his shift ends

but its a win-win for both of you, so he doesn’t mind :D

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

so he knows it’s like top 10 anime betrayals to his workplace, but he loves taking you to pet cafés

one, because he loves animals

two, because you love animals

three, because he loves you playing around with these animals

“awh felix can we steal this one? it’s so cute,”

and he’s just laughing because you’re so c u t e

“i don’t think that’s allowed, y/n,”

but not gonna lie i bet he has tried sneaking out a dog for you, but he got caught by one of the workers there

“o-oh! when d-did this little guy fit into my j-jacket pocket!”

super adorable uwu

calls you angel and princess, while you’re calling him sunshine all the time

loves decorating your hair with flowers

oh! he loves braiding your hair too

like when you’re over at his place he’s always experimenting with your hair; doing little salon roleplays with you and prettying your hair

but sometimes when he’s tired from work he’ll let you braid his hair

also loves having matching outfits

before dating him you thought matching couple outfits were cliché and stupid, but after dating him, you realize how different they are

dating felix also means your fashion sense improves a lot👀

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

felix, like hyunjin, has very kissable lips

he probably tastes like vanilla,plus he’s a great kisser

you’re wondering where he learnt all that from

making out with felix happens every other day, but its usually in bed with him on top of you while you guys are watching some movie / playing video games

also he’ll probably end up sleeping like that as you two slowly get tired

his face on your chest / on your shoulders and hands tight around your waist

this boy really loves you okay you better not make him sad >:(

𝒌𝒊𝒎 𝒔𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏 

You complete me.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

at! the!! library!!!

you’re trying to pick a book from the second-to-top shelf, but since the universe decided to give you the most inconvenient height possible, here you are, contemplating if you should just drop the whole shelf down to get that book

but thankfully, seungmin is to the rescue!

he’ll smile and wordlessly take the book and hand it down to you

everyday its the same story; there’s a book that you really like, but its too far for you, but slowly you don’t mind because somehow seungmin is always there around at the same time to take that book for you

one day he decides to take initiative, but realizes he’s a coward and can’t do shit

so he’s over the moon when you come and sit next to him

“hey, i’m sorry for the trouble, but uhh i need some help with this assignment…”

and of course he’s there to help you! he’ll clarify where you need him to and explain you better than ever

slowly interactions increase and before you know it, you’re lying on your stomach on his bed with your legs dangling in the air as you two have your noses in a book

you learn more and more about each other, ultimately to the point where you know better about each other than about yourselves

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

initially when you two have just started dating, there would be study dates at the café down your block

but later you two take each other out on weekends, sometimes to the movies, sometimes to the town fair.

ahh but when dates are at the fair… >:)

let’s assume seungmin doesn’t have good experiences with rides

so naturally you will… take him to the rides only mwahaha

“y/n do you not love me? why are you doing this,”

you’re just evil laughing, you sadist

dates for seung-y/n are just sleepovers at each others house

he’s laughing like crazy when you’re messing shit up

“seungmin can you help me i’m stuck in this shirt,”

seungmin: proceeds to laugh for the next ten minutes at your contortionist-self

now unlike changbin, seungmin will not show you off to his friends

he doesn’t like the concept of ‘claiming you’, but he doesn’t like sharing you either.

“hey, isn’t that too revealing for a party?”

“seungmin? its a knee length skirt??”

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

kisses = pecks on the lips / cheeks

you’re simply cooking / studying and he’ll wrap his hands around your waist from behind and rest his head on your shoulder

“what is my y/n doinggg?”

and he’ll kiss your cheek

sometimes leans forward to kiss you on your lips too

but in general kisses are soft

he’ll have a hand on your stomach, one on the back of your neck to rub smooth comforting circles

to be honest your relationship is more like best friends because you’re just always there for each other and can talk about the most stupidest things openly

you: “you know i’ve heard stars are all our forefathers looking down at us,”

seung: “really? i though they were just balls of gas though,”

you: “nah, i don’t think that’s true,”

𝒚𝒂𝒏𝒈 𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒊𝒏

I love everything there is to love about you.

𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈

he moved in the same neighbourhood as yours, and since he was the only person around your age (and the only normal one your age), you had to be friends with him

you two meet up every evening at the neighbourhood park, and he doesn’t really mind your company, especially when you bring you little brother with you

“awh, is that your little brother? he’s so cute!”

“yeah, he is; thanks!”

“he looks nothing like you!”

he’s initially very shy to talk to you

but when he realizes how cool your personality is (and how pretty you are🤭)

he’s knocking at your door everyday to take you and your little brother to the park

he always buys you ice cream though, and somehow it’s always the flavour you like

“oh thanks jeo— ah i don’t like this flavour” :(

“don’t worry y/n! i’ll get you another one!”

𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔

homeboi is very shy

the fact that he’s dating the perfect person for him (!!!) is enough for butterflies and grasshoppers and bees and dinosaurs to fly in his stomach

he gets really fidgety, but he feels a little nervous thinking about the fact that most of the ‘firsts’ in your relationship are celebrated by you; first ‘kiss’ (to which he held your hand home, then went to his house to dolphin scream into his pillows), first ‘date’ (in which you took him out to the beach to watch the sunset and have snacks) and first ‘one month’ (where you took him out to an expensive restaurant, even when he refused a couple billion times)

phew that was a long point

so he decided to celebrate your first ‘out-of-town trip’, where he drove you all the way to a cherry blossom forest

he also took a thousand pictures of you, coming back home to print one of them and safely put it in his wallet

he feels every small moment spent with you so endearing, he finds himself smiling randomly

𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔

as previously mentioned, your first kiss was initiated by you; you two were walking home from the neighbourhood park like always, and jeongin had carried your brother in his arms, playing with him

you couldn’t stop thinking about how your first kiss would be, and so when he dropped you off to your house, you simply had to kiss him

he puts your brother down, waving him goodbye, and just when he’s about to say his farewells to you, you instantly peck his lips, after which both your eyes were wide is plates

“i-i’m sorry i should've—”

“ah no it’s okay, uh,” he scratches his neck, biting his lip to control his smile

and you simply chuckle at his cuteness, muttering a small ‘bye’ and ‘love you’ before going into your house

and the way his face changes once he’s out of your sight is just— *chef’s kiss*

he’s running home, and when his brothers ask him what happened, he’s just ignoring them and goes to his room to scream and laugh his heart out into the sheets

his family thinks he’s insane by now, but of course! he’s in love!

plus that with the cutest person in the whole world!

a/n; and it’s finally up! it didn’t take me long to write this because the ideas just came flooding in sdfkhsdjk but thank you so much for your feedback for hyung line! also!!! this is the only two fics which do not have a read more cut because I’m using a mobile device for posting these,, sorry🙈

note; credits to @neocult-icons​ @chnsbbg @district9edits @skzicons for the pictures!!

taglist; @hyukminie @cherryeol04 @lomlminho @bruh-changbin @yooniversalstudios @ann0325441904 @yourdaddychan @mahalau​ (message me if you want to be added!)

[thiswasinevitableid]

For mermay, #25 siren for Sternclay, rating up to you? Thank you so much, I love your fics!

Here you go! I went with SFW and it's set in the same universe as the other siren prompt I got this year

Joseph has sailed so far over the horizon of regret that he’s landed right back on the shores of resolve.

The highway curves through low mountains, extends in interminable straight lines of super-heated asphalt, and he drives both stretches with purpose, eyes fixed on his goal so as not to see the last forty-eight hours lurking in his rearview mirror.

When the sign reading “Kepler: Population 3,000 on land, 50 in water” reflects the setting sun he slumps back in the driver seat, too tired to be glad, excited, afraid, or anything else at all.

He passes the Cryptonomica, proclaiming itself the premier place to learn about the Roadside Sirens. Rolling his eyes means he nearly misses the drawbridge warning, the barrier dropping and bridge rising to allow a small sailboat to pass. It’s aboard this he sees his first siren; dappled tail hanging in the water as she converses with the other passenger and waves to the siren working the bridge.

The bridge lowers and he continues forward as the early evening overtakes the main road. Neon crackles to life, creosote and rabbitbrush drift through the window when he rolls it down. The sign on Amnesty Lodge declares vacancies, so he pulls into the parking lot. It’s a strange lay-out, little cabins dotting the patches of pools that, once upon a time, must have been enclosed in rooms. Now they glisten under the emerging stars, some surrounded by lawn chairs and set ups to play horseshoes or cornhole. The building housing the lobby is precariously perched on the bank of the slow flowing river, another building whose neon is unlit sitting beside it. He pays the young lady at the counter for a week to week cabin and lugs the remainders of his life inside.

In the bathroom mirror, the wear of this trip is clear in the wrinkles on his suit and the dust on his shoes. He strips down, rinses off, and heads into the night in his shorts and T-shirt from Puget Sound. On a whim he turns right, follows a trail that leads him into the state park. He pays the five dollar fee in a little envelope as he continues on his way. Just as he reaches a scenic viewpoint, the singing starts.

Joseph can’t see any of the singers, can only pick up six or so distinct voices swirling around him.

It’s said the roadside sirens will tell you what you need.

It’s said the roadside sirens are the only way Kepler gets new residents

It’s said the roadside sirens will lead you to your hearts desire.

It’s said the roadside sirens are not always gentle.

All that tugs at Joseph’s heart is exhaustion. When footsteps creak across the boards behind him, he turns to find a man in a ranger uniform. Their eyes meet a moment and the man nods in greeting, “Evenin sir, you got any questions?”

“What do you hear when they sing?”

The ranger shrugs, “I hear them singin’. Never been all that susceptible to ‘em. Well, except for one, but he don’t sing all that often and the last time it was to tell me he missed me while I was out here workin’.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow. The man comes close enough for him to see his name tag. All it says is, “Duck.”

Duck chuckles, leans his arms on the railing, “S’okay, most folks don’t believe me when I tell ‘em that. See, thing about sirens is, you gotta have unfulfilled desires for the song to take hold. First time I was in Kepler, didn’t have a goddamn clue what I wanted from life. When I came back, found the two things I wanted right away. Been pretty content since.” He glances at Joseph, “why, you hear somethin that worries you?”

“I don’t hear anything besides-”

A burst of blue and orange light spills across them; the building beside Amnesty Lodge has come to life, and Joseph can see a line out the door from here. More importantly, someone is singing and his body moves towards the source without him noticing.

“I mean, if your main want is you’re hungry, Lodge is a damn good place to start. Put Kepler on the map. Or, uh, guess the sirens put it there and the Lodge kept it there once the novelty wore off.

“Uhumm” Joseph nods, waving an absentminded goodnight as he follows the path back to the Lodge. He’s about to join the others waiting to get through the door when he gets a flash of an image; a draft on a desk, announcing the Lodge needed a cooks assistant.

What the hell, it’s worth a try right?

A knock on the back door summons an older man in a “Joshua Tree” shirt.

“Howdy, if you’re lookin for the line-”

“I’m here about the assistant job.”

“Uhh, o-kay. Not the best time for it, but follow me.”

The man leads him down a set of stairs to a kitchen that is half in and half out of the water in a way that defies logic and physics. Swimming about are several sirens, plus two humans on the shore, cooking and sending food up to the main building in a dance that borders on chaos. In the middle of it all is a siren with a deep copper tail that matches his short beard and long hair tied back in a bun.

“Barclay! You got a minute?”

“Not really!”

“Okay then. I’ll just have this fella wait in your office until dinner rush is over.”

“Sure great yeah Moira wheres the crawfish for table ten?”

Which is how Joseph finds himself sitting in a cabin, twiddling his thumbs. His manners fight his boredom until he pulls a paperback from the nearby shelf and loses himself in the exploits of a someone recreating dishes from ancient civilizations. Doesn’t look up until the door opens and the same man, now with legs instead of that beautiful tail, walks in.

“Phew” he shuts the door with a satisfied smile, rests his head on the wood, then whirls and slams his back against it when Joseph clears his throat.

“GAHWHATTHEFUCK”

“I’m, I’m so sorry, I thought you heard, um, Thacker, tell you he was having me wait here.”

“W-wait here for wh--Oh, oh right, the assistant thing.” The siren scrubs his face, “yeah, uh, guess Mama must've put the ad out. Uh, would you say you’re organized?”

“Extremely. But honestly it doesn’t seem like you need that much help on that front.”

A deep, rich laugh, “I cleaned this morning, last night it looked like an earthquake hit this place. Guessing from the fact you didn’t freak out in the kitchen you’re cool with the supernatural?”

“Yes. It’s an area of interest for me.”

There’s suspicion in Barclay’s voice, hidden but very much present, “why’d you end up in Kepler?”

“I came here on purpose. I wanted to be somewhere where strange things were celebrated and out in the open. Not...not kept from the world.”

Barclay leans back on his desk, arms crossed, “Where’d you work before now?”

“The…” he sighs, resigns himself to finding somewhere else to go, “the FBI. UP branch, I was at Nellis when they, um, relieved me of my duties.”

For a long moment, Barclay studies him. Then he turns to his desk, setting stacks of papers in order as he hums. Joseph closes his eyes, takes calming breaths; all he wants is to be safe, to not have to run. All he wants is for Barclay to hold him, he’s never seen a man so handsome and a useless, primal part of him fixates on that fact. Also he’s starving, god, he hasn’t eaten since his breakfast of black coffee.

Barclay stops humming, “Come with me.”

Joseph follows him back down into the strange kitchen (“couple of friends of mine are pretty powerful magicians. They rigged up the kitchen for me”). All the lights are off, and without them he discovers Barclay’s eyes glow an eerie yellow-green. When he smiles, Joseph sees only the points on his teeth, not the crinkle at the edge of his eyes.

“Hungry?” Barclay rumbles.

“Starving.”

“You eat fish?”

“...Yes?” Will the wrong answer get him drowned.

The cook leaps towards the water, tail appearing and clothes vanishing at the last moment before he hits the dark surface. Joseph stands, on edge and curious, until the siren emerges, newly-dead trout in his hands.

“Tastes best fresh.” Barclay swims to his grill, turning it on in a click of a knob.

“Why not just stay human when you cook?” Joseph makes his way over to the station as Barclay butchers the fish and sets it into a heavily buttered pan.

“The charm only holds for so long before I need to be back in the water, and I get so busy during meals I don’t want to risk passing out because I went too long on shore. Besides” he spins elegantly to grab two spice jars, “I learned to cook in the water, so this is the most natural way for me.”

“Fascinating.” Joseph sits down, keeping himself out of arms reach of the water. Barclay seems nice, but sirens did not become famous for offering people things and then following through; hundreds of dead travelers prove that much.

“Where are you from?”

“Chicago, originally.”

“Ever see the great lake mers?”

“No.” He can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s only learning of their existence now.

“Quite a few out there. Sirens too.”

Well, that introduces some new reasons for all the shipwrecks.

“How do you know? Are you from there?”

“Nah. Been in Kepler my whole life. Even during the bad years, singing people into that godawful, overpriced casino buffet. Convincing them the shitty cold cuts were prime rib.” His hand stills a moment, clenches and then releases, “yeah. Every now and then” he starts chopping shallots, “one of the drunks would get it into their heads to pet the sirens tail or hair and I had to sit there and let them. My tail” he shudders, swipes the shallots into the pan so roughly Joseph starts.

“Sorry.” Barclay mumbles.

“Don’t be. I’m on edge, that’s all. And you have every right to be angry. Being forced to do something you know is wrong is....there’s no winning.”

“That why you just want a place to feel safe?”

It’s so easy to confess in the darkness of the cave.

“I put up too much of a fight about something. Refused to do something that went against my conscience. They let me go, which I feared but expected. Then I found my bank accounts were cut off and someone had manipulated the records to say I’d been fired for criminal activity so it’d be harder to find a job.”

A clink of metal on china, and then Barclay is holding a plate out to him with tenderness in his eyes, “I’m so sorry, Joseph. Here, at least you won’t be hungry.”

Joseph murmurs out his thanks.

“You a wine drinker?”

“Right now I could certainly go for some.”

A few flicks of that stunning tail and Barclay returns with a glass of white for each of them.

“To getting free of shitty pasts.” The cook raises his glass and Joseph bumps his against it. Barclay brings it to his lips, but smiles rather than sip, “and by the way: you got the job.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Being Barclay’s assistant is fifty percent clerical work and fifty percent following the siren around as he gathers ingredients or tests recipes. On Ned Chicane’s recommendation, Barclay had published a cookbook of both traditional siren foods and his own creations. It became a bestseller which, among other things, means Joseph has a brand new wardrobe, regular deliveries of gourmet food, and his cabin is now full of books. Whenever he points out that Barclay is already paying him and doesn’t need to buy him things, the siren simply rubs their cheeks together (a thing Joseph is only now getting used to) and tells him he likes doing it.

So when he’s not getting his recipes in order or typing up scribbled note cards into something legible, he’s following Barclay on foot or in a boat while he harvests or buys ingredients. Sirens have permission to fish and forage in areas, including the park, that humans don’t, which means he runs into Duck and his siren husband, Indrid, on more than one occasion while hauling lines into the boat.

The one time it gets stuck, Barclay pulls it out all on his own. Almost like he’s showing off the muscles in his back, arms, and tail.

The only thing Joseph won’t do is get in the water with the siren. He can’t get the images of drowned sailors, of fishermen torn to shreds, from his mind. Barclay is powerful, sharp-toothed and slit-pupiled, dangerous yet so gentle he once purred when Joseph complimented his food. And if Joseph never goes in the water with him, he’ll never have to confront the fact he wouldn’t mind if those pointed teeth dug into his skin and that tail trapped his legs while he thrashed in Barclay’s hold.

He assumes Barclay doesn’t notice; after all, swamps and marshes, even the river, are far less suited to a human swimming in them than an ocean or lake. This conclusion is bolstered by Barclay never, ever asking him to join him in the water. The siren is less careful about singing; he usually just hums as he works, but sometimes he sings wordlessly and Joseph nearly dives head first into the water (Barclay’s lap, if they’re on land).

Tonight, he’s cleaning up after Barclay’s test session of new recipes in the kitchen. The cook went out to visit some friends who live further in the state park, so when his voice drifts across the stones Joseph is surprised.

Cool, calloused hands on his cheeks, a tail stroking his thighs, his lips tracing up a sturdy leg. Copper hair twined in his fingertips, a heart beating in time with his own, teeth sinking into his skin, marking him, claiming him.

Water fills his nose and his body jerks back to the present, standing up in the shallow water that he stepped and stumbled face-first into.

“Joseph? Oh fuck, are you okay?” Barclay rounds the corner, swimming over to look up at him with concern.

“Yes. I, um, I think I got caught up in your song.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were already upstairs or I wouldn’t have sung so loud. I know you can’t swim.”

“I can.” Joseph kneels, face down-turned in shame, “I was scared to, um, to be in the water with you. It’s, I was afraid of what might happen.”

Barlay swims back, “you thought I was gonna eat you?”

“No! Or, um, at first I didn’t want to foolishly assume that sirens in Kepler were harmless, since death isn’t high on my to-do list. Then I thought suddenly starting to swim would tip you off to the fact I’d been suspicious and I didn’t want to hurt you.” He runs a hand through his hair, “that song, though, Barclay, lord almighty is that what I want?”

“It’s what I want, I never sang it to bring you to me.”

“Oh.”

Barclay swims back to him, rubs their cheeks together, “Can I try something?”

“Anything” is all he gets out before he’s pulled into deeper water. He gasps for air, his own moans ricocheting across the room as Barclay bites his shoulder. On instinct his body tries to tread water, but copper scales trap his legs together, keep him flush against Barclay’s body.

“It’s okay babe, you can relax. I got you, I could keep us both afloat in my sleep.” He hums as he trails his lips across Joseph’s throat, “you’re safe. You’re with me.”

“Don’t make me leave.” The song pulls it out of him, because he wants to say it, wants to admit that losing what he has in Kepler terrifies him, just so he can hear-

“Never. You make me so fucking happy.” Barclay kisses him tenderly, keeps tracking his bite marks with a finger, “please stay. Stay for as long as you want."

"What if I want forever?" He rests his face on Barclay's shoulder as the siren spins them, dance-like, in the water.

"I think we can manage that."

[mermaidcashton]

i hate to admit it

author: claire (@mermaidcashton) ship: michael clifford/reader prompt/AU: this is a gift for the wonderful @h0tsos who wanted soft, subby Michael in an enemies to lovers capacity (and i snuck some coffee shop!au in there as well, and some weebness because, well, it’s Steff and Michael) wordcount: 4k+ warnings: swearing, alcohol mentions, explicit sexual content a/n: • written for @maluminspace & @h0tsos ‘s 5sos fic writers collab (which was a gift exchange this time around) • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘this means war’ by mariana’s trench • ‘my hero academia’ is a manga/anime series. there are references to it and a few of the characters in this but you don’t need to know anything about it to understand what’s going on.

i hate to admit it *** “So, they’re like...superheroes?” 

Luke sipped on his glass of rosé, nodding like he understood whilst making a face that showed he absolutely did not.

“Yeah, dude, pretty much!” Michael nodded along with your co-worker with so much enthusiasm he looked like one of those dogs people put on their dashboards. Except less cute. Wait, no - not cute. Definitely not cute at all. Good save, you. Couldn’t have your own internal monologue thinking you felt anything for the moron you were forced to work with 3 times a week was anything more than an annoyance you had to endure. With a butt that wouldn’t quit. Dammit, self! 

Michael took advantage of Luke showing an interest in his (and yours) favourite anime, and began bombarding him with half baked theories, predictable favourite scenes and shitty character analysis. He nearly knocked his own hat off as he flailed his hands around in an attempt at explaining the dynamics of a battle from the second season. Luke smiled politely. 

You snorted into your drink as you drained the last of it; you were definitely going to need another. If Michael started fanboying over Deku again, you were going to scream.

As you placed the empty bottle onto the wood of the coffee table, you took another glance around the apartment you were in. You’d never been up here before, despite spending a minimum of 20 hours a week in the coffee shop downstairs. But after this evening’s staff meeting tackling such issues as ‘who forgot that milk needs to be kept in the fridge overnight’ (Luke), ‘who is putting too much whipped cream on hot chocolates’ (Michael), and ‘who wrote ‘THIS COFFEE IS HOT, BUT U R HOTTER ❤ ) on a customers caramel macchiato’ (Luke again), Ashton had invited you all upstairs for a ‘employee chill’. You had been surprised a week or so into your employment when you had found out that the manager was also the owner who lived in the apartment above Screamin’ Beans; he was only in his mid twenties, but the more you’d experienced his drive and determination, the more your surprise had dwindled. Ashton really was a great guy, with one big flaw; Michael. They had been best friends for years, hence him moving into the apartment when he came back into town and the job Ashton had given him; which in your humble opinion was the equivalent of setting a monkey loose on the milk frother.   

Michael had sealed his fate with you the same day he’d started work. He arrived 10 minutes late (from upstairs), sleepy eyed and shy smiled. His fluffy blonde hair was spilling out of his beanie, and he kept biting his very pink lip bottom with sharp little teeth. The way he pronounced your name was adorable. You’d burned your hand on the espresso machine. Strike one. Things unravelled quickly after that. He was ‘too shy’ to take orders and work the register so you were stuck there all day talking to goddamn customers about why it wasn’t a good idea to have 3 pumps of every syrup while he hid behind silver machinery and dirtied way more jugs than you deemed necessary. Strike two. And then he’d dropped a latté into that ladies bag - sorry, very expensive bag. Michael had let out a ‘uuuhhh’ sound like a malfunctioning robot without moving for so long that the furious customer had stopped trying to yell at him and focused her rage on you instead. When he had eventually come to whatever passed for his senses, Michael had power walked into the employee bathroom and didn’t return until Calum arrived to join the shift and assured him the woman had left, twenty minute later. You were beyond strikes. You’d been so sure you could talk Ashton into scheduling you together as little as possible. There was no reason to put you down to work nearly every shift together, especially shifts where only two staff were on! Except, apparently there was because he kept fucking doing it. Every time you pressed Ashton on it, he’d say something about how he needed Michael ‘trained by the best’, or ‘matching availabilities’, or he thought their ‘energies combined well; auras are meshing, y’know?’ The one might have been on you for catching him as he was returning from his Vibe Check Yoga class at the studio down the street. 

He’d also emphasised that Michael needed more friends now he was back in the city, and you two had loads in common! You both liked pop punk! You’d rolled your eyes. And Italian food! A ‘tch noise. And anime! Okay, you’d bite. 

The next time you’d gone into work, you’d engaged Michael in a conversation about ‘Tokyo Ghoul’ and recommended ‘Demon Slayer’; things started to pick up. You didn’t fantasise about locking Michael in the walk-in fridge the whole shift. And then…

“You watch ‘My Hero Academia’, right?” “Uh, yeah! I love it.” “Me too! I just ordered a Todoroki tee yesterday. And another Deku one, of course; gotta rep my main man!” “Oh..cool! He’s your favourite?” Of course Michael was a basic bitch. But hey, that’s fine. Deku was fine. He was the main character, after all. And he’s a little less whiny in the recent manga issues, you guess. And the way Michael’s face was right now - open, comfortable, lit up like the 4th of July? That was good, too. His eyes were so green.  “Yeah! Who’s your favourite character?” “Well, I would die for a bunch of ‘em, but I’m a Bakugou girl at heart.” You laid a palm flat on your chest, choosing to ignore the feel of your heart beating faster than it had been five minutes ago beneath it.  Michael wrinkled his nose. “Bakugou? But he’s like...he’s so mean! And angry!”

Oh no. You’d had this conversation before. You locked eyes with Michael, hoping he could see the warning in your eyes. Don’t do it, ho.

“Like, he’d probably make a better villain than hero!”

“You okay, boo?” Calum slid into the space on the couch beside you, holding out a fresh beer for you to take. “You look deep in thought.”

You hummed and accepted the bottle from him, letting go of your train of thought as you caught sight of Luke trying to prove he could get his overly long leg behind his head. Michael and Ashley F. were both actively trying to avoid getting kicked in the face with a sparkly boot, whilst Ashton was just monitoring the situation very intently; you’re not entirely sure when he last blinked. 

You snorted again as Luke’s foot slotted into place in a position you were 85% sure he would not be able to get out of again without assistance, possibly from the emergency services.

“I’m fine. Gotta be one of us capable of thinking here, y’know.” You teased, looking sidelong at Calum. He laughed, rubbing a hand over his freshly shaved hair; he’d always been as easy to get along with as he was obnoxiously handsome. “Hey! You’re lucky I know you’re talking about the human pretzel over there! And I guess, your boyf-” Big brown eyes glittered at you over the hand you’d slapped over his mouth. “-fwendth.” Narrowing your own eyes at your friend, you hissed. “Shut up! I would rather die.” Calum waggled his eyebrows incessantly at you until you relented and dropped your hand. “You knew who I was talking about, though.” Ugh. Smug was not a good look on Calum. “You know, smug is not a good lo-oh fuck, is that the time?” The clock behind Calum’s head showed 8:58; your auction ended at 9:00. You fumbled into your bag for your phone, unlocking it and flicking straight to the app you needed. Phew - still the top bid. “Whatcha doin’?” Calum hooked his chin over your shoulder, blowing your hair out of his face before settling down. 

“Bidded on a really cool, limited edition figure. One of my all time favourite anime characters. The auction is about to end.” You explained,  making sure Calum could hear you other the cacophony of sounds associated with Luke trying to get his other leg behind his head. You both watched the seconds tick down, your username sitting securely by the words ‘Winning Bid’. At two seconds to nine, the page refreshed, then refreshed again; it was over.

‘Winning Bid: BIGRED69’ “Uh...what happened? That’s not you, right?” Calum asked, tilting his head to look at your face, and the rage it contained. BIGRED69. He’d done it again. 

“Uh oh, Y/N - what’s wrong?” Ashton’s voice pulled you out of your internal screaming, and you looked up at him. 

“She’s losing her weeb shit at a heavy eBay loss” Calum answered for you, nodding solemnly as he pulled away from you, giving you room to bonk him with a cushion. “Oh! That’s too bad, but that’s another thing you and Mikey have in common!” Ashton beamed. “Mikey!” Oh no. Oh no, no.

“Yeah?” Michael sloped over, getting his black boot caught on the corner of the leopard print rug as he did. Ashton caught him with an ease you suspected (knew) came from practice. “Why don’t you take Y/N to see your anime dolls? She collects them, too!” Ashton looked so pleased with himself and his suggestion for further ‘bonding’ for you and Michael, and Michael looked like he’d been force fed raw lemon at the phrase ‘anime dolls’, so you let it go on your own behalf. Except now Michael was waiting expectantly for you to follow him to his room and Calum was shoving you off of the couch to get you moving. Fuck your life. You sighed as you got up and started walking. “Fine, let’s go; you can show me your Todoroki body pillow and then we can get on with our lives.” Michael let out a small hiss like an angry kitten, his cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He spared a glance at everyone left in your wake. “I, um, don’t have a body pillow, you guys.” “Suuuuure!” You rolled your eyes, waiting for Michael to enter his bedroom so you could follow. The blonde flicked the light on and moved slightly further in so you could pass him, before shutting the door with a small ‘click’. You decided not to comment on this action, looking around at the posters on the walls and figurines on the shelves instead. You were undecided on whether or not you were going to comment on how cool a lot of Michael’s shit was. A ‘Full Metal Alchemist’ poster over his bed, a full shelf of Funko Pops from movies you loved, framed prints of album artwork by Waterparks and The Maine. Fuck. You were really aware of Michael staring at you with an almost hopeful (?) look on his face as you let your eyes travel around his room before he could show you his ‘anime dolls’. Fuck. Your stomach felt fluttery, and you thought you might have a serious problem here, before you caught sight of a very different problem on Michael’s desk. 

A rare Kirishima Eijirou statue - box signed by the voice actor - you’d been outbid on last month. By BIGRED69. What were the chances a different one was sitting by Michael’s laptop?

“So,” You said, trying to keep your voice neutral and non-murderous. “Where do you get your collectibles from?” “Forbidden Planet, Tokyo Toys, eBay…” Michael rattled off, until you interrupted him. “Where did you get that one? Looks rare - it must have been difficult!” 

“Oh! eBay! It was, but I have an app for it, so…” Michael grinned, looking pleased with himself. An app? “An automatic bidding app? You sniped me?! That’s cheating!” You squeaked; you could not believe this. It was unbelievable.

Michael blinked at you, head empty. “BIGRED69?!” You managed to make the world’s stupidest screen name sound like a terrible accusation. Which it was.

Comprehension dawned on his stupid, beautiful face all at once. “Oh my God! That was you that I’ve been fighting for this stuff? No way! But you didn’t know it was me?”

“Why the hell would I know it was you!” You threw your hands up, and Michael just stared dopily back at you.

“‘Bigred69?! Obviously I assumed you were 12!” Michael let out a squawk of protest, before folding his arms defensively across his chest.

“Clifford!” “What?” Michael’s tone became more insistent. “My last name! Clifford!” You pulled an exaggerated ‘so?!’ face, throwing your hand in the air again. 

Michael had the unmitigated gall to huff, like you were the biggest idiot in the room; like he wasn’t always the biggest idiot in every room, all rooms, ever, in the history of rooms. “Clifford the Big Red Dog!” He said, insistence heavy in the words.

You often swore you could almost hear the old internet dial up tone trilling inside Michael’s brain when customers at the coffee shop asked him such difficult questions as “What dairy alternative milks do you carry?”, “Where is the bathroom?”, and even once - you swear - “What’s your name?”. In Michael’s defence, that last one had been asked in more flirtatious-than-not tone by a brunette who clearly had some kind of vision problem (he’d been dressed more horrendously than usual that day beneath his uniform apron; was that a utility vest?!), but had fluttered her eyelashes at your idiot colleague so hard, for so long, you’d been concerned she’d be leaving without what little vision she’d arrived with. But still. Idiot. Michael, not you. And yet, now it was you with your brain puttering through the information you had with the shrill electronic sound of the 90’s in your head. “Clifford the- are you for fucking real?” This could not be real life.

“It’s totally clever!” Michael asserted, continuing in earnest once you scoffed in reply. “No, listen! Because of Clifford, and also, I had red hair when I made it, and 69 is funny - it is! - and, well-” His face flushed slightly before he puffed his chest out a little, apparently deciding to commit to his defence of his screen name. “I’m big, so it works on like, loads of levels!” 

This could not be happening to you. You were decidedly not standing in the bedroom of a coworker you simultaneously couldn’t stand and also couldn’t stop thinking about kissing as you restocked the counter fridges in the evenings, as he explained that his auction site handle was a combination of a previous dye job, an insinuation about his dick and a massive fucking dog. You could not let Michael have the upper hand here, but you were floundering. So you fell into more familiar, more pathetic territory. 

“If you were called something like ‘deku-loving-loser’, then, sure - I would have known it was you!” “Who’s 12 now?!” “Uh, still you!” Okay, so this wasn’t your finest moment, but you were in it now. And you’d really wanted the Kaminari figure tonight. Michael didn’t even like him that much!

“The point is, you totally sniped me! And you get stuff about basic canon wrong! And your understanding of the characters is one dimensional! And, and...your hat is stupid!” Well, shit. In your defence, Michael’s hat was stupid. You could feel how hot your face was, and Michael’s eyes looking right at it was only making it worse. You couldn’t read his expression at all; he looked like he was searching for something, and you didn’t know what it was, or if he’d find it. You could only assume he had when he took the most decisive steps you’d ever seen him take, reaching you in two huge steps and cupping your face with both hands. Michael kissed in a way he didn’t do anything else; he felt sure and certain as he pressed his lips to yours, moving them with intent. Your brain became overtaken with television static almost immediately as you moved your mouth in time with his, opening your mouth immediately at the questioning press of his tongue. You had enough of yourself left aware to yank his stupid fucking hat off his head as you tangled your fingers in his blonde hair, Michael’s hands sliding down to clutch at your waist as you swayed with the kiss. As Michael pulled back ever so slightly, you took the opportunity to press your teeth into his plush bottom lip, the way you’d thought of doing in afternoon slumps on shift. The whine that came from deep in Michael’s throat made a split second decision for you. 

You pulled back further from Michael, yanking your top off in one go and starting in on the buttons of his black shirt before he fully registered the sight of your bra and the top of your full breasts.  

“Shit, Y/N, are you…” Michael trailed off as you pulled his sleeves down his arms, and the shirt off this body. Your eyes met his as you popped the button on his black jeans and placed your hand on his zipper. “Do you really want me to overthink this, Michael?” A moment’s pause, then he shook his head vigorously, leaning down to pull his boots off once you’d yanked his jeans to his knees. By the time he was left in his (funnily enough, black) boxer briefs, you’d discarded your own jeans and were knelt at the foot of his bed in your soft, lilac underwear. Michael’s breath hitched as his gaze drifted down your body, taking it all in under the artificial light of the room. “Get over here, Clifford…” You teased, trying not to second guess what was happening. Michael broke out of his trance and more or less threw himself onto the bed, settling his head on the pillows and pulling you on top of him for another kiss, and then another, and another. By the time you pulled back to catch your breath, your head was spinning. You braced yourself on your forearms on the bed, taking the time to admire Michael’s body beneath you. 

You’d seen the tattoos on his pale, strong arms before, but they looked different in this context; the contrast between the milky skin and dark ink made your stomach swoop. The blonde hair on his head is also a contradiction; to the dark hair on his chest and the hair trailing down his stomach and disappearing under his waistband. Your mouth felt very dry as you let your gaze continue downward, to the straining bulge beneath the fabric.

You flicked your eyes back to meet Michael’s in question, your fingers suddenly resting on the waistband of his underwear. Michael swallowed thickly, and then nodded once before fixing you with a gaze of pure anticipation. 

No use waiting around. You propped yourself up onto your knees over him and pulled on the fabric decisively, not stopping your motion until his underwear bunched up at his ankles. Holy shit.

You always knew Michael had to have at least one redeeming quality, and you’d finally found it. His cock was huge, hanging heavy and hard between his fuzzy thighs. The head was flushed the darkest pink you could ever remember seeing, and the slit was already shiny with precum. 

If a voice in your head that sounded unfortunately like Calum pressed that Michael had lots of qualities you secretly found redeeming, you ignored it in favour of getting straight to business.

“FUCK! FUCKIN-” 

Apparently, Michael hadn’t been prepared for you to take half of his impressive length into your mouth in one go. You sucked with intent, casting your eyes up to take in the sight of him. His pupils were already starting to blow, and you’d barely done anything. God, that was so sweet.

But then Michael threaded his fingers through your hair, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your scalp. The blonde wasn’t pushing down, but his grip was firm. You could feel the weight of his hand on the top of your head as you held his cock in your mouth, and that shit? Would not stand.

You grab the wrist brushing your hair a second before your other hand finds his idle one, fingers twisted loosely in the sheets. Once you’ve captured both wrists, you guide both to the same point above Michael’s hips, before slamming both into the mattress with purpose. 

If you’d had time to think about it, you’re not sure how you would have expected Michael to react. He didn’t really put out the energy of a man who’d properly fight you for control, either in a domineering way or with more of an air of fragile masculinity. Perhaps a bit of questioning but ultimately compliant as long as he got his dick sucked. But the wanton moan that kicked out of Michael’s chest as you settled into a tight grip on his wrists where you had them pinned on the sheets with intent? That was unexpected. That was interesting.   

Your mouth had remained still on his cock whilst you got his wrists pinned down, more cockwarming him than blowing him. But now you had him so pliant and under your control, it was go time. You pulled back up his cock, wrapping your lips tightly around the head of Michael’s cock, and sucked with gusto. Another groan from above you. You worked your tongue all the way around the head before pulling back enough to flick it into Michael’s sensitive slit. “Oh my fuuu- Y/N, God, I-” Michael was starting to writhe, his hairy legs rubbing into the sheets beneath you. You could feel his wrists moving along with the rest of his body, but you knew you’d made it clear you’d wanted him pinned, and he made no move to get his hand free. Good boy. You sank steadily back down Michael’s length, at least to the six inch mark, before pulling back up, hollowing your cheeks as you went. Back down a little further, then up, back to teasing the head, using your tongue. Michael couldn’t predict what you were going to do next, and it was clearly pushing all of his buttons. You could taste the precum that his cock kept kicking out into your mouth and throat, and see the flush spreading down his neck. By the time you’d pulled, drool beginning to build at the sides of your mouth, Michael was a mess, moaning as much as he was breathing. This could get addictive, you thought to yourself as you let your mouth drop to his balls, and your thumbs press into the pulse points on his wrists. You hummed before you released his left ball from your mouth with a wet pop, and that’s when Michael started begging. “Please, please, Y/N, I wanna-” he panted, cutting himself off over and over. “You’re so beautiful, lemme- God, fuck, it feels so amazing, you’re- I’ve been good, I’ll do anything, please…”

You pretend to consider his pleas as you dragged your tongue over his right ball, dipping into all the creases and leaving them wet behind you. Drawing back up onto your knees, you released one of his wrists so you could push his sweaty blonde bangs back from where it was plastered to his forehead, drinking in the vision before you. His green eyes were nearly completely black, blown out with arousal. The sheen on the skin of his face and body made him glow. His lips were chapped from his teeth tugging on them, and the pink of the matched the flush spread from his cheeks down his chest. And the wrist you were no longer restraining hadn’t moved a centimeter, still pressed firmly to the mattress. Michael was a good boy. And you knew how to treat good boys. With no preamble, you took Michael back into the wet heat of your mouth, relaxing your throat and not stopping until your nose was buried in the soft thatch of trimmed hair on his crotch. You took a moment to situate yourself and enjoy the deep whines bursting out of Michael’s throat into the quiet of his bedroom, before you began to move again, swallowing around his cock. You saw his thighs begin to tremble to the side of you before you heard him speak. “Fuck, fuck, Y/N, please, I’m gonna-” You hummed as hard as you could, pushing Michael’s wrists with that little bit more force into the bed as you did. Michael let out his loudest whine yet - bordering on a sob- as he came, shooting down your throat as he writhed beneath you. 

You swallowed everything he gave you, and when you were sure he was finished, you pulled off slowly, and gently, releasing his wrists as you stood back up on your knees.

Michael looked blissed out, staring dreamily up at you with bright, adoring eyes. He still was yet to move his hands. “Hey.” “Hi.” You smirked down at him. “I believe I heard something about you’d ‘do anything’?” You shot a quick glance at the figurine on his desk, and down at yourself. “I had some ideas…” 

collab masterlist • my masterlist

[simsadventures]

Morning Madness

Summary: You’re pregnant with Dean’s baby, and the hormones are getting to you. And both Sam and Dean need to deal with it accordingly.

Warnings: pure fluff, pregnant reader, fluffy and protective Dean, morning sickness, hormonal reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 1672 A/N: This short piece was written for my lovely @holylulusworld​ and her followers celebration #lulus4kwritingchallenge, with the prompt being 4. Fix this or I will break your face (the prompt is in bold in the text). I haven’t written Dean for a long time, and this really got me excited. Let me guys know what you think :) xx

Dean Masterlist __ Masterlist

The smell. It was making you shiver all over your body. You honestly couldn’t decide if it was making you nauseous, or if the need to throw up was now something constant in your life, despite what you smelled.

That didn’t change anything on the fact that someone was currently frying eggs, even if you specifically asked them not to until your morning sickness subsides. Just the thought of those eggs scrabbled on the pan sent you flying towards the bathroom, where you spent good 10 minutes trying to calm your stomach down. With no avail. The smell was now embedded in your nose, and every time you took a breath, you could smell.

You would even bet the whole bunker now smelt like those freaking eggs, and despite feeling like complete shit, you were starting to be pissed too. Was it so hard not to eat eggs for two freaking weeks? Were you asking that much? Your blood was boiling while you stood up, checked yourself in a mirror quickly, and strolling towards the kitchen.

Whichever brother was having that breakfast would wish he never woke up that morning. You would make sure of it. And if it was Dean… phew, he would be in it deep. Every morning for the past two weeks, while trying to get to the bathroom in time, you cursed Dean and his great idea to have a child together. It will be fun, he said, we’re gonna be complete and so happy, he said. Bullshit.

When you first found out you were pregnant, you were both over the moon. You couldn’t stop smiling, and Sam joined you in the enthusiasm. He knew how much you two wanted it, and he couldn’t wait to be an uncle. Those were a few very happy, very calm days. Those were, however, long gone, and they were replaced by your mood swings and usual mornings spent bent over a toilet.

Dean tried to calm your stomach few times, but you always swatted his hand away, telling him this was all his fault, that if he kept his member in his pants, you wouldn’t have to feel like a complete shit now. He knew you didn’t mean it that seriously, but didn’t want to try his luck, so he always just kissed the top of your head, and left you to it.

So every single morning, Dean tried to do pretty much anything to get out of your way. He knew you’d calm down eventually, and that he’d be able to touch around 10 or 11 AM, but right after you woke, that was a big no-no.

And just the thought of him trying to piss you off by frying freaking eggs, sent you raging to the kitchen. To your utter surprise, it wasn’t your husband singing silently, and obliviously making himself a breakfast for champions.

“Are you fucking serious?” You yelled a little louder than you intended. Sam obviously dint hear you coming, because he jumped up, gasped so loud you’d actually laugh if you weren’t so damn sick and pissed, and he turned around, confused look all over his face.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, you scared the life out of me!” He was holding his chest and still breathing a little too heavily. He smiled up at you, but when he saw the daggers in your eyes, his smile faltered. In that exact moment, Dean walked into the kitchen. He stopped dead in his tracks, seeing your pissed of expression, trying to determine what happened this time. When he took a whiff of the air, all questions were answered in his head, and he smirked. He wasn’t the one in the wrong this time, and he was sure as hell about to enjoy it.

You shot Dean a glare just for him so that he wouldn’t think he was out of the woods, just because you were currently angry at Sam. He was still the one to impregnate you, so this whole thing was his fault in your mind.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind, Samuel?” He was still staring at you as if he didn’t know what he did.

“I’m sorry?” He said meekly, offering you a shy smile, still very much unsure why you were so pissed at him. But it didn’t matter, he would apologise and wait for you to cool down. Both he and his brother realised that this was the only way to survive the morning madness.

“Why are you doing this to me, Sam? Do you hate me, or something? I mean I just can’t wrap my head around this.” By the time you finished the questions, you were sniffling, and tears were streaming down your cheeks. Damn these hormones, you thought.

“I honestly have no idea what I did, but whatever it was-“ you cut him off. “You’re making yourself these fucking eggs, even though I specifically told you both how sick they made me feel, even if I only smelt them. I almost hurled in my bed this morning because of you.”

The realisation dawned on him, and he made those famous puppy eyes on you, so you would forgive him. “I am so sorry, Y/N. I totally forgot about that, and when I saw the eggs here this morning, I just… I didn’t think, and I’m truly sorry.”

You were still crying and just dismissed Sam, turned around, and all but ran towards your and Dean’s shared room. You knew you were being ridiculous, but you couldn’t help yourself.

The second Sam heard the door click shut, he huffed. “Man, I really didn’t mean to make her angry, I just… I craved eggs, and I forgot, damn.”

Dean was no longer smirking, he hated seeing you hurt, no matter if it was because a werewolf left a claw in your upper arm, or because Sam made himself breakfast. He was there to protect you no matter what.

“She wanted just one thing from us, man, and you can’t keep even that in mind. Aren’t you supposed to be the smarter one of the two of us? Just go, Sam. Fix this or I’ll break your face.”

Sam looked at him, quizzically. “You wanna break my face because your pregnant and hormonal wife is crying?”

Dean was now standing, puffing his chest at Sam. “She might be emotional, but you still made her cry, so go and do something about it, I’m not gonna clean up your mess. Go and apologise Mr Forgetful.”

“Ugh, fine, I’m going, calm down, I can’t deal with both of you being emotional.”

Dean just rolled his eyes and watched Sam leave the kitchen. He knew he’d have to go in, no matter if Sam apologised or not. These hormonal scenes always tired the hell out of you, and you always found comfort in Dean’s arms after them.

Sam knocked softly on your door. You opened them, still crying a little, and he smiled down at you. You were like a little sister to him, and he hated to see you cry, even more, when it was about something he said or did. “Listen, Y/N-“ he truly wanted to apologise, but you didn’t let him.

“No, Sam, I’m sorry. I was overreacting and yelled at you for an idiotic thing! I didn’t mean to, so, I’m sorry.”

Your lower lip trembled again, and a sob ripped through you. “Don’t, Y/N. You’re growing a person in you, you have every right to be emotional and angry, sweetheart. I’m an ass and should remember the one thing you asked of us. It won’t happen again, I promise.”  

He hugged you tightly, and you sobbed into his chest. But your body wouldn’t calm down, because this was the wrong brother. You needed Dean, and you needed him now. You looked up to Sam, who just nodded knowingly, kissed the top of your head, and went to fetch Dean.

He didn’t even say anything, because the second he walked into the kitchen, Dean stood up, patted Sam’s shoulder and rushed towards your room. The sight inside made his heart clench a bit. You were sitting on a bed, your knees under your chin, and you were quietly sobbing.

The moment you saw him, you made a gesture of grabby hands towards him, and he smiled a little. Even full of hormones, your first reaction was to have him by your side, and his heart swelled suddenly. He loved you too much for his own good because he’d do anything you asked, especially at that very moment.

“What do you need, baby girl?” he asked softly, as he neared the bed to tug you in his arms.

“Can you just sit with me here, for a second?” you whispered when you were comfortably seated on Dean’s lap. He kissed your forehead, and you hummed, appreciating the closeness between the two of you.

“I’m a hormonal mess, Dean. Can you love someone like that, screaming at your brother basically for being hungry?”

He laughed a little and kissed you again. “I love you even more for screaming at Sam, baby. And you’re no mess. Nobody gets to talk about my wife like that, not even my wife.”

When you looked up, you could see Dean already staring back at you. And the way his emerald eyes looked you, made all the worries, all the anger and sadness wash away. The love and adoration were written all over his face, and you suddenly felt the urge to kiss him. It took him by surprise, but when he realised what was happening, his arms tightened around your waist, and he kissed you back. You smiled into the kiss, feeling sated and happy for the moment.

Your mornings were mad these days, but one thing you could count on was Dean’s undying love for you, and you knew he’d make the best father for your unborn child. And the fear and nervousness of your upcoming motherhood were washed away. At least till the next morning.

Forever Tag:

@eileenalone​

[okageshadowkingfannovel]

Book 2: Chapter 3

“Finally! I feel as if we’ve been putting this off for weeks!”

This is the farthest Ari’s ever been on the path leading out of Tenel village. The villager that’s usually on guard duty is suspiciously absent. Ari stands on that spot, staring at the path that snakes its way through the forest, meets the bridge crossing the river, and then dissolves into the open fields. He swallows hard, trying to steel himself.

“Wouldn’t you agree, slave?” King Stan prattles on, “I mean, it really feels like we’ve had two or three weeks of solid stalling. So. Much. Wasted. Time.”

Ari rolls his eyes, distracted just for a moment from the yawning unknown laid out before him in the daylight. Placing a hand on the sharpened fruit knife on his belt, he takes a deep breath and begins to walk.

It’s going to be ok, he tells himself, it’s going to be ok. It’s going to be ok. I just have to walk really, really fast. Is that a ticking sound?

Ari pauses and looks around along the ground.

“Just one second, Stan,” says Ari before the evil king can roar at him with impatient rage, “found it!”

The ticking leads him to a small patch of grass where a tiny gear waits. It looks just like the one found behind the Nameless Dwelling and just like that one, it stops ticking the moment Ari touches it.

He hears Stan growling.

“Burning …”

“Alright! Alright! I’m going!” Ari protests as he slips the gear into a pocket where it can join its brother.

The boy can’t help but notice that he’s developing a strange new hobby - gear collecting.

I guess it suits an uncool weirdo like me …

Eventually, Ari finds himself at the bridge. It crosses a small ravine that cuts the border of the field. The river tracing down the middle of it flows with a peaceful ease, not at all reflecting the dangers that lay beyond. The bridge itself seems sturdy and safe. It’s made of thick slabs of pale wood. Nothing about the bridge or the ravine or the river gives Ari the slightest hint of worry.

It’s the grassy expanse on the other side, dotted with trees and bushes and bunches of wild grass and suspicious looking patches of bluish fog, that make his heart race and his skin go grossly clammy.

It’s going to be ok. It’s going to be ok. You have Sta- … you have a fruit knife. That’s something.

In preparation, Ari pulls free the fruit knife and holds it ready. He begins to carefully cross the bridge. The farther he goes and the more things don’t happen, the better he begins to feel. The calming sounds of the water below and birds singing from far off in their trees start to soothe the pounding of his heart. Once he gets to the bridge’s midpoint, he might even dare to call himself relaxed.

See? It’s fine. So far, so good …

As soon as the thought passes through his head, a little white cloud fades into view at the far end of the bridge. It possesses wide, yellow eyes and bobs up and down in that all too familiar, ghostly way.

Of course.

Ari stops and Stanley pops up behind him.

“Oh, here is some low class evil being like the one in the church that I smashed for you.”

“It seems so, Evil King Stan.”

“But slave, you should improve your skills.”

“Improve my … what now?”

“Now, slave, destroy the one there. A true servant of mine should be able to do this easily. Now, go!”

Stan suddenly sinks back down, leaving Ari awkwardly and pathetically alone with nothing but a fruit knife.

Ok … ok … ok ok ok. It’s just one ghost, right? I have the fruit knife and … and maybe I can figure out the whole overdrive thing.

“O-o-verdri-”

Before Ari can say the word, a bone-chilling ‘boo’ pipes up from behind him. He turns to see a red ghost coming up from behind, growling and eying him up like a particularly easy and delicious snack.

Stupidly, Ari brandishes the fruit knife, whipping back and forth between the two ghosts. Even he thinks he looks pathetic as the knife shakes violently in his fear plagued fingers.

“St-Stanley? K-k-k-k-king Stanley … uh …”

Nothing happens. The ghosts continue to approach, forcing Ari into the middle of the most unfortunate sandwich of his life.

“Uh … ok … um, h-hello, guys … girls … um, whatever you are.”

The ghosts say nothing - not even a ‘boo.’

“I’m really sorry. I-I just got a little lost. This is your bridge, isn’t it? It’s a nice bridge. Very sturdy. I’ll just … leave your nice bridge alone so I don’t … um, sully it.”

Unfortunately, neither ghost seems inclined to move aside to let him pass.

Whelp, I guess this is it … not even 5 seconds into the wild and I’m about to be eaten.

He feels the stinky, icy breath of peckish ghost death bearing down upon him, caressing his face and slipping down the back of his neck.

“Wait a minute!”

An angel?

The thought is cliché, but being seconds away from being ghost-food, Ari isn’t expecting to hear female voices from anything on the earthly plane. Quickly following it, there come the heavy sounds of running boots hitting wooden planks. The whole event passes in a blur. A series of swish-swish sounds whirlwind around him and a fast passing body knocks him to the ground.

Dizzily, Ari looks up to find the first ghost fading away into nothing. Looking over his shoulder, he finds a similar fate befalling the second.

“Phew! Recently, there have been so many cruddy ghosts floating around. Are you ok?”

Ari gets up slowly, shaking his head to clear the dizziness. He turns and where there was once a ghost, there now stands a beautiful woman.

He shakes his head a bit more and rubs at his eyes for good measure.

She’s still standing there in a very un-hallucination-like manner, staring at him with increasing concern.

The mysterious woman seems to be in her early twenties. She has a slender, but subtly muscular build. It reminds Ari of a dancer, but cooler. She wears a long military style coat with blue trim, shiny gold fasteners, and epaulets. Heavy, calf high boots explain the footsteps Ari heard earlier. And the thin, wickedly sharp sword in her right hand explains the fate of the ghosts.

“Um … are you ok?”

Her face is gorgeous. She has large yellow brown eyes and a firmly set, heroic countenance. A headband that looks suspiciously like a buckled belt keeps back shoulder length locks of golden honey colored hair. In her non-sword holding hand, she carries a delicate pink parasol, keeping her in a patch of cool looking shade.

“Hello?” she says as she smoothly sheaths her sword.

“Oh! Um … y-yeah. I-I’m ok … thanks to you. That was so coo-”

“Don’t walk around so vulnerable like that! You don’t even have a weapon!”

As if in his own defense, Ari holds up the fruit knife. It takes him just a fraction of a millisecond to realize how stupid the defense is.

“What an optimistic attitude! I can’t believe it! Hold on a sec.”

Before Ari can recover his first impression, she passes by him and crosses the bridge to recover a ridiculously large bag that had been thrown to the grass in her haste. Without dropping the parasol or losing a hint of coolness, she rummages around among the bag’s contents.

“Here we are,” she says, slipping out a sheathed sword.

The mysterious woman runs back up to Ari on the bridge.

“Here, take this!” shes says, shoving the sword into Ari’s hand. “You’ll have much better luck fighting ghosts with this.”

“Um, th-thank you. Are you su-”

“It’s a cheapie, but it’s better than that,” she says, nodding towards the fruit knife. “You know how to use a sword, right?”

“Uh, stab it until it dies?”

Her face looks grim, but still cool. “Good enough, I guess. Just … you know, don’t be a sissy. Got it? Ghosts can smell an easy, fearful meal from a mile away. They’ll be all over you if you don’t toughen up a bit.”

“Right! Thank you! … um, can I have your na-”

“Oh no! It’s already that late! I have to go or he’ll … I gotta go!”

The mysterious woman suddenly takes off running, back from whence she came.

“Good luck, kid!” she calls over her shoulder.

Ari watches until she disappears into the fog and wild grass and trees.

“Damn!”

Ari jumps.

“I didn’t have time to appear! Who was that anyway?!”

“Probably the coolest person I’ve ever met …” he replies wistfully as he looks down at the leftover sword.

Ari returns the fruit knife to its clip and sets to work strapping the sword sheath to his belt.

“You are a pathetic thing, slave. Two lowly beings show up and you cower like a troll!”

“Well, it’s not like I have any powers that will cause things to be consumed by black flames of infinite evil … like somebody I know.”

“On top of that, you were saved by some passing hag!”

“Hag? Are you nuts? She was so cool! Plus, she gave me this!”

With a clumsy flourish, Ari whips out the sword. It’s light enough to be shakily lifted by one arm. The edges seem comfortingly sharp, glinting in the sunlight.

King Stan sighs angrily. “Oh well. Be grateful that my evil hand is merciful to my servants. Seeing how pathetic you are in battle, maybe I’ll render you aid from time to time.”

“Well, that’s good of you … nice knowing my life means so much to you that you may help out.”

“But you must still become stronger! Discipline yourself by making your way to Madril and giving any lower being that crosses your path a good thrashing! We’re going to have issues if you can’t protect yourself. Don’t forget that your shadow houses the great Evil King Stan!”

With that, the great Evil King Stan disappears and Ari’s left alone with nothing but a sword and a ghost infested open field.

Somehow, despite such a disastrous start, Ari doesn’t feel as doomed as he did before. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with the sword clutched in his right hand. Thinking of how cool the mysterious woman was, he slashes the air, enjoying the wind cutting swish noise it makes.

Ok … let’s try this setting out thing one more time.

NOTE: Okage Shadow King is owned by Sony Computer Entertainment and Zener Works. This novelization is purely a fan-work and the writer claims no ownership over the characters, general plot line(s), etc.

[fanfoolishness]

a world for the birds (2/10)

Andy DeMayo took up birding years ago, but his favorite hobby takes on new meaning when shared with his nephew Steven.

A series of looks at Andy and Steven’s growing family relationship.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

 ***

Chapter 2: complicated

Andy tried not to get his hopes up too much.  After all, Steven was a teenager, and Andy himself had been in his late twenties before he’d really started paying attention to birds.  Just wasn’t an activity you saw a lot of kids doing.  Most of the people he ran into on his travels with binoculars were older than he was.

He tried to prepare himself for the inevitability of Steven having lost interest since last month, for him to cheerfully admit he hadn’t cracked open the Sibley’s at all and would rather go to the arcade or hang out with his friends.  And that would be okay, the kid gave it a shot and he didn’t like it, and that was still pretty good, right?

He was utterly dumbfounded to walk up the steps to the beach house and see Steven sitting there, binoculars around his neck, the Sibley’s flipped open to hawks.  “Uncle Andy!  I’m glad you’re here.  Is that an osprey?”  Steven pulled off his binoculars and handed them to Andy, pointing out a ways beyond the surf.

It took him a moment to adjust Steven’s binoculars, but Andy grinned once he got the bird in sights.  The osprey hovered above the waves, white wings with black patches stretched wide, large keen eyes in a clever face watching for signs of fish below.  “Sure is.  You really been keeping up with this stuff?  I mean, you don’t have to if it’s not your thing.”

Steven smiled up at him.  “Well -- I mean, it’s something you really like, right?  And it’s something we can do together.  I dunno, I think that’s cool.  I love playing music with my dad, or helping the Gems build Little Homeschool, or training with Connie -- it’s something you and me can share.  And it’s fun.  I always thought animals were really cool, but I’m really getting into the life list thing.  Like collecting G.U.Y.S. and G.A.L.S. toys, but real.”

“Yeah, that makes sense, kid.  I think,” said Andy.  “Huh.  You’re a very positive person, you know that?”

Steven laughed.  “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“So what’s this Little Homeschool thing?  You guys building something?”

Steven looked guilty for a second, a furtive wince.  “You remember Garnet's wedding?"

"I remember runnin' for my life when a spaceship showed up," Andy snorted.  "Yeah."

"You know we lost the barn then, right?”

"Nah, I just got outta there as fast as I could.  Didn't get a chance to reconnect with your dad until weeks after that."  Andy sighed, gnawing on his bottom lip with his teeth.  “I did notice it wasn’t there the last few times I’ve flown out this way.  Meant to ask about it at the wedding, actually, but something distracted me... don't remember what...."

"Aw, come on, Uncle Andy," Steven said, raising his eyebrows.

"So what happened to it?  Some magic stuff?”

“Yeah… my friend Lapis kinda ran off with it to the moon, then she dropped it on one of my Mom’s relatives.   They're the ones who were attacking us at the wedding.  The barn didn’t make it,” said Steven, looking sheepish.

“I don’t even wanna know how she took it to the moon.  The actual moon?  I mean, I know your space family, y’know, comes from space, but I thought they used spaceships and stuff. Not barns.”  Andy shook his head.  He had to figure out how to stop being surprised by the stuff that came out of this kid’s mouth.

“She has water powers and can fly,” said Steven matter-of-factly.  “Gems don’t need to breathe in space, so all she had to do was surround the barn with water and fly it up there --”

“Yeah, when you put it like that, it sounds so easy,” Andy chuckled.

“I know it’s weird,” said Steven in a rush.  “Who just flies off with a barn to the moon, right?  But anyway, since the barn didn’t survive the fight we had with my mom’s relatives, the land was free.  There’s a lot more Gems living on Earth than there used to be -- I mean, it’s complicated, but that’s the gist of it -- and they needed somewhere to live.  So they’ve started building a little colony near Beach City.  Mayor Nanefua did some complicated government stuff to make it all legal and it’s going really well.  We could go on a tour, if you want --”

Andy didn’t know why his chest felt so heavy so suddenly.  He’d known the barn was gone for a few months, didn’t know what had happened, but knew it had to be something related to the blue and green ladies that lived there.  He’d already made his peace with that.  So why did Steven’s explanation make him feel a little bit like crap?  He thought of his mom and dad tinkering in the barn, the smell of grease and metal, summers with Greg and the other cousins running around in the fields, and he blinked hard.

“Are you okay, Uncle Andy?” asked Steven uncertainly.  “Maybe we should have asked you first--”

“Nah, it’s fine,” said Andy.  And it was, or at least, it would be.  “I don’t have a lotta time this visit, but maybe next time we could go check it out.”  He shrugged.  “Why are there more Gems now?”

“Oh!  Well, there actually were a lot of Gems on Earth, but they were corrupted -- jeez, how do I explain that -- they were sick and that made them act really weird and look like monsters.  They didn’t know who they were.  But the Diamonds and I -- my mom’s relatives -- we healed them.  They’re just like Garnet and Amethyst and Pearl now.”  He considered.  “Okay, maybe not exactly.  They still look a little different and they lost thousands of years of memories, but they’re trying the best they can to get back into a normal life…”  His voice trailed off.

Andy stared, raising an eyebrow.  “That sounds, uh, intense.”

Steven held his hands out, shrugging.  “I guess it kind of does.”

“Why’d your mom’s folks help you with that?  I thought you guys were fighting so bad you dropped the barn on them.”  Andy leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms.

“I mean, that was Lapis, not me,” said Steven, laughing, but the sound seemed forced.  “It’s, uh,  really complicated.  They didn’t know I had my mom’s gem yet, and then when they did they didn’t realize that I wasn’t her just shapeshifting, and we -- they -- um, the important thing is they came around.  Eventually.”  His hand dug into his shirt over his stomach, like it hurt him.  

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Andy admitted.  “But family’s complicated.  Sometimes it ain’t easy, dealing with them.  You know?”

“Yes,” Steven said in relief.  “Yeah, that, exactly.”  He let out a long, shaky breath, lowering his hand and resting it in his lap.

Andy gave the kid a worried look.  He didn’t like how he’d looked almost… scared, talking about his mom’s family like that.

“So,” he said brightly, changing the subject, “you still wanna check out some summer birds?  Thought maybe we could find some nests around the woods.  It’s a good time for it.”

“Sure!” said Steven.  He scrambled to his feet and leapt in the air over the edge of the deck, and before Andy could cry out, he floated gracefully to the ground.  Oh, yeah.  The floating thing.  Andy knocked a fist against his chest, trying to fight back against the burst of adrenaline that had flooded through him a second ago.  Phew.

He took the long way down, bringing Steven’s binoculars with him, holding the handrail down the stairs, careful not to slip.

***

“Uncle Andy!  What’s this little fella?” Steven asked in a whisper, staring hard at a bird a few feet away, perched boldly on a log in the open.

Andy glanced at the bird, neat gray body, jaunty black cap, rusty rump.  “Gray catbird,” he said softly.  “They’re close to mockingbirds.  Not nearly as good as mimicking as they are, but they do their best.  Mostly they just meow.  Mew, mew. ”  The catbird flicked its tail, cocking its head at them.

“That is adorable!” Steven squealed.  “Aww, hey there, little buddy.”  The bird hopped off of the log, strutting around in the loam, bold as you please.  “I like this one.”

“They’re pretty common.  You’ll see ‘em all over.  Even in cities and towns.  The only place you don’t really see ‘em is out west.”

They watched the catbird for a moment before it flew off into the trees.  “You said they can mimic things?”

“The mockingbird’s the best at it,” said Andy.  “How do you think it got the name?  The males’ll sing anything they think might get a female’s attention.  They can sound like hawks, jays, shoot, I’ve even heard them sing car alarm songs in Southland City.”

“It’s kind of like shapeshifting, but for birds,” said Steven.  “That’s pretty cool.”

“Steven,” said Andy seriously, “all birds are pretty cool.”

“Ha, of course, Uncle Andy.”

***

(Bird photos from the Cornell Lab's All About Birds site.)

[mermaidmafia-official]

{PART I: A COLLAR OF SPIKES}

Nessa has organised an underworld street race three towns over in Bay Haven, but an unbidden guest threatens to ruin her fun. @bebemoon​ @interluxetumbra​ @ayzrules @blubbingbeautifully​

[Smash Shit Up - The Dropkick Murphys]

…I wanna be a rebel / I wanna break some bones… The stranger had not expected a party. Her dervish dance bounced the tawny bar lights off her silver jewelry and into the rowdy sea of singers, like spellwork. Bacchanalia for middle-aged punk rockers and genre-savvy millenials. Leaning against a vintage Guinness poster with his arms crossed and a nonchalance wholly at odds with the energy of the room - an energy he had known in the ports of Nassau or the harvest festival in Naples - he watched her black hair fly, and frowned. …Maybe they'll be yours / They might be my own… Husky voices that may, in another decade, have bellowed sea shanties in shabby taverns now chanted celtic punk choruses in downtown bars with sticky floors. Their owners raised glasses to toast the enchantress on the bar counter as they might once have a siren of the sea... Was that why he got faint whiffs of withered oak and moonshine? His nostrils flared. No, there was a memory of salty breezes around her, but also that of blood on asphalt. For a moment, he indulged in imagining her enthroned on a stack of barrels filled with rum, wearing a pinstripe suit and an Al Capone hat… ‘New in town, eh?’, said a jovial voice next to him. A scrawny guy in black wearing a tweed flat cap - true vintage, 1940s perhaps - grinned up at him. Vintage-style sailor tattoos, the stranger noted, and smells of diesel oil on his hands. He said nothing. ‘Round here, we can always tell a fella’s new, ye know - by the way he looks at our Pixie.’ The guy nodded proudly at the girl-shaped creature on the bar counter. ‘Quite something, ain’t she? All kinds of trouble, that one, but never a dull moment.’ Quite something. Yes, the stranger thought. He had expected the damp chill of the grave, or the dry musk of something withered, not this - not warmth and sweat and cold smoke and beer. ‘You here for the race? Look like the type, ye know. Not for the faint-hearted, though, that’s for sure. If you’re going against her, you better have your things in order, my friend…’, his new friend chattered on. ‘Funny’, the stranger said, almost to himself. ‘She looks almost…’ ‘Wait- did you say something?’ ‘… alive.’

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

[Voodoo People - The Prodigy (Pendulum Remix)]

The smell of burning rubber, sharp and sweet, stung in her nostrils, and Nessa huffed. That dirty, shaggy flea-bag! When she had devised an underworld street race, she had not expected to be hounded - ha!- by an actual werewolf. And a fast one, no less. She hunkered down on her bike and took the corner sharper than was probably smart, gritting her teeth as the back tire slithered over the icy asphalt. His bike roared closely behind her. No dice. He was good. Three mortals had crashed in the fist third, defeated by back alleys or night time traffic. Four of the seven vampires who had turned up to race had bitten the dirt - get it? - at the scrap yards, and she, too had almost been catapulted off her ride by an unwieldy chevvy and narrowly escaped being impaled on a 90s’ satellite antenna. Not wood, but not pretty, either. But through the neon-lit city and the downtown alleyways, the wolf had prevailed, silently tracking her. Not once had he tried to overtake her. Not that she’d have let him. Not once had he lifted his mirrored helmet shield, but she had been a vampire long enough to sense a wolf. To hell with politics, she had thought back there at the starting line, high on anticipation and roaring motors, and had reared her head, declaring the race a neutral zone and beckoning her tattooed grand marshals to give the go. Apparently, the wolf had not got the memo. Ignoring a red light, Nessa zipped through between a pickup truck and a taxi, heading for the coast. It had been fun at first, the thrill of racing an enemy of the coven, knowing that Ysa would collapse in a dead faint if she knew, and imagining Yinmei levitating away muttering ancient curses. But here, with the cold, crisp air pushing sharply against her bike and the frozen Bay in view, Nessa started to wonder if she had just been really fucking stupid. Again. Somewhere behind her, shrieking brakes and a thunderous crash hailed the disqualification of yet another racer, but the wolf clung to her like a shadow. Always the same distance. Not pushing, but not relenting, either. Nessa bit her lip and tightened her grip on the brakes. No way she was gonna let politics ruin her race. Or her fun. Bracing for the serpentine road curving down to theBbay, she leaned into each curve, sinews straining as she fought to balance the weight of the bike with the momentum of the curves. Knees scraping gently over the ice. The thrill of being suspended right there, between pure motion and a brutal crash. Left - then right - and left again… But she was starting to get annoyed - at him, and at herself. What if he was here to kill her? And she was just serving herself to him on a silver - well, not quite, but still - platter? Sure, vampires were generally stronger than wolves, or so Ysa had told her. But then again, Nessa wasn’t a great listener, so she couldn’t be sure, and she was still young for a vampire. And a sheep separated form the herd, and all that… Fuck. Okay. Nessa made a decision, in the instantaneous, short-circuit brain-glitch sort of way she made decisions, and crushed the brakes in the last curve of the road. Screaming, her bike drifted over frozen snow and spun her around, drifting. For a split second she grinned manically, delighted to have surprised the pursuing wolf. And then, as he desperately tried to pull his bike around, his machine veered into hers with a booming crunch, catapulting them both off the road. They went flying. The hard ground hit her sharply - once, twice. And again. Pain blossomed through her limbs as they tumbled downward, machines crushing them with weight and piercing skin with shrapnel. She could hear bones break- were they hers? Then her head hit the ice with a wet crunch, and her vision went red as they slid over the smooth ice, seemingly forever. And then, there was silence.

When she came to, blinking and dizzy and tasting blood, they were alone on the ice under a vast black sky, the city noise damp and far away - or was that her head ringing? She pushed herself up and got to her feet, legs trembling softly with the remembrance of a life that may have been lost, if she had been human. The bikes had left a black smudge trailing behind them, like something crushed and crawling away. She grinned. She wanted blood. She felt very alive. ‘That’, said a deep voice behind the second bike, panting, ‘was entirely uncalled for.’ She could hear his broken bones reassemble painfully, and winced at the sounds, the slurping and cracking. But then, he must be used to that, she remembered. The wolf - man, at the moment - towered there, broad shoulders taut beneath a sadly torn leather jacket, and removed his helmet. Oh, fuck. She hadn’t counted on him being that handsome - square features, black hair, piercing, dark eyes... and bloodied. Ruddy wolves. She took her helmet off, and knew her own hair was all over the place. ‘I don’t like dogs yapping and biting at my ankles’ she said, with a shrug, playing it cool. Or trying to. Her adrenalin was through the roof. ‘I’m funny like that.’ ‘You’re an absolute raving lunatic, is what you are’, he countered, but not angrily. There was a soft melody in his speech, well-worn, but distinct. Mediterranean? And had she hit her head that badly or was there just the slightest hint of approval in his voice? ‘I do what I can.’ She grinned. ‘I hear that’s usually your job.’ He ignored the jab. ‘Did you really just do that… to annoy me?’ ‘You started it, you… bloodhound.’ She crossed her arms. Now, down to business. ‘So- are you here to kill me?’ He brushed dirt and snow off his sleeves. ‘I hadn’t quite made up my mind yet.’ Honesty. She could respect that. Nessa gestured at the vast expanse of ice around them. ‘Go ahead. Knock yourself out.’ For a moment, he said nothing, just tilted his head, as if thinking. Or seizing her up. Beneath them, the ice crinkled quietly. ‘What makes you think I won’t?’ he asked, eventually. She shrugged again. ‘Nothing. I mean, you’d think by now you’d have got out your funky werewolf kung fu stuff or-’ she waved her hands - she really should have listened to Ysa more - ‘or whatever you guys are using these days.’ ‘Fire, mostly.’ The corner of his - well-shaped, wow - mouth twitched with amusement or disdain, it was hard to tell. He seemed oddly calm for a mortal enemy. ‘Well, that ain’t gonna fly out here, obviously. Pity. I do enjoy an occasional brush with death. Makes you feel that more…. Well, you know - whatever it is we are.’ ‘Right. And that triple backflip you just pulled there like some crash and burn cirque du soleil shit- that was what?’ ‘That was me telling you not to mess with me. But, like, in a fun way. ‘Cause I’m nice.’ ‘…Nice.’ He picked the word up, perplexed, as if it had suddenly become strange. A sharp cracking sound interrupted them. Oops… ‘So -’ she said, ‘if we’re all done here I’ll be on my way. Race to win and all that.’ She could feel his gaze on her as she picked up her bike. Battered and missing a few parts, but it would carry her well enough. ‘Just like that. You don’t think I won’t follow you again? Or beat you?’ The last bit with the hint of a grin. She mounted her bike and tested the engine. Still good. Phew. ‘Not with that piece of junk you won’t.’ She nodded towards what was clearly a lost cause, at least for now. That soft crackle again. A rift, razor sharp and angry, appeared in the ice. Time to go. ‘Sorry!’ she said, merrily, ignoring his quiet curses in a foreign language. Italian. Of course. And then she was off. With the engines roaring beneath her and a vicious cracking sound just below, she sped across the frozen Bay, elated, heart fluttering with triumph. All that space in front and the dark emptiness above - receding, eternal. Nessa grinned. No time to ponder the meaning of time in a deathless existence- She was free.

[thebibliomancer]

Dark Crystal Age of Resistance Tactics liveblog pt 16

So with 6/7 clans united, its time to help the Stonewood. They've been kidnapped by spiders for like. Half the game.

But they're at the Castle. This looks like a job for- ... well, Aughra. Yeah.

We get a cutscene called Aughra's Sacrifice which covers the bit in the show where Aughra did a sacrifice to save the Stonewood.

... Wait, Brea how did you get here? I just had you with us in the Spriton lands!

Also, it didn't really establish what happened to the Hunter that he's dying. I know what happened in the show. But in the game, I kicked his ass in a boss fight and that hasn't seemed to do much the multiple times I fought Chamberlain.

But anyway, Aughra explodes.

Scientist: "What will we do now, Emperor?"

Emperor: "Now? Now... Now there is nobody who can stop us."

I'd like to contest that.

So that opens up two missions which presumably lead to their own plot threads. One is from the show. Where we help the escaping Stonewood at the Castle. Another, we help a pair of Stonewood that I guess didn't get spidered like the rest.

I'm going to do that one first because: it makes more sense to me to run into them on the way TO the castle. Narratively.

So that's how I'll do.

Mission: Far from Home - Wooded Clearing

Hey, I loved that movie!

"The heroes must rescue a pair of Stonewood Gelfling under attack by darkened creatures."

I hope we get another pair of odd couple bickering Gelfling!

Pinn: "Help! We're surrounded!"

Rian: "Hold on! We're coming to help you!"

Pinn and Orla are both level 37 Foragers. I have no idea what a Forager is.

Orla moves firstest of all. She has Soothe 2, Firemoss 2, Fleet Feet, Geyser, and Headwind.

I use Headwind to try and knock an armalig into a pit but alas.

Pinn goes after Breg, who is probably my fastest dude.

Pinn has Throw Rock 2, Focus, Maneuver, Mark 2, and Shove.

So this is your standard fight darkened critters level.

Not much to say. I am getting and receiving a lot of glancing blows this mission for some reason? Odd.

AHHH SPAWN INS!

Always with the spawn ins!

Phew. It was only one additional wave. Alas, poor Alyadon got nurlocked.

Pinn: "Thanks for your help. I've never seen creatures in the forest act like that!"

Rian: "What are you doing out here? You're a long way from Stone-in-the-Wood."

Orla: "The Skeksis sent Arathim to the village. Most of the Gelfling were captured. We barely escaped. We've been hiding in these woods ever since. Is it safe to return to Stone-in-the-Wood?"

Rian: "Yes, the Arathim have joined forces with us. We can help you find your way home."

LEVEL UPS!

Breg learned Limber Up! Rian learned Even the Odds! Kylan learned Dream Together! Alyadon learned Landslide!

Even the Odds: Grants target ally adjacent to two or more enemies Attack Up, Barrier, Magic Up, Shell, and Haste for three turns. Neat.

Dream Together: its the conference call of dreamfasting! All adjacent allies gain a percentage of caster's maximum MP

Landslide: inflict stun on adjacent units, can't target higher elevations. Because its a landslide.

Limber Up: Grant haste to an ally for three turns. By helping them stretch?

---

Mission: Holding Ground - Endless Forest Glade

"The heroes must defend the Stonewood refugees from waves of Darkened Creatures."

WAVESSSS! SPAWN-INSSSSS!

Aw dang.

Pinn and Orla are here. So far they haven't been too memorable. They should try bickering more.

Party: Pombo and Hup, Ivo and Wukki, and also Deet!

Pinn: "No more, I am exhausted. I can go no further. Please, go on without me. I will only slow you down."

Rian: "We're not leaving anyone behind. We will stand our ground and fight these creatures!"

I think part of the problem is that Pinn and Orla don't talk to each other. They talk to my party but its pretty generic.

I have to survive three waves.

HMM. Because of narrative reasons, Pinn starts with movement way down and with three turns of wound. She really is exhausted.

Also, hey the gobbles are back. Except HP has ballooned since the early game so its not quite as sure a way of dealing with enemies.

Bah, I kill one windsifter and another one spawns. Boo.

I'm doooooing baaaaad nobody is dead yet but there's so many. But the last wave has spawned.

Boo, I was close to winning but one of the guest party members died. I could have revived him, I had Deet and Deet has the power. But the level ended immediately. Boo.

Trying again with Ivo, Hup, Rek'yr, Brea, and Deet.

Woooo that went better. Reky're makes all the difference. No offense to Pombo but uh he's less effectual.

Rian: "The creatures have dispersed. Are you all right?"

Pinn: "I will be fine, thank you. You could have left me, but you didn't."

Rian: "We're all in this together. If we are to defeat the Skeksis, we need to help each other."

Pinn: "When the time comes we will stand with you. We owe you that much."

Rian: "You have my thanks. Come, Stone-in-the-Wood is not much further. Let's get you home."

Woo! I think that these two randos have earned me the alliance of Stone-in-the-Wood which I should already have as Rian is from the Stonewood clan and also I've beaten up the Skeksis multiple times! But protecting these two from animals is what really pushed me over the edge.

Interesting that there were only two missions in this chain. But I guess a lot of the early game is spent around the Stonewood area.

Hup and Rek'yr leveled up! Rek'yr leveled up twice!

Brea leveled twice and learned Healing Touch 2! Deet learned Soothe 2!

I also got the Forgemaster's Staff. I don't know why the Stonewood have the best magic stick but this is going right on Brea. GOODNESS GRACIOUS THATS FANCY.

And the clans have been united! Or at least an IOU re: the Stonewood uniting. Good enough!

The new objective at the top of the map is Defeat the Skeksis.

All in good time! I would like to free the rest of the Stonewood so that their representation in the united resistance isn't three dinguses. Four dinguses minimum please!

---

Mission: Prison Break - Castle Hallways

"Tavra helps the heroes free the captive Stonewood Gelfling and escape the Crystal Castle."

Looking at this map annnnnnd holy crap. That's a lot of NPC Gelflings. Hi Seladon! I see Threaded Tavra! Heck yeah! A bunch of locked cells. Some enemies in the cells... A couple levers. ...

Holy crap.

The Chamberlain and the General?? That's too many Skeksis!

I guess they didn't want to make the Collector just for this one mission even though it was SkekLach here in addition to Var and Sil.

Okay. So.

Party: Spider-Tavra, Brea and Rek'yr. On the other side of the arena, Gurjin and Naia.

Rian should probably be here but I can only field so many people.

And plotwise, I'm not even sure how Brea got out of the cage to join the rescue attempt but it feels like she should be here with Spider-Tavra and Seladon.

Spider-Tavra is a Soldier and not a Paladin for some reason. Seladon is a Strategist.

Brea: "Tavra, is it really you?"

Threaded Tavra: "It's US. Come, let us release the others. Mother Aughra made a deal with the Skeksis."

Brea: "Then we'd better hurry. The Skeksis aren't likely to hold up their end."

-Chamberlain shuffles into the stage-

Chamberlain: "Where do you think you're going? MmmmmMmmm?"

-General stomps on stage-

General: "Leaving so soon?"

Threaded Tavra: "Don't stop to fight. Just go, free the Gelfling!"

And the win condition is "Free the Gelfling 0/6"

What does that meeeeean? I don't see an exit square. Is it just to get the cells open??

Ok so Naia starts within range of a lever so I hit it and it opens a cell and two Gelfling run off. Buuut it also opens a cell that lets out a Nurloc. Hmm.

Scientist, why would you design it this way?

General cast Command on Seladon which allows an ally to take its next turn immediately. But. Seladon. Surely you can't still be the Skeksis' ally at this time, right??

Chamberlain also has a new ability, Empower. Stop making my enemies beefier, Sil!

I don't think General has any ranged offensive abilities. So if I keep hitting him with entangling bola and edging out of his reach, it will be really funny.

I hit a switch and free Seladon. Apparently she was cellmates with Maudra Fara. But Fara wasn't on the map and I only increase the freed Gelfling count by one.

Also Seladon took off without helping. Very rude.

I would have liked if I got more from her than that. Just in terms of her character arc or the narrative or whatever.

Ok, I had planned to keep running away from the Skeksis without fighting too much but then I kicked Chamberlain unconscious.

Just one of those things that you do when you realize how many crits you're getting.

General also has a new ability called Overpowered Prod which shoves and stuns. Rude.

I just turned to fight the General too and did over 500 with Naia on a crit.

I'm just. Gonna kick this guy's ass.

I surrounded him to kick his ass but his damn Intimidate ability that casts silence and other debuffs on everyone surrounding him. How am I going to kick his ass if its not in a dogpile?

Ok, he killed Naia but I have Awaken on Brea. I wish I could awaken Gurjin but Chamberlain stepped on him and as everyone knows if someone steps on you when you're passed out, you can't be revived this level.

Anyway, the only enemies left in the level are in cells so I just have free reign now.

I move casually through the level and hit the last lever and free the last three Stonewood Gelfling.

... I think I was supposed to hit this lever first because I only just now got a warning about accidentally releasing one of the Scientist's experiments. I did this the silly way around apparently.

Okay but the level isn't over. With all the cells open, the last cell contains another switch we have to hit to cut off pursuit by shutting the prison gates.

Now there's just a Darkened Hollerbat between me and the end of the level.

And I kicked its butt. It was no match for several angry Gelfling.

Then I casually moved across the map to hit the last switch. Cool, cool, cool.

I like that the game is trying something different. But perhaps if you wipe everyone out it kills the tension?

That's my bad though.

VICTORY!

Gurjin and Brea leveled. Naia leveled and learned Reckless Blow 2. Rek'yr leaveled and learned Rending Whirl 2! I earned nearly 6000 pearls! But no cool bits of Skeksis gear? Boo. I like getting stuff after beating them up.

And that's it for that mission chain. It was less of a chain then. A single mission. Like I said, you do a lot of missions in the Stonewood area earlier on.

[serpienten]

the one (i / iii)

Pairing: College!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Y/N is in love with Bucky Barnes. Bucky Barnes is not in love with Y/N.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Phew, this is the longest thing I ever posted and it took me so freaking long I can’t even tell you. This is part one of a three part mini-series, so let me know what your thoughts are on this one. Feedback is always very appreciated. Anyways, this one is for @irndad because she’s the awesomest of the awesomest and I’m really really happy everytime I get to talk to her. I hope you like this lilah, angel <3

PART II // PART III // PLAYLIST

She thinks he’s perfect.

In her eyes, Bucky Barnes is complete and utter perfection, with all his flaws and all his mistakes and all the baggage and everything about him he looks at with disgust in his eyes. To her, he’s it. He’s the one she wants to wake up next to in the morning, with sun filtering through the curtains and her head on his chest, or a soft, chilly breeze drifting in from the outside that makes being tucked into his side, strong, muscled arms tightly wrapped around her feel even more like home. He’s the one she wants to hug from behind when he makes coffee in the morning, face pressed into the skin between his shoulder blades. He’s the one with whom she wants to watch silly comedies or awful horror movies or the documentaries he likes so much. He’s the one she wants to see smile, the one she wants to hear laugh so hard it makes his eyes water and belly ache of happiness, the one she wants to hear giggle like a little school child and the one she wants to be happy.

God, she wants to make him happy.

She’d tear herself apart and bring him the world if that’s what it took. She’d do anything for him to just be happy because if anyone deserves peace and order and a mind at ease, it’s Bucky. Bucky, who’s the most wonderful and considerate and brave and caring person she’s ever had the pleasure of knowing. He’s smart, too, insanely clever and witty and occasionally a real jerk – but, alright, who wouldn’t brag about grades like that? – but he makes up for it by helping her study for things that don’t come as easily to her.

He even makes tea for her and Bucky hates tea. Hates the taste and the blandness of it without a, even for him, concerning amount of sugar. But when he sits down with her, in their cute, little and very efficient kitchen to study, he still pours himself a cup. It makes her smile every time and sometimes Bucky catches it and blushes, a sheepish smile twisting his lips before he clears his throat and begins to quiz her about things that make her head spin due to their complexity.

She adores and cherishes and appreciates every single piece of him, even the broken, darker, heavier ones. Y/N always notices when his self-control starts to dwindle when his mind starts to spiral out of control and she always tries to help. Even when he pushes her away. Over time she’s learned to give him his space when he’s in a state like that, but she still sometimes can’t help but knock on the door of his room that he locks behind him when he comes home to see if he’s okay.

She doesn’t always get an answer, but it always calms her heart when she does.

And if she doesn’t see him during those times, she certainly hears him.

The walls aren’t the thickest and his room is right next to hers and when he thrashes in his bed in the middle of the night and wakes up with strangled, pained noises leaving his mouth in between sharp exhales, she hears everything. She’s lost count how many times she’d blindly rushed to his door only to find it still locked and him out of reach from her. Her heart had cracked and splintered every single time her hands and forehead had pressed against the cool, smooth wood, unable to bear the thought that he was alone in there with his demons. Gladly, though, he always seems to find his way back to her and somehow, he always thinks he has to apologize for his emotions, lets her hug him and press little kisses to his temples and his forehead.

Y/N doesn’t mind his darkness.

Light wouldn’t shine so bright if there wasn’t darkness always lingering a few steps behind, catching up from time to time and then falling back behind again.

God, he’s it for her.

Keys jingling in the lock of the front door make her snap out of her thoughts and back into reality. The door swings open with a creak they’d meant to fix ages ago but never did and the bundle of keys lands on the designated shelf. She turns around with a frown, brows creasing. 

“Home so soon?”

She really is surprised to see him home. He’s away more often than not lately, skips movie nights and study sessions and dinners with her and sometimes when he cancels, telling her he’s running late at the library or whatever, he doesn’t come home at all. It’s not like she’s snooping or anything, not at all, but when she gets up at six in the morning and his shoes and bag are nowhere to be found and the smell of his usual coffee is notably missing, it’s sort of apparent.

And it’s not hard to guess who he’s with when he doesn’t come home either, he’s been with Natasha for close to five months now, but it’s certainly not as easy to accept. She has to, though. Because not accepting it means having to come clean about her feelings, risking everything, and she’d rather live with standing on the sidelines and being his friend than to not be with him at all.

Maybe that makes her selfish. Bucky deserves the truth, her honesty. But no matter how much he means to her and how her skin starts to tingle whenever he so much as brushes against her and how her chest bursts with longing for him, she’s not quite ready to break her own heart just yet.

When she turns, she finds Bucky setting down his bag and thumbing through the mail before he grins.

“Hey, roomie.”

“If you’d told me, I would’ve cooked,” she mumbles, propping up her chin on the cushioned backrest of their grey couch.

He scoffs. “Thank god I didn’t. Your cooking is terrible.”

Y/N lets out a sound of mock offence that earns her a teasing wink from Bucky.

“No, no, no, no, no.” He throws down the mess of envelopes, magazines and advertisements on their kitchen table, strides down into the living room and crouches down in front of her sitting form. “What we’re gonna do, is I make the popcorn, you pick the movies and we have one of our typical evenings,” a soft smile tugs the corners of his lips upwards as he speaks. “How ‘s that sound?”

There’s something off about that smile. Y/N doesn’t quite know what it is, but something is clearly different. She can’t place it so she pushes it to the back of her mind for now. Instead, she concentrates on the flutter in her chest at the realization that for the first time in so long, she’d get to spend time with him again. Like they used to before he’d started to inch away from her, bit by bit. 

She draws her bottom lip between her teeth, a smile blooming on her lips now as well. 

“Sounds good,” she eventually answers. When Bucky gives her his signature million-dollar grin, Y/N actually feels like crying because of how beautiful he is. He’s beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet and not at all hers to find beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet. For a split second, her smile falters and she’s thankful he doesn’t seem to notice. 

Not twenty minutes later, they’re on the couch, legs tangled comfortably and a thick, fuzzy blanket thrown over the both of them. Carefully propped up between their legs is a bowl filled with warm, salty popcorn in which they reach rotatory. 

It’s practically heaven to have him to herself again, heart singing at his close proximity. She wishes he were even closer so she could run her fingers through his hair, breathe in his scent, have it envelop her and feel the soothing, comfortable weight of his body against hers, but as per usual, that's a wish that wouldn't come into reality anytime soon. Or ever.

Y/N doesn’t really know Natasha, but what she knows, is that the red-head must be the luckiest woman on the planet. 

Spending time with Bucky feels good after all that time away from him. Amazing, even. Everything almost feels normal again, normal like before Natasha had coiled her perfectly manicured red fingernails around his heart and pulled it away from Y/N. Well, not that it'd ever belonged to her in the first place, but her best friend had become distant nonetheless.

He smiles at her occasionally, when their fingers touch in the popcorn bowl or when she moves her legs and her knee bumps against his and it’s becoming hard to ignore that it looks forced. And it sort of puts a damper on her happiness to see the person making her happy, faking their own.

It’s hard to concentrate on whatever they’re watching after that realization comes to her. It leaves her stomach in knots that make her appetite vanish, so for the rest of the movie she’s staring absentmindedly at the TV and fidgets with the fringe of the blanket.

When the credits start to roll, she’s imagined about every scenario that could’ve made him unhappy with her. Maybe she was too clingy and that’s why Bucky had avoided spending time with her lately and had felt obligated to tonight. Or perhaps Natasha had cancelled their meetup tonight and he’d had nothing better to do. Or Bucky’s finally realized she’s not that interesting and fun to hang out with after all.

“Okay, what’s up,” Bucky’s looking at her, confusion evident but the smile is still on his lips when her gaze moves up to lock with his.

“I could ask you the same,” she says, defensively crossing her arms in front of her chest, pulling the blanket up higher in the process.

He’s silent for a moment before he grabs the empty bowl and sits up.

“What do you mean?”

Y/N watches him stand up and walk to the kitchen. She gets up as well and follows him, leans against the counter and watches him place the bowl in the sink.

“Do you have to ask?” she replies.

The muscles under his plaid shirt move when he sighs and puts his hands on the edge of the sink to lean against it. The want to put her hands on his shoulders and to ease the tension that’s flowing off of his hunched form in waves flits through her mind for a moment and makes her arms wound tighter around her chest.

“You can tell me if something’s bothering you, Bucky. You know that,” she continues, “So if I did something that upset you, just kno-” 

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Y/N you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then talk to me,” she pleads, taking a step closer. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky turns around to face her and when he does, the forced smile is gone, replaced by, what she thinks is even worse, an expression of guilt and sadness. He looks at her like he’s about to say something he’s going to regret, like he’s about to say something that’s not only going to break her heart, but also his.

“Natalia and I have been talking about moving in with each other,” he finally confesses and if there was another noise in the room aside from the quiet noise emanating from the television, she’s sure she would’ve missed it.

And despite their faintness, the twelve words boom around her head like he just screamed them at her. 

“You’re moving out?” she asks breathlessly, frozen in place. She’s looking at him like a deer caught in headlights and she really does feel like she’s just been hit by an airplane car.

Y/N thinks she sees Bucky’s eyes glisten but she isn’t sure when he lowers his head.

“Yeah,” his reply comes out shorter and harsher than he intended and when he sees her eyes well up from the corner of his eye he fights the urge to reach out to her, comfort her. It’s not his place right now.

“O-okay,” she lightly tilts her head up and nods. She really feels like crying now, a sob bubbling its way up her chest that she’s now desperately trying to keep from tumbling out of her mouth. Because now he’s really not hers to find beautiful and soft and gentle and sweet. Soon, he wouldn’t be hers to find anything at all. They’ll go from roommates and best friends to best friends and then to friends and then to just acquaintances. She’s sure of it. And it breaks her heart to know that he’ll always be more to her than she’s ever been to him.

She takes a deep breath.

“It’s getting really late, I should... I should really...” she feels his gaze on her again when she looks away, feels it burning holes into the material of her sweater.

Y/N shakes her head. There’s enough pressure on her chest to bring her to the brink of a panic attack and all she’s left to do is flee. “I’m sorry.”

She quickly turns around and is gone before Bucky has a chance to speak.

[delicatelyherdreams]

Teardrops on Lashes (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After New York, you moved to Bucharest to get away from the superhero stuff. You simply wanted an uneventful, ordinary life. But when a stranger moves into the apartment next to yours, you begin to question those aspirations and choose to risk it all for love.

Warnings: Mild Language; baking fluff

Word Count:  4052

Teardrops on Lashes Masterlist      

Previous: Part 2

Next: Part 4

After the longest day of work you had ever experienced, you found yourself at the bike store to look for a replacement for the one that had gotten stolen. The price tags made your head spin. Since when did bikes get so damn expensive? When you bought your old bike it was a little less than a hundred dollars and now they were running a little over three hundred.

Looks like you’d be walking everywhere for a while.

You thanked the sales associate for helping you before leaving the shop.

The busy streets of Bucharest were packed with people on the sidewalks and maneuvering around the street vendors that were selling various goods. The chatter of the people having their own conversations filed into a buzz in the background that made the walk back to your apartment feel much quicker than it actually was.

As you rounded the last corner to get to your building, you stopped dead in your tracks when the last thing you ever expected to see was sitting right outside your apartment building.

Parked outside and chained to the bike rack was your bike. The (f/c) bike you had bought all those years ago was sitting there like it had never left. The only thing that was different was a white slip of paper taped to the handle bars.

You ran over to the bike and peeled off the note. In James’s handwriting, you read, “I found your bike :) I think that earns me a pie.”

You barked a laugh. How in the hell had he found your bike? It was stolen for crying out loud! You looked down at the chain to see a pretty good combination lock holding it to the rack. Well, time to go figure out what your new combination was.

You entered the building and began to scale the stares to the ninth floor. You propelled yourself onto the landing and made your way to James's door. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the wood.

There was a small scuffling before the door slowly opened. His eyes peeked out of the door suspiciously, and when they saw your face, they visibly softened. "(y/n)," he said in a simple greeting and opened the door wider.

You looked at him. "How did you get my bike back? Where was it? How did you even know it was mine?" you asked in a shotgun style, firing one question after another without giving him a second to answer.

James patiently waited for a pause in your rambling before he responded. “First, I saw it outside the building when I first brought my stuff up, and when it went missing and you were upset, I put two and two together and guessed it was yours. It’s good to see that my observations skills have yet to let me down.” He paused and leaned against the door frame. “Second: I saw some scumbag trying to sell it in the market and took it back.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You stared at him. “That’s it? You just took it back?”

“Yeah, what else was I going to do? I locked it up for you too, so that way it wouldn't get taken again. The code is 147.”

You blinked. “W-Wow, I, uh, I don’t know how to thank you,” you stammered.

He smirked. “I could use another one of those plum pies. The last one barely lasted twelve hours.”

You pursed your lips. “Really? C’mon, even my neighbor’s three kids have more self control than that,” you said with a laugh.

“Hey, plums are my favorite,” he said holding his hands up in defense. “And that pie was amazing.”

“Well, unfortunately for you,” you started, glancing down at your shoes, “I’m out of food money for the month and I have no more ingredients for it.”

“Well lucky for both of us, I have some extra money.” James gave you a smile.

The sight made your heart flutter. This had to be the first time you saw him truly smile.

“Oh really? Then I guess I have no reason not to make you a pie.” You paused, looking down at your work attire. “Give me a second to get changed and then we can go shopping. Then I’ll teach you to make it so you can have it whenever you want.” You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you walked the couple of steps to your apartment. “Be back in a bit.” You quickly unlocked the door and slipped in.

James stood in his doorway, slightly taken aback by your promise of teaching him to make your pie. He had been expecting you to just agree, take his money, and do it all by yourself. He had not been expecting youto instigate something that would lead you both into spending the whole afternoon together. He had known he was taking a risk making steps to get closer to you, but there was just something about you that intrigued him. He found himself waiting out in the hallway for you to come back out, anxiously clenching and unclenching his fists.

What was he doing? He moved here to get away from HYDRA, or SHIELD, or whatever government organization that would hunt him down to fill their own agendas. “Completely off the grid,” is what he had told himself when he decided to rent his dingy old apartment. “Leave no trace,” is what he had made himself promise. So why was he waiting to go grocery shopping with his neighbor whom he had known all of one day?

The logical side of him was saying to just go back inside and finish the emergency exit supplies. Pretend he got sick or something and never talk to you again. Disappear off her radar. After all, being around him would only get you hurt.

The human side of him, however, was trying to coax him out of his cold shell. “This is what we wanted. A fresh start,” it said. You didn’t know him or what he had done before Bucharest. You didn’t know Bucky or the Winter Soldier and so you didn’t expect anything from him. You only knew James, the quiet new neighbor with a love of plums.

A small smile crossed his lips. Maybe that’s all he needed.

Meanwhile, you were dashing around your apartment in a frenzy as you undressed, dressed, undressed again, and once more got dressed. No outfit seemed cool or casual enough to go out to buy things with James. You wanted to make a good impression on him, and seeing as how the first thing he saw you in was covered with flour and the second was your uniform, you weren’t doing so hot. You rummaged through your closet looking for a decent shirt with minimal holes. “Come on, (y/n), keep it together. You’re going shopping, not to the met.” Finally you settled on a plain orange v-neck, a pair of skinny jeans, and some fuzzy boots. You threw your hair up into a messy bun and quickly exited back out into the hallway. “Phew, sorry about that. I just had to get out of that skirt,” you said locking the door once more.

James’s eyes snapped towards yours. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he quickly replied. “I was okay with waiting.”

“Still,” you shoved your keys into your pocket. “I hope you didn’t have to wait too long.” You shot him a grin and jerked your head towards the stairs. “Now come on, this pie won’t make itself.”

He stepped back from the stairs. “After you.”

You smiled. “Such a gentleman,” you teased and took the stairs first.

As you reached the main floor, James turned his gaze to you. “Do we need my bike again?”

“Oh, no. The store isn’t too far away from here,” you said walking down the sidewalk. “It’s only three blocks... I think. I can never remember just how much distance it is. It’s about a six minute walk though.”

He paused as if doing the math in his head. “So yeah, about three to four blocks. Huh, it’ll be nice to have a grocery store so close to home," he remarked as you started to lead him in the direction of the store.

“Oh it is. Especially when you’re craving ice cream,” you admitted with a laugh.

He smiled. “Wouldn’t want it to melt.”

You nodded with a smile.

James glanced over at you before walking behind you to your other side so you were stationed on his right side. At your puzzled look he just shrugged. “Habit. I prefer people on my right.”

Okay, little strange, but you weren’t one to argue. After all, you had your own little quirks as well.

As the both of you walked down the street, you looked up at James. “So did you end up finding a job?” you asked curiously.

He nodded. “Yeah. The moving company on thirty first street needed some extra hands. So I’ll be working there moving people in and out of houses or apartments.”

“Oh, movers,” you said with a chuckle. “They saved my life when I first got here. There was no way I could’ve moved my bed all the way to the ninth floor.”

“We are helpful,” he admitted. “And they already gave me a bonus, which I’ll be using to get pie ingredients.”

“Oh well lucky you.” You shook your head with a laugh.

The two of you rounded a corner for the final stretch to the store.

“So, Cyrotechnics?” he asked. “What do you do there?”

“Cyber security and programming,” you answered. “I basically hack our site over and over again and build software to protect it from people who would do the same thing.”

“So you’re good with computers?”

You nodded your head. “In a way. I’m much better at hacking. If you ever need to hack into government secrets, I’m your gal.”

James bit his lip to hide a grin. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said.

After walking a few yards, you pulled up to the grocery store.

“Okay, we’re going to need flour, sugar, butter, and salt for the crust and cover, and for the filling we need lemon juice, nutmeg, sugar, flour, salt and cinnamon,” you rattled off. The recipe, thankfully was committed to memory after making it so many times.

He frowned as he grabbed a basket. “What about the plums?”

“Don’t worry, we get those last,” you reassured. “Now come on.”

Up and down the aisles you both walked, throwing in the ingredients you needed.

James pulled the cinnamon off the shelf and looked at its price. “Just how much are these things?”

“For a decent pie, roughly ten to fifteen dollars total. For an excellent pie, it might cost you an arm,” you said teasingly. “Don’t worry, I won’t make you buy the most expensive things for a pie. I’m not that evil.”

“Mhmm, well I appreciate it. I don’t have any more arms to spare.”

“I don’t think any of us do,” you said shoving the flour into the basket. “Alright, that should be everything.”

“Alright, now for the plums,” he said walking towards the produce section.

“Ah, James!” you called to stop him. “We don’t get those here.”

He frowned. “Is there another grocery store somewhere?”

You bobbed your head. “Something like that.” You led him over to the check out aisles.

He pulled out his wallet as you loaded up the conveyor belt.

The cashier told him something in Romanian. You only caught a few words like “pie” and “hot,” but it must have been something pleasant because James gave her a small smile. You noticed, however, that it wasn’t like the few he had given you before. This smile didn’t quite reach those gorgeous eyes of his like they did for you.

You quirked an eyebrow at him as you grabbed the bagged goods. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, she just told me that it’s too hot out to be making a warm pie. I don’t really care though, not when it involves your pie."

You smiled slightly. "Good, then you won't mind taking some of the bags?" you asked holding out the one with the heavier ingredients in it.

James cracked a grin. "I guess not." He took the bag and continued to follow you as you exited the store. "So where do we get these plums?"

"The market," you answered. "There's a plum cart run by an older lady named Lucinda and she grows the best plums for pies. Not too hard but not too soft and easy to get the pit out of."

The market was a small walk away, maybe only a minute or two, and, like always, it was bustling with people running their daily errands.

James stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the large crowd of people. His left hand clenched tightly and his lips formed a thin line.

You looked over your shoulder when his presence disappeared from your side. A concerned frown covered your lips. “James, you alright?”

He took a few moments to respond. “Y-Yeah, fine.”

He wasn’t fine. He didn’t look fine by a long shot, and you sure as hell noticed. You swiveled your head in between him and the crowd of people in front of you before it finally dawned on you that he could have crowd anxiety. Instead of encouraging him to follow you, you dug into your pocket and fished out your keys. “Here,” you said tossing them to him. “Head back and preheat the oven for me?” you asked sweetly.

He caught the keys in his right hand. “Y-You trust me to go back to your apartment alone? You don’t think I’ll rob you or anything?”

You shrugged. “There’s really nothing of material value in there. And besides, you’ve never given me any reason not to trust you and I kinda know where you live.” You shot a teasing grin his way. “Go on, I won’t be long, and it’ll get done that much faster if we divide and conquer, right?”

He paused to consider it before nodding his head. “I’ll see you back there then...”

“Just don’t burn the place down!” you called out to him as he began to retreat.

His shoulders shook slightly with a bout of silent laughter. “I won’t!” he called back.

You settled back onto your heels as you watched him walk away. The smile on your face slowly melted away as he disappeared from sight. You wondered what had happened to him to make him nervous around crowds, but it wasn’t your place to pry or ask. After you couldn’t see him anymore you turned and plunged into the crowd.

Familiar street vendors waved at you from their carts and shouted greetings.

In return you did the same as you walked to Lucinda’s plum cart.

The old lady was sitting in the shade of her awning knitting a pair of electric blue socks. She looked up with a bright grin when she saw you approach. “(y/n)! What a lovely surprise! Making another pie?”

“Always am, it seems,” you responded with an exasperated sigh. “Got any good ones?”

She gave you a knowing smile. “Check the left bin towards the top right,” she said in a low voice.

You did as she suggested and sure enough, when you felt the plums, they were perfectly ripe and just right for the pie you were going to make. You picked up one of the grocery sacks she provided and began to fill it with at least a dozen of the most perfect plums you could find. “Alright, I have thirteen plums. How much?” you asked for what seemed to be the millionth time.

Lucinda had to constantly change the prices from day to day depending on how many people were buying. She, like everyone else in the world, had to make ends meet and the plums were really her only source of real income since she refused to use her husband’s life insurance unless she desperately had to.

She pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “Well, we are having a good day, so your total’ll be seven *leu.”

Thank god you never left the apartment with anything less than twenty because you had forgotten to ask James for some money to buy the plums. You pulled a couple of bills from your pocket and handed them to her. “Thanks again, Lucinda!” you called as you tied up the bag.

“Anytime, (y/n). Any time.” She gave you a lazy smile before returning to her knitting.

You took your bag and began to speed walk the couple blocks back to your apartment. Once there, you climbed the stairs two at a time to the ninth floor. Your door was already open a crack and you heard the small clatter of feet and metal on metal behind the door.

You smiled softly and pushed the door open. “I got the plums!”

James jumped at the sound of your voice and turned to face you faster than you could blink brandishing one of your knives as a makeshift weapon. His eyes were hard and fierce in a way you had never seen them before. When he saw you, he lowered the knife. “Holy crap, (y/n), you scared the daylight out of me,” he said putting it down on the counter.

You closed the door behind you. “Sorry, the door was open so I just thought you were expecting me.”

He shook his head. “I was, just not so soon.” He rested his hands, which were still gloved, on the counter and hung his head. His long hair fell forward and covered his face. “I couldn’t figure out how to work your oven,” he admitted with a weak laugh.

Walking behind him, you quickly pressed a couple buttons to get it started and set the plums on the counter. “Don’t worry about it,” you said with a smile. You swiped your baking outfit from the oven’s handle and tied it on over your clothes. “Anyways, now that we have everything, we can get started.” You glanced down at his hands. “You might want to take off your gloves. We’re going to be working with a lot of flour and I’d hate for you to get them all dirty.”

He clenched his left hand into a fist. “Ah, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather keep them on,” he said coldly. “I don’t care about the flour.”

You hesitated before nodding your head. “Alright. You’ll be on filling duty then.” You handed him the grocery bag of plums. “Go ahead and slice enough of these to make four cups.” You pulled a chair from your dining room set over and mounted it. Balancing to counteract its wobbliness, you opened the top cabinet and pulled out your large and small mixing bowls. “Then sprinkle it with about a tablespoon of the lemon juice. It’s okay if you’re a little off. Then after those are done, you’re going to want to mix together a half cup of sugar, maybe a bit more if you like yours sweeter, a fourth cup of flour, and a fourth teaspoon of salt and cinnamon. Once you’ve got those all mixed...” you continued to rattle off instructions to him as you pulled out the things to make the crust. When you had finished you looked at him to make sure he was still with you. “Got it?”

He stared at you dumbstruck. “How the hell do you have this all committed to memory?”

You shrugged with a grin. “My best friend has three kids who love this thing. I’ve made it for nearly every birthday in lieu of a cake. After the twelfth time, you learn you don’t need the recipe card anymore.”

The laugh that came from his mouth made butterflies erupt in your stomach. You wanted to make him laugh again it was that amazing.

“I can see that. I think I’ll be good for now and if I start to screw up you can correct me.” He smirked as he pulled one of your sharper knives from the knife block.

You pulled some measuring cups from a drawer. “You bet your ass I will. You will not defile my glorious pie with your inability to follow directions,” you said waving the teaspoon at his face.

He picked up the cup and began to slice the plums into it. “I’ll do my best.”

The two of you worked side by side, methodically helping each other out when necessary.

James actually wasn’t half bad with the filling. He cut the plums with expert hands that seemed to know exactly how to work the knife. He must have been a chef or something wherever he was before here. He kept up with your instructions and finished the filling in half the time it would normally take you to do it. Impressed with his speed, you tasked him with making the topping while you finished the crust.

All the while you two talked about random things: favorite foods and colors, which was better, cats or dogs, and yourselves. You found out that he had left America for a reason similar to yours, but instead of getting away from super heroes he was trying to get away from his past. He didn’t go into any detail about said past but you understood that whatever it was had to be really bad if it drove him halfway across the world where he knew absolutely no one. From there the two of you talked about future plans. You wanted to someday move out of the apartment and settle down to build a family and he just wanted stability. He said he had been searching for a place to settle down for a year, and was hoping that this place was good enough to stay for a good amount of time. He didn’t sound too optimistic about it though. You tried to tell him it would be okay but he just brushed you off saying, “Whatever’s gonna happen will happen, I just have to deal with it.”

Finally you finished your crust and it came time to assemble the pie. You had him pour the filling while you finished off the topping. After the filling was set, you crumbled the topping over it and stuck it in the oven. “Now we wait an hour,” you concluded as you untied your apron.

James bent down and looked through the glass at the pie. “That’s actually not as complicated as I thought it’d be.”

“Right?” You looped the apron back through the handle. “I’ll make you a copy of the recipe card so you can have it whenever.”

His smile faltered a bit. “I’ll never make it right.”

“Nonsense. You did half of this one and I’m sure it’ll be fine.” You bent down next to him and peered in. “See? It looks just like how it normally does.”

“Looking the same and tasting the same are two very different things,” he pointed out.

You shrugged. “You’ll figure it out. I can’t keep making pies for you otherwise I’ll have to start charging for my services.”

“And if I’m willing to pay?” he asked raising an eyebrow as he turned his head slightly towards you.

“I’ll consider it,” you answered quietly. “C’mon.” You stood up fully and walked over to your couch. “I’ve got Netflix so we can watch whatever you want for an hour while we wait.” You plopped down on the right side.

James smiled and joined you sitting on your left. “Alright.”

He chose an older comedy but in truth neither of you really watched it. Instead, like before, you carried out a conversation, talking about whatever came to mind. The hour passed quicker than either of you realized and the timer on the oven going off made the both of you jump in your seats. After the pie had cooled, you both agreed on sharing a slice to test its taste. Much to your delight, you found that it had to be one of the best pies you had ever made.

*leu: Romanian Currency; 1 leu is equivalent to about 0.25 USD 

Teardrops on Lashes Taglist: @fuckthatfeeling

[achildoftheivy-blog]

Chapter 11: Flower Moon

The morning after your first Vampire Weekend concert is an amazing feeling.  If you’re not familiar with Vampire Weekend, they are a rock band from New York, forming in 2006. They are heavily influenced by African and World music with some nice Paul Simon and Peter Gabriel vibes. I’ve been avidly listening to them since 2006 and last night was the first time I was able to see them live. It was also their first time performing in Charlotte. Suffice to say, they don’t come to my neck of the woods that much.

So for them being one of my bucket list bands, I was entirely prepared to not even go see them. When the fan club presale tickets went on sale a handful of months ago, I had them in my cart, but for whatever reason I said no and didn’t buy them. I must have been in a mood and the steep price didn’t sway me. BUT this is a bucket list band! A list that incorporates bands I’ve mostly been listening since their formation and have made an incredible impact on my life. How could I just pass this opportunity up?

That’s what I asked myself on Friday morning, the day before the concert. They had just released some more tickets in the PIT section, my favorite section right up on the stage. I also saw where they were playing in Raleigh Friday night, so I could have gone there also. I had an opportunity in front of me to experience a potentially good time and I’ve been trying to put more of an effort to chase those experiences.

I bit the bullet and bought the Charlotte PIT ticket along with a Fast Pass ticket. FYI, if you can purchase a Fast Pass ticket and you are in a situation where the concert is first come, first serve on standing position, it’s no doubt worth every extra penny to get one.

So yay, I got the ticket and I was looking forward to a nice time. I felt I should have been more hyped, but maybe it was because I saw the weather forecast and it was calling for severe storms. 

I’m about sick of these storms lately. They postponed my Lord Huron concert, we got a rain shortened Day 2 Gears and Guitar Music Festival, and it put a damper on my Asheville hiking excursion. The rain just needs to chill. 

It’s already difficult enough to go to a concert by yourself. You kind of have to mentally pumped yourself up knowing that it’s just going to be you. You don’t have the luxury of someone saving your spot, going on a beer run, or just having that amazing shared experience with someone. It’s even more difficult when you are dealing with that and you are driving through dark clouds and heavy rains towards the concert. I was fighting myself to not bail on the show and just hang out in concord mills instead. But I continued forward and I was determined to go through with it and make the most of it.

I’m going to be honest with you all right now, I’m not a person who believes in destiny, karma, or stuff happens for a reason. I think life is inexplicably chaotic, unfair, and it is what it is. I believe if you rely on life or the universe to give you or someone else their karma or comeuppance you’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment. Having said that though, there is something to be said for last night, that is just a unique series of events that just made me think. 

So the rain is now at a constant hard drizzle and I go to my parking lot that I’m familiar with at this venue in Charlotte. Although now, it’s not free parking it’s paid and I have to go up to the attendant. The guy is says it’s $10 and I’m thinking no problem. I was pretty sure I had around $15 on me. I open my wallet and there is a 5 and four 1′s. 

Damn.

Must’ve been a girl to take my other $6 - they tend to do that.

I’m doing my best at holding up the line as I’m scrounging for change. I find .75 real quick and then I pull apart some interior and I find a another quarter. I’m in. PHEW.

I park and I grab what I now discover is the world LARGEST XL poncho. I’m in one of the trendiest parts of Charlotte and I’m looking like a damn fool in my over sized clown poncho.

Whatever, I make my way towards the amphitheater to get in line. Now, when I have PIT tickets, I try to get to the venue an hour before the doors open so I get be one of the first ones in to get a spot up front. I was about 75 minutes early and thinking it’s all good. I get to the entrance and the fast pass line is completely lined up. I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’m thinking to myself, “WTF is a Fast Pass good for if everyone has gotten a Fast Pass?!?” It ruins the whole purpose of it!!!!

I’m moping hella far back in line, in the rain, inside a family tent converted poncho, and alone. I don’t want to be here. I want to leave. 

Then things start to turn. 

When the attendants where going through the line make sure everyone was in fact a fast pass holder, there was a commotion!!! Apparently a whole group of people were at the wrong venue. There is like 3 different music venues within the same block. A crow of people in front of me left. I was back up in line in a more manageable position!

I eventually get into the venue and I go looking for the PIT area. Of course, I make a wrong turn and by the time I find out where I need to go, I’m about 10 people farther back in line than what I was when entering the PIT. I see that all the up front spots are taken, but I continue to the other side and there is a section open, but it’s a couple of security guards leaning up against the rail and no one else there. I go there and ask if this is open and they are like yeah, have it. So I ended up getting a pretty damn good spot up front and I’m able to lean against the rail. Apparently people though it was a security section, which is why people weren’t standing there. 

I got my spot, but now here lies the problem with going to a show solo. If I were to leave it and get a drink or go to the bathroom, someone else could take it. So I was hoping whoever ended up next to me could be cool enough to help me out. So that person arrives......it was the most Type A couple there could be. Loud, in your face, and just immediately not the people I would generally get along with. They were asking people to slide down and trying to get into spots that were being saved. But, I tried to feel them out a bit as I was planning my move. Eventually I just had to get a drink and I started a conversation with them and they saved my spot as I went to get a $13.50 beer!!!

They turned out to be really cool concert neighbors and it’s way more common to get bad ones in my experience. Also around this time the rain stopped, so I ditched the industrial tarp and it was all sun’s out guns out!

Now the show has begun and the one main aspect that I love about seeing my favorite bands live is that I get to hear songs that I’ve heard millions of times under a different light. I may hear an instrument I never was able to pick up on a studio recording, they may play an extended version of a song, or a lyric will hit you in different way and change your life. The entire night was like that and it was for one song in particular. I’ll get to that a little later. 

Vampire Weekend ended up playing around a 2 and a half hour set with all my favorite songs. That is a hefty set time, more than you would usually get at a concert. And looking at the Raleigh set list the night before, this was definitely catered just for me. I don’t know if I could have asked for a more perfectly suited set list for me. The crowd was full of energy and the band totally fed off of it. There is always a chance that a band you like could totally suck live. I’ve experienced that before and it’s a bummer. But this concert was everything I had hoped for it to be! Truly a memorable experience.

The concert has now ended and I’m starving. I hadn’t eaten for 11.5 hours and I have a couple beers in me. I needed some sustenance if I were to make it back home. All the little food places around the venue were packed with the post concert crowd. So I decided to escape the parking lot and grab something quick and unhealthy on the road. Whatever is still open at midnight. I was looking for a Taco Bell to get my protein burrito, but apparently those are few and far between on this stretch of highway. So I was going to settle on a McDonalds too. I get to an exit that had both a Taco Bell and a McDonalds. I start to get on the exit and it hits me. This is a bullshit exit that I remember that I went off on a while back. I know that taco bell was trash and 3 miles off the exit. I was going to do that again. I then saw the Mickey D’s right off the exit so I just decided to give in and go there. I was getting woozy. 

I get in live at the drive thru and I could look inside to see that it’s only ONE PERSON handles the orders and making the food!!!!!!

I legit was going to just leave, but I that point I was trapped inside the drive thru curb and the line. It was so slow and I was stuck with my dumb McDonalds decision. Then I noticed two huge pick up trucks hauling these immense trailers. They pull to the side of the parking lot and a few people get out. After a bit a dude comes walking towards my car and knocks on the passenger side window. I sighed because I don’t want to deal with people, but because of the person I am, I tiredly rolled down my window with the help of a healthy UUGGGHHHH.

He tells me that they won’t be able to get their vehicles through the drive thru to order and that If I was to order for them he would pay for my meal too. I’m a super nice person, so I obviously said yes. I was also not thinking and I probably would have said yes to most things. 

So here I am in my car finally ordering and the are on the other side of my car telling me want they want as I relay the order to the cashier. It took around 40 minutes from when I get stuck in line to when I finally got the order. I gave the food to the people and they told me to keep the change on top of paying for my meal. So I made out with a little over $10! Pretty sweet. 

Now I’ve been thinking about everything that has transpired during this evening. The push to fight myself through the storm to get to a very important experience. Being on the spot to come up with money last second. Going out in public looking like a fool. Disappointment in showing up early and still being disappointed, Dealing with making wrong turns and setting yourself back and having to interact with people you normally wouldn’t get a long with. Being in a position to open yourself up to helping people when your not fully 100% yourself. And having to make the best of what you got with instances you can’t control, like the weather. 

Last night, everything happened for a reason. Despite the bumps and annoyances in the road, I had an amazing night. And all those issues are just little irritations. I don’t think I could have handled last night as well without going through those same situations on a much larger scale the past year. Everything I have been through has allowed me to handle the same circumstances that I went through last night. And last night taught me that maybe, just maybe there might be a tiny bit of room to accept that things MIGHT happen for a reason, sometimes. Because everything that happened last night put me in a a position to have an incredible and rewarding time. 

Within the time frame of one night, it’s easier to see that concept.  It’s a lot more difficult to see that things happen for a reason when you are waiting months or years. I guess that is just something I have to be better at looking forward to.  

Now to get back to what I mentioned before about a song hitting me a different way. The song is called Flower Moon and you can listen to it below. They opened the show with this song and the lyrics just set the whole tone for just the night, the past couple weeks, and just me in this current moment in time.

“Flower moon cursed the night 

If the sun don't make things right 

Then it's gonna take a year”

“It was the right place, wrong time 

Another night at the borderline

Another night in the sway of the flower moon 

It was the right week on a cursed day 

Another chapter was underway”

“A shift in weight 

A simple twist of fate 

Suddenly, it's much too late 

The rising tide's already lapping at the gate”

[smilingformoney]

It Lives Beneath Diamond Scene: Sneak Away with Danni

Danni: The five words I’ve been waiting to hear all night. You put a hand on Danni’s back and steer her away from the display, leaving the oblivious men behind. You: Let me buy you a drink? Danni: It’s an open bar. You: Okay, Miss Technicality. Trying to make a gesture here. Danni: Sorry. Yes, I’d love a drink. You make your way to the bar and order two flutes of champagne. You: Okay. Let it out. Air all your grievances. It’ll make you feel better. Danni: Ugh, where do I even start? This whole place pisses me off. You: The whole thing or a few things in particular. Danni: Everything. The clothes, the jewelry, the tablecloths that probably cost more than I make in a month… On cue, the bartender reappears and sets down your drinks. Light winks off tiny flakes of gold swirling in the champagne. Danni: See? Even the booze is bougie. Danni: Is this what’s in store for me? Displaying my art to people like this? You: But they’re showing off your work, right? That’s cool. Danni: It would be, if everyone here wasn’t so spectacularly missing the point. Danni: Take that photo over there, for example. What would you say it’s about? You study one of Danni’s photos on a wall nearby. 

EXAMINE -Photograph of Boats 

You: I think it’s about… -Class division.

You: The way the yacht is just plowing right through, while the smaller boat can barely stay afloat… Danni: Exactly! Thank you! At least someone gets it. Danni: I thought the metaphor was fairly obvious, but you’d never know it from the reactions I’ve been getting tonight. You: Maybe they just don’t want to see it. I mean, this isn’t exactly the most receptive audience for a message about the plight of the working class. 

-Social anxiety.

The way the smaller boat is quietly floundering, but the yacht doesn’t seem to notice… Danni: Hm! That’s not exactly what I was going for, but it’s an interesting lens. Danni: Certainly more interesting than half the other dumb things I’ve heard tonight. You: Oh yeah? Like what? Danni: One guy thought it was about motherhood. Like the big boat was a mom and the little boat was its baby. You: I… Wow. Just wow. 

-Boats?

You: What even are they? How do they float like that? What do they want from us? Danni: You can’t be serious. That’s… You… Danni: …You’re messing with me. You: Maybe a little. So what’s the picture really about? Danni: Well, it’s supposed to be about entitlement. How privilege can blind you to the struggles of others. I guess it could be clearer… You: No, I totally see that. Especially with how you captured the smaller boat in the shadow of the yacht. Danni: Right, exactly. Now if only these people got it…

Danni lifts her glass, squinting sceptically at the swirl of gold flakes inside. Danni: I don’t know… I can’t decide if displaying this kind of work, at a part like this, makes me a rebel or a sell-out. 

You: I think… -You are a rebel.

You: Think about it. They’re paying you to mock them, and they don’t even see it. You: Imagine if one of these goobers buys a photo and hangs it in his boardroom, because he thinks it’s just a nice picture of some boats. Danni: …Okay, I have to admit, the prospect of my work quietly undermining some CEO’s authority all day is pretty fantastic. You: That’s the spirit. 

-It doesn’t matter.

Danni: What do you mean? You: I mean who gives a crap what these people do or don’t think? They’re not your audience, right? They’re the yacht. Danni: Yyyesss… I guess that’s true… You: What matters today is that you made art you enjoyed and got paid for it. And now you can go make even more! Danni: Well, when you put it like that, it’s hard to argue. 

-You should go even further.

You: The next time they invite you to one of these things, you should go full-on Banksy. Really punch them in the face with it. Danni: Ha! I wonder how much I could get away with? Maybe a fifty-foot photo of a sinking cruise ship? You: Bigger. Danni: A sinking cruise ship that’s on fire. Danni: With ‘eat the rich’ written in caviar on the side. And I’m standing in the foreground with two thumbs up, dressed like The Fonz. You: Is this going to be available as a poster? Because I need this image on my wall. Danni cracks up laughing. 

You take a sip of your drink. Danni: So how are the gold flakes? Do they taste like success? You: Not really. They’re pretty flavourless. Danni frowns and takes a sip of her drink. Danni: Wow, you’re right. So they’re just cosmetic? Edible glitter? You: Very expensive edible glitter. Danni: Ridiculous. She shakes her head, laughing. Danni: Say, speaking of edible, are you hungry? I’m starving. You: I think I saw one of those guys with a tray of food by the door. You and Danni grab your drinks, snag some hors d’oeuvres, and stroll outside. 

You near the neat fire pit and warm yourselves by its gently licking flames. You: So how did you get into photography, anyway? Danni: Growing up here, I think. Danni: I know my work’s all about inequality now, but when I was a kid it was more about trying to… I dunno, capture the magic of this place. Danni: I used to spend all day running around the woods and waterfalls. Then I’d come home and tell my mom about everything I’d discovered. You: Aw, Danni the Explorer! That’s adorable. Danni: It got on my mom’s nerves, actually. She likes to joke that she bought me a camera so I’d close my mouth and open my eyes. You: She sounds nice. Danni: My parents are actually really supportive. A little too much sometimes. Danni: Their latest thing is trying to convince me to go to art school. But I’d rather look for a job, so I can help them out. Maybe in advertising. 

You: Wait… -Your parents need help?

Danni: They would say no. But yeah, they do. Danni: They’re struggling with money right now. Medical bills. 

-Advertising? Seriously?

You: That’s surprising for you. Danni: Well, it’s not like I’m dying to sell fast food and sports cars. But advertising pays well, and full-time photography jobs are scarce. Danni: Especially if you need good benefits… You: ‘Need’? 

You make your way to the pool and look out over the rippling cerulean water. Danni: My dad hurt his back about a year ago and had to get surgery. Danni: My mom’s insurance is totally maxed out. And between that and Dad not working… Danni sighs. Danni: They might lose their house soon. I’ve been trying to help out with a part-time job. But I’m barely making ends meet as-is. 

You: Danni… -I’m sorry.

Danni: Thank you. You: How’d your dad hurt his back? Danni: He worked in a warehouse for twenty years. To provide for me. 

-It’s not all on you.

You: I know. But I want to help them. They’ve worked hard their whole lives. They deserve to be happy. You: Yeah, but you can’t take the whole world onto your shoulders. Danni: My dad says the same thing. You: What about your mom? Danni: My mom says if I offer to pay for groceries one more time, she’s gonna whack me with a shoe. 

You: It sounds like you all really care about each other. I hope everything works out okay. Danni: Me too. Danni: Thanks, Gina. You’re really easy to talk to. You: That’s not all I’m good for. Danni: Is that so? 

You: Yeah. I’m also good at… -Kissing. Danni +10

Danni: In that case, I have a question to ask you. Danni’s eyes shimmer in the warm evening light as she sets down her glass. You: So ask me. Danni: Okay. Danni takes a step toward you, her face just inches from yours. Danni: Can I kiss you? You: I don’t know. Can you? Danni laughs as you grab her by the waist, pulling her closer. Her mouth presses against yours, the taste of champagne sweet on her lips. You kiss for a long moment, then gently come apart. You: So. Are you enjoying the party yet? Danni: It’s growing on me. Danni plants one last kiss on your lips, then steps away. Danni: We should probably get back, though. The others might be waiting for us. 

-Making toasts. Danni +10

You lift your glass. You: We may still have problems, but here’s to one good night. You: And champagne somebody else paid for. Danni: I’ll drink to that. Danni picks up her glass and clinks it against yours, then you both knock back what’s left of your drinks. Danni: Phew! That’s a little stronger than I thought. You: Maybe we should go easy. Probably not the best ide to get our buzz on in the middle of a cultist convention. Danni: We should be getting back anyway. The others might be looking for us. 

You and Danni head inside and rejoin the party.

[yoshi4sushi]

(purupurupuru) (purupurupuru) (gocha!) (coo!) (coo!)

 Hey! Hey! Hey, nakama! Happy Monday! The heat is getting hot! hot! hot! Protect yourselves from this unbearable heat! Drink lots of water! Wear sunscreen! Wear light clothing! It’s seriously damn hot! Well, enough said. We got loads of stuff to share with you so you know the drill. First off, last week’s chapter commencement of Wano arc start off wild as Luffy sees a dog and a baboon ready to duke it out when suddenly, some of Kaidou’s men kidnapped a little girl that was accused of treason. They see Luffy as their next target, but he gave them the blow. One of the henchmen ordered the baboon to kill Luffy, but he gave them the “look” and scared the baboon. The henchmen was blown away by the baboon’s cowardice and suddenly knocked out by the little girl. The girl identifies herself as O-Tama. She was giving up to Luffy, but he assured her he wasn’t gonna harm her. She tries to befriend the baboon by giving her some dango by pulling her cheek and it turned into one. WHOA! Talk about handy snack! The baboon was going wild on her and was able to tame it. She was happy that the baboon is now her new friend. O-Tama explains to Luffy that Kaido’s men showed up and bullied her. The baboon was on their side so the dog name Koma-chiyo was trying to protect her. She was upset by their behavior and claimed that the Kozuki clan will come back. For saying that, it lead to her getting into trouble. To repay him, O-Tama takes Luffy to her hideout along with the baboon now name Baboonmaru and Koma-chiyo. She tells Luffy that she only admires the good pirates, and not the bad ones. So they arrived at the hideout, and O-Tama was making a meal for him. She offered a bowl of rice and ate it so fast yet he was still hungry. He offered some portion, but she declined to eat it saying that she wants to stay fit if she wants to become a ninja. As she left, a tengu showed angry and attacked Luffy for eating the bowl of rice that was meant for O-Tama as her birthday present. He told her that she hasn’t ate in couple days and spends all day weaving hats so she can earn little bit of money for her meals. O-Tama shows up to claim the tengu to not be angry at Luffy that she gave him the rice as gesture for saving her life. She started feeling pain and puked. She passed out from the pain. The tengu tells Luffy that she is sick because of the contaminated water that is affected by Kaidou’s factories so all the nasty stuff made the water poison. He also tells him that she won’t leave the mountain cuz she’s waiting for Ace to come back. Hearing this made Luffy so worried for her and curious of how O-Tama is familiar with him. At the end, Basil Hawkins showed up and finds Sunny washed up on shore. He is now serving Kaidou as a headliner. He tells his henchmen not to report about Sunny, and that he would handle the situation. How will Hawkins handle the situation? How did O-Tama meet Ace? What kind of stuff they’re making at the factories? Damn all these questions! Guess we’ll see what happens this week so don’t miss it! Next, this past weekend’s episode was in literally heat. Kingbaum barely escaped from getting killed by Big Mom’s furious attack. Nami asked about the female tree he was talking to. He tells her that it was her fiancé so Nami used that motivation to keep running as fast as he could so that he could have a life with her. Hearing that motivated Kingbaum and head towards Seducing Woods. Luffy can’t keep still from not attacking so Nami devised a plan to make thunderclouds to lure Zeus away from her so she slows down. Zeus came up to Nami and asked for more yummy thunderclouds. Nami agreed to his offer only if he becomes her servant. Suddenly, Prometheus showed up in blazing heat and killed poor Kingbaum. The king of Seducing Woods has perished from the might of the angry sun. At the end, Pudding begs Chiffon to help her make the exact same cake to stop Big Mom’s sugar mode attack. She says she’s doing this to help Sanji and the others escape. Is her intention honest? Or is he deceiving? Next time, the gang goes through Seducing Woods and prevents the gang from heading to shore, but Nami devices a plan to escape the forest. Will it work? Don’t miss week’s episode. Now on with the goods! We received a telegram from our tower mascot, Tongari-san. He couldn’t be here since he and the rest of the crew are preparing for the BIG DAY! Yes, this weekend is the OP anniversary and the tower will have loads of talk shows going on. Only winners who have been sent an email from the tower are allowed to see it, but they will have a live LINE broadcast for those who can’t make it. Also, loads of summer goods. We mentioned last time they’re selling acrylic figurines, bags of candy goods, buttons, folders, towels, a cool blue t-shirt, a Japanese curtain perfect for a door way, and a set of postcards. The event will go on until Sept.14th. The tower will also present a new visual for the PHANTOM live show as well. On Sunday, editor of OP Naito and two of his crew will join at the talk show to talk about more about what’s gonna happen in the Wano arc and maybe upcoming new arc later after the Wano arc. I said maybe, but they can’t spill everything. Anyway, I hope everyone will join the fun at the tower. Next, new! new! new summer goods! All stores will be selling special summer goods such as pillows, acrylic key chains, Japanese cloth mat, and of course, buttons! Shibuya store will sell goods of Luffy & Law, Osaka store will sell goods of Ace & Whitebeard, Nagoya store will sell goods of Zoro & Sanji, and Fukuoka store will sell goods of Luffy & Chopper. Next, 7/11 stores will be giving away this free bag of corn chips shaped of meat to for those who purchase lottery tickets of the new Ichiban Kuji. Next, Jump Exhibition will have a big corner of a Straw Hat around the wall and you’ll see loads of cool stuff fave moments of your favorite characters. It will be held at Roppongi Hill. They’ll also have a JUMP café where they’ll serve special dishes of your favorite anime. For OP, they’ll have Luffy’s tasty meat plate with omelet rice straw hat. Next, all stores will sell a new YAKARA card deck with many characters. Next, Premico will be selling this new All Blue watch of Sanji. Watch will have Sanji behind engraved. On the inside, it will have a knife and fork along with the symbol of Baratie. Along with the watch, you’ll receive it with a wooden box with Baratie’s jolly roger. You can order as a metal or leather band. It will be released this week. You can make 6 installment payments on it. Next, Coca Cola will be having another collaboration of OP. If you buy 4 bottles of tea, water, or soda, you can get a free prize such as a summer bag, 2 designs of zipper bags, and towels. You can only choose one. Next, OP app game, Thousand Storm, will be having a short campaign and if you earn enough points, you can now use Buggy or Alvida as playable characters. Next, here is the cover for the OP Vivre Card book that will contains loads of fan facts. It will be released on Sept. 4th. Last, but not least, the God of Skypiea, Morikawa-san (aka Eneru), went to the studio to finally reprise his long-time role as Eneru for the special episode of Skpiea. They gathered the old veterans from the arc along with Akemi-chan (Nami), Ikue-san (Chopper), Yuriko-san (Robin), and Kappei-san (Ussop). GUA! Reliving the fierce battle of rubber and lighting. Morikawa-san totally had fun with our captain. I mean duh, the fight b/w them was fool of shocks and loads of fist fight. He totally lives up to his name as the lord of Skypiea: fierce and strong. The special episode will start on Aug.25th. Phew! I think we covered everything. That’s all we got for now. Tune in next week for more awesome news and events. The gang and I will check out the events to see what’s going on. Kikko! Momon! Let’s call it a night.

 Watch: https://iei.jp/50467301401/?utm_source=one-piece.com&utm_medium=official-link&utm_campaign=20180716

Tickets: https://shonenjump-ten.com/vol3/

[shadowlugia141]

Monster Hunter: Open Ocean chapter 2 ( One Piece x Monster Hunter Stories)

"I wanted the Dragon Lady to join us", Luffy pouted.  

SMACK!  

"Owww!  What was that for?!", Luffy whined, holding his head where Nami and Sanji had smacked/kicked him.  

"First she threatened to kill us!", Nami shouted angrily, "Second, we don't have room for a dragon!"

Nami regained her composure after a moment, if only slightly.

"Besides, we're just here to get supplies, then it's off the Little Garden", Nami explained, "Getting Vivi to Alabasta is our top priority.  Anyways, she said there was a village here, guess we just follow the path."

The Straw Hats trekked up the path leading away from the cove.  The forest around them seemed to bustle with small animals, and giant trees towered above the rest of the forest.  As Vivi knelt down to pick a small, pink flower, a nearby bush began to rustle.  She went to take a closer look, when suddenly something jumped out.  

It was a bipedal feline creature, with tan fur marked with dark brown, including a paw print on its belly.  In its paws it held a large egg almost as big as its body.  

Suddenly two more creatures jumped out of the bushes, and they did NOT look friendly.  They stood almost as tall as Luffy, and were light blue with horizontal, dark blue stripes running along their backs.  Their slender faces were yellow, and an orange crest topped their heads.  Their most terrifying features were their slender jaws lined with needle sharp teeth, and their talons, seven on each hand and four on each foot.  

"NYAAA!", The cat shrieked, "GO AWAY BIRD BRAINS!"

The raptor like creatures lunged at the cat, who swiftly jumped and dodged, using the head of one raptor as a springboard.  The other raptor snapped its jaws and the cat pivoted mid jump, just barely avoiding having its tail bitten clean off.  Still holding the egg, the cat landed and began running, disappearing into the bushes with the two raptors chasing it.  

"Well that was weird", Sanji commented, "anyways, we should get go-"

"NYAAA!  COMING THROUGH!"

The crew looked to see the cat emerge from another set of bushes, with the two raptors still chasing it.  This time another raptor had joined in the chase as well.  The three raptors all lunged at the cat, who quickly jumped to avoid their jaws.  The three raptors crashed into the underbrush, and several loud squawks were heard.  

"Phew, that was close", the cat said, wiping his brow, "Thought they were actually gonna catch me."

He then puffed his chest out in pride.

"I mean, not like they could actually catch me, the great Navirou!", the cat declared confidently.  Navirou then noticed Luffy and co.

"Sorry about that folks, just dealing with some persistent Velociprey", Navirou explained, "I swear those guys never give up.  So, who are you guys?"

"I'm Luffy, and I'm gonna be king of the pirates", Luffy stated boldly, "and these guys are my crew."

The others introduced themselves to Navirou.  

"So what were those things exactly?", Nami asked, referring to the Velociprey.

"They're monsters called Velociprey.  They're bird wyverns that hunt in packs led by a Velocidrome.  Thankfully their boss isn't around otherwise we'd be in-", Navirou started, but froze when he felt something behind him.

He slowly turned around, and paled when he saw a Velocidrome towering over him.  It looked much like a Velociprey, but with a larger, brighter crest, longer claws, and it was much taller, taller than Zoro even.  Navirou gulped nervously.

"Trouble", he said nervously, finishing his earlier statement.  He tried to slowly back away, but the Velocidrome let out a loud screeching roar, causing Navirou to stumble back in a panic.  He was about to use his lightning powers, when suddenly he heard Luffy shout.

"Gum gum…PISTOL!"

Luffy pulled his arm back and punched forward, causing his arm to stretch like a rubber band and driving his fist into the Velocidrome's face.  The impact sent the bird wyvern flying into a nearby tree, knocking it out.  Navirou's jaw dropped at the sight of the unconscious Velocidrome.  He'd never seen anyone take down a monster with just a single punch.

"HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!", Navirou exclaimed, "NO HUMAN CAN STRETCH LIKE THAT!"

"I ate the Gum Gum fruit", Luffy said cheerfully, "Now I'm a rubber man."

"How does that work?", Navirou questioned.

"Haven't you heard of Devil Fruits?", Luffy asked.

"Nope", Navirou replied, "I'm not exactly from around here.  Me and my pawtner just wound up here about 2 weeks ago."

"Pawtner?", Zoro questioned.

"Yeah!  She's a super awesome monster rider!", Navirou shouted with glee, "You've gotta meet her!"  

Grabbing the egg, Navirou jumped up onto Luffy's shoulder.  

"Come on, the village is just up ahead.  There shouldn't be anymore monsters", Navirou said.

…

"So much for those pirates being a threat", I huffed, checking the sharpness of one of the spikes on my sword, "They're just passing through.  Still, that Alabasta place sounds like a great place to find a challenge.  I think they said that guy's name was Crocodile, right?  Maybe he'd be a worthy foe."

I set my great sword down and took off my helmet.  

"I hope Navirou didn't run into any trouble.  That Velocidrome is still out there."

I stood up and grabbed my sword, before heading into town.  

"Better go check and see if he made it back."  

…

"We're here!", Navirou exclaimed, hopping off of Luffy's shoulder.  Of course, the villagers seemed less than enthusiastic to see pirates wandering about their settlement.  

"Why is everyone acting all scared?", Navirou wondered, noticing the nervous villagers.

"According to that dragon rider woman, the villagers think we're here to attack them", Zoro explained.

"Dragon rider?  Oh, you guys met my pawtner then", Navirou said, "She's the coolest isn't she?"  His eyes sparkled.

"She's…something", Zoro and Usopp remarked, remembering how she had almost taken Zoro's head off.

"Navirou!", a familiar voice called out.  Both the pirates and the villagers turned to see the silver-clad hunter walking towards them, "Good to see you made it back!"

"SAURUS!", Navirou cried out with joy.  He ran over to her and jumped into her arms.  "These guys saved me from that Velocidrome.". Saurus looked up at Luffy's crew.  "Is that so?", she questioned.

"Luffy knocked it out with a single punch!  It was so cool!", Navirou explained, eyes sparkling.

Saurus's eyes widened at that.  A single punch?!  Just what was this kid?

"I see why the villagers were scared of you", Saurus said, "Taking down a monster with just a punch is almost unheard of, even if it was just a Velocidrome.  Still, you did save Navirou, so it's pretty obvious you aren't all bad."

Saurus then turned to the villagers.

"Pirate kid and his friends are alright, let them stay", she said, "They aren't here to cause trouble."

The villagers seemed wary at first, unsure if they should let the pirates stay.

"Glad to see you finally made some friends, Saurus", an elderly voice said.

The group turned to see an elderly woman emerge from the crowd.  

"They are hardly my friends, elder Kirika", Saurus said, "They just saved Navirou, that's all."

"Whatever you say dear", Kirika replied, turning to Luffy, "I am elder Kirika, chief of Kori Village.  I apologize if the others are wary of your presence, we've had trouble with pirates before.  They and the marines frequently come and harass us, taking our supplies, so we do not frequently tolerate newcomers."

"Saurus and I chased some of those guys away last week", Navirou explained.  Kirika nodded.  "These two have become sort of like our protectors", she said.  

"Well, we're not here to steal", Nami said, "We just need to restock and wait for the log pose to reset."

Kirika nodded once more.  "You are welcome to stay at my home for the time being.  Saurus and Navirou are staying there as well.  My home has plenty of room, so don't worry."

…

The Straw Hats followed Kirika, Saurus and Navirou to the house in the woods.  Inside the house it was quite spacious, with several bedrooms, which Kirika explained were more frequently used when the island received peaceful visitors.  However, the number of invasions in recent months have reduced those visitors' numbers significantly.  

In the main room there was a fireplace, a table, and several chairs surrounding it.  There was a medium sized kitchen, and a dining room which a table that could seat all of them comfortably.  Once everyone was settled in they decided to go out and explore the village.  

"If they are going out, so am I", Saurus said, "Besides, that Velocidrome is probably awake by now and needs to be slain."

Saurus grabbed her silver Rathalos sword, put on her helmet, and left.  She called for Ratha, who flew over to her.  She hopped on his back and they took off to hunt down the Velocidrome.  

[dcnativegal]

Another autumn behind the sagebrush curtain

Something I’m getting used to in Christmas Valley is body odor. I don’t want to embarrass my smelly clients but I also need to breathe, so I regularly plug in one of those melted wax aromatic thingamajigs, and it does help. But I was in line at the Chevron, which is also kind of a fast food joint and a grocery store, and the gentleman before me was quite odiferous. Wow, phew, ack. A lot of my clients and perhaps a significant part of the population up in North County is without running water, sewage hookup, and/or electricity. Maybe you’ve heard of that zen saying’. Before Enlightenment: chop wood, haul water. After Enlightenment, chop wood, haul water. Well, all that chopping and hauling is the day to day reality here with no pretensions for spiritual edification.

I did a couple’s counseling session recently and one point of contention was who does the dishes. Sounds familiar to most couples, amiright? In this case, it’s a matter of hauling water and sometimes but not always heating it to do the dishes. Good grief. Same with gardening. You want vegetables? You gotta haul the water.

When money is tight, and a felon and his disabled girlfriend are living on her disability check, and sometimes his phone is out of minutes and sometimes hers is, and they haul water, and sometimes pay for a shower at the RV park ($4. Not sure if shampoo is provided), and the laundromat is 40 miles from your homestead…. Body odor will result. Me and my nose will adapt.

**

Winter is on its way. We’ve already had several frosts. The outdoor potted plants are now indoor. We never did plant the azaleas that Karen gave us to prove that azaleas are possible to grow in the high desert. (I remain skeptical.) One just up and died, and the other one is on a window ledge by the wood stove. I’m back to keeping a warm coat in the car just in case the car breaks down and I have to wait in the cold for help. I have an emergency kit, a spare tire, bottled water and protein bars. I don’t plan to break down any time soon or to hit a deer or god help me an elk, but you never know. I’ve learned from last winter to be prepared. Cell phone reception is an iffy thing, and we all depend on the kindness of strangers in bad weather.  At the beginning of November, I’ll have my studded tires put on and then I’ll be ready for whatever ice and snow gets tossed on us humans in these high altitudes.

I learned recently that for every 1000 feet in altitude, it is 5 degrees color than at sea level. So at 4,000 feet up, it’s 20 degrees cooler. Lakeview, the county seat, is the highest altitude town in Oregon. That doesn’t seem right, since there are the Cascades and all. Maybe the highest county seat.

It’s gonna be in the 80s today in DC. A bit warm for early October but by no means unusual. It was 29 last night in Paisley.

**

I’ve graduated a bunch of people with Substance Use Disorder since I started in February, giving them a certificate, notifying their probation officer, closing out their treatment plan, changing their diagnosis to say, in remission, making a compliance note, and then a service conclusion note. They are so happy not to have to call in every morning to see if their random urinalysis color is on for the day. If their color is called, they have to get to our offices during the day, and if they work a job during the day, it’s a hassle, although most employers are cool with it.  I’ve been flexible with my clients since I started practicing in North Lake, allowing the clients to come in for a spit test (for guys because I’m a gal) or a pee test or UA (for gals because I’m a gal so I can watch them pee. Oh joy.) when they are already in town, saving them gas and another trip to come in between 4 and 5 when we’re supposed to be most available for drug tests. And I’ve been happy to oblige. However, I’ve been informed from people above my pay grade that I’m not supposed to be that flexible, ‘cause then everyone will want to come in whenever. So new clients are going to have to come in from 4 to 5pm when their color is called. Gas or no gas. If they ‘no show’, they have to start the 90 days over again.

I have an ambivalent relationship to the punitive aspects of drug treatment. Sometimes I think, just have abundant available treatment options, people, and come on, taxpayers, pay up. And other times I see that, in one case or another, threat of jail and even brief time in jail scares them sober. I’m particularly worried about the poverty around here. A gallon of gas is beyond some folks some days. I do encourage my clients to quit smoking because you could buy gas with that cigarette money.

Or food. One of my clients just had kids taken by DHS and now the client is not eligible for food stamps. Apparently, when single years ago, this client could get food stamps for a month near to $200. Not anymore. Do folks realize that it is Democrats who shore up the ‘safety net’ and increase food stamp allowances? Not these folks. If they vote, they vote Republican. Do I point this out in session? No, I do not.

**

I wish I could tell you some stories from my clients’ worlds but I can’t. I will share themes, instead.

One theme for people with ‘substance use disorders’ is about cannabis.  I have at least 4 clients who have stopped using methamphetamine, and good on them. Seriously. But they still smoke pot. Weed. A bowl. Now and then or several times a day. And they object to the fact that their body fluid drug tests (spit or pee) are ‘dirty’ with THC. They stopped using meth! They aren’t drinking whisky or beer. Why can’t they have weed? It’s LEGAL. It’s NATURAL.

If you’re under 18 it is NOT legal.

If you’re on probation for a drug offense, and sometimes if it is not a drug offense but you’re on probation, or you lost your kids to foster care for domestic violence, then YOU CAN’T USE POT. PERIOD.

I tell them, I’m so sorry, but that’s the rules. And my job is to help you get off probation. I did not make the rules. Neither did the probation officers. If they want to lobby Oregon state legislature, get on to Salem, and knock yourself out. Meanwhile, YOU CAN’T USE IT.

So then I hear, but I can’t sleep without it. I get so angry without it. It helps me cope with my PTSD. Which is for real.

It’s MEDICINAL.

Do they have a medical marijuana card? Nope. And even if they did, most judges say, tough, no THC in the drug test. No nothing in the drug test. Not a single beer.

Okay then, let’s look at the options for treating the PTSD. Nightmares, flashbacks, panic attacks, hypervigilance. There are options. Some of them has to do with talk therapy, and that’s where I come in. but there is help from medications. There really is. I’ve seen it work since I got here. We have a psychiatric consultant who is a nurse practitioner. He treats half the rural counties in Oregon, and does it remotely from The Dalles. Thursday is Lake County day. He looks like Arlo Guthrie, and recently failed to kill a single elk with his bow during a 10 day vacation.

Okay, so these clients then say, drugs aren’t natural. Pot is natural.

My retort is that arsenic and uranium are natural, too.

They don’t want to be dependent on a drug. Excuse me, what is cannabis? They don’t want to have to pay for a drug. They grow their own medicine in the form of pot and why is that a problem? I mention again, it’s against the terms of probation.

But, but, I once was on a drug and it made me crazy. Did you try another drug? Nope.

I don’t believe in drugs. So if you had an infection in your leg and it was either take an antibiotic or have it cut off, what would you do? Stuff it with herbs and wait.

See what I’m up against? Those clients who kicked meth but work daily on 6 bowls of pot, chopping wood, hauling water, hustling cigarettes, bartering for hay for the goats and feed for the chickens are going to be on probation forever. I’ve had clients on probation for 7 years. Alrighty then. I’m taking your spit and meeting with you and your probation officer looks at you with the stink eye and Oregon Health Plan pays for me and the spit, and taxpayers pay for the probation officer, and here we are.

For the folks who finally get clean of all of those substances, gosh they are my favorite clients. I miss them when they graduate. They are so glad to be done, to be off probation, to have a simple life with a job and their kids at home, and church on Sunday. I give them their certificate, tell them to stop by to visit if they’re nearby, lend them movies for free, and remind them to be nice to gay people. (Especially at church.) Off they go.

At some point they made a decision to get clean and stay clean. For most but not all it was residential rehabilitation that did they trick. Removed them from their day to day, sat them down with a counselor and with a group of fellow ‘substance use disordered’ folks, and forced them to gaze at their navel. After a month or 3 months, boom, they are clean and sober. They return to 90 days of random testing and weekly visits with me in what is called aftercare. And then, they are DONE.  And their sweet simple life is so sweet and so blissfully simple.

Mostly I sit and listen to their stories. I am grateful to be a witness to their transformation.

**

I wish I could do a study of all the gay people who grew up in Lake County. I’d like to know how they survived high school at one of the three schools (North Lake, Paisley and Lakeview). When did they came out to themselves, to one other person, to their parents, and what happened then? Where did they move after high school? How out are they now? And are they okay. (Did it get better?)

I have pretty darn good gaydar which I keep refining over the years. I’ve been wrong a few times, because effeminate men can be straight, and butch women can be, too. But I knew the first few minutes of the movie Juno that the actress, Ellen Page, was gay, and that was years before she came out. I just knew it by how she marched to the convenience store for yet another pregnancy test. I said, lesbian. Queen Latifah is gay, too. I don’t think she’s ever coming out. Jody Foster. Most definitely, and finally out. Anyway, there are two boys in Paisley that I think are gay. And I don’t know for sure. But I wish I could cast a protective aura around them. Because whatever they evolve into, (gay, bisexual, trans) they could be targeted because they are gentler, more creative, and have emotional intelligence.  We’ll see. I’m not close enough to either of them to offer protection. And one is related to a very conservative family. So I’m just watching. I’m not sure what else to do. I go to the same church as these boys (when I go to church in Paisley). So that’s something. My mere presence as an out gay person must mean something.

Maybe next June I’ll hang a rainbow flag on the house. I fear a stray bullet. Or rather, an intentional bullet coming from a 12 gauge.  I know, from good authority (Valerie’s daughter), that ‘nobody cares.’  But I don’t quite believe that. I still don’t have the nerve to put on my car, in defiance, the brilliant bumper sticker: I don’t mind straight people if they act gay in public.

I miss gay people. There is Valerie. And a few lesbians in Klamath County that I located with the help of google, the Herald and News (out of Klamath Falls) and one lesbian in particular who hooked me up with the others. I am ridiculously glad to see my one gay male friend who works with some of my clients, and now that another of my clients has moved to a third foster home, he is no longer the client’s worker so I see him less often. But he stopped by last week in Christmas Valley and is investigating a former client so maybe I’ll see more of him. Not that I ever wish anyone to be investigated because some kid is neglected. But sometimes kids need to be rescued and parents need a wake up call. He’s an awesome social worker, and all around great husband and father to four kids (who were born to substance use disordered cousins). Gay men make perfect friends for women, gay or straight. They have emotional intelligence. They don’t want to get in your pants. And sometimes, they share your interests, like knitting. Or social work. Valerie’s first husband’s husband knits AND crochets.

**

It’s dusty out here. Sometimes it’s alkali dust from the dried patches of the lakes, when the wind is just right. Sometimes it’s dirt dust. This weekend I’m staying in a tiny town in Deschutes county where Valerie is cow and puppy sitting. The ranch house is full of flies; she says it’s because of how close the leppies (baby calves whose mother rejected them) are to the house. But when I visited her here when she was the main ranchhand, a few summers ago, there were piles of dead flies in the window sills. She was just now talking to her sister on the phone and walking around killing fly after fly. I am amazed at her deadly skill. And then there’s dust. On everything. Thick layers of it. She apparently mopped thoroughly ever single floorboard just yesterday. Today I can write my name in the dust with my be-socked toe. The views from the house are beautiful. The house itself is adorable, with a lovely porch, decorated in Rustic Cowboy. But I am having trouble with the dust. Val says, at least it’s not bus exhaust and city soot. Yea, true. But when I close the windows in the city, the soot stays outside. She says it’s because of the wind here. And the dirt is just real dry. The dirt can go wherever it wants to! I just don’t want to live in it.

I didn’t realize I’m such a prissy butt.

**

I’m near to Bend while visiting Brothers, which is a proper city, with stop lights and everything. I have a ‘must visit’ list now every time I approach a city: If it’s Sunday, I attend church. I check out the ethnic food. (I highly recommend the salmon pho with the cheerful all-male waiters at the Vietnamese.) I check out the local yarn shop and make a bee line for the sale bin. And I see a movie.  If I’m lucky I can do all four.

Tomorrow, we’re going to an episcopal church, and sing hymns with multiple verses that I recognize. Alleluia. Not sure where we’ll eat. I’m voting for Indian. I have enough yarn (for the rest of my existence) so I’ll pass on the store this time. On Monday when I’m heading back south, I’ll go into Bend again and I’ll probably see Blade Runner 2049. I loved the first version, and I’ll love this one, too. I’ll have had my fix, and head south into a food desert, conservative churches, and zero movie theaters. Although the chili and cornbread at the Sage Hen Café is pretty good and I love the chicken and avocado Caesar salad at ‘erry’ restaurant. It used to be Jerry’s, but the J and the s are missing.

**

Dallas is not in Texas. Springfield is not in Massachusetts or Ohio. Lewisburg is not in Pennsylvania.  Florence is not in Italy. Newport is not in Rhode Island. Bridgeport is not in Connecticut. Warrenton is not in Virginia. Oakland is not in California.  I’ve mentioned before that Albany is not in New York, and Ontario is not in Canada, either. They are all in Oregon. The ocean, known as the coast or the beach, is West, not East, of wherever I am. Do not under any circumstances pass a snow plow on the right. That’s just dumb. And never go into a rural area without a full tank of gas. I started out at the edge of a reservation on the way to Portland recently and figured there was a gas station. WRONG. I spent about 30 miles wondering what I would do if I ran out of gas. With no phone signal. And way past the age where all I had to do was show a little leg (a la It Happened One Night.)  I figured maybe I write a big sign that said OUT OF GAS, and pray. But I finally made it to a gas station just in time.

Also in Oregon: Sweet Home, Bonanza, Remote. Halfway, Paradise, Pendleton, Aloha. Eightmile, Thirtymile, Tenmile and Friend. Chiloquin, Keno, and Paisley.

**

One benefit of living in a frontier outpost is that there are virtually no chain businesses, with the exception of a couple of gas stations and the one Safeway in Lakeview. One Dollar Store and a True Value. Everything else is a small business. You can buy almost anything from a store that has only one location. I can buy excellent quality yarn at Willows in Christmas Valley. There are at least 3 thrift shops with big selections. I bought a little bit of furniture for my office at a store in Lakeview. Many stores serve multiple functions, like the Chevron/fast food/grocery store. The True Value sells toys. You can buy clothes and rent movies at Santa’s Hardware in Christmas Valley. Ammo, knickknacks, milk, nails, and deodorant are available at the Paisley Mercantile. If you’re into quilting, there are shops in Lakeview and Paisley. The county could use more pharmacies—there is only one, called Howard’s, in Lakeview. And there is the one hospital, of which I am an employee since they took over the county mental health service. Folks in north lake county go shopping up in another county, Deschutes, where there is Costco and Walmart and BiMart, which has a pharmacy. Is BiMart only for bisexuals? No. Bisexuals are the largest category of not-straight, though you’d never know it by popular culture. I guess I’d have to dust off my official bisexual card. Kidding. No such thing. I’m a lesbian-identified bisexual, based on my history, and a persistent crush on Ryan Gosling. Anyway, we support small businesses out of necessity here in the Oregon Outback because we have no choice. And I gladly pay a little more for gas at the Summer Lake General Store and the Chewaucan garage to thank them for persisting and existing.

**

Since I moved out here, I’ve been especially interested in stories in the news about people who are building bridges, across class and race and political party. Black friends on facebook encourage all their white friends to be a proactive ally against racism in all its forms. I do speak up when there is an opportunity, which is a tricky thing to recognize. Speaking up in a way that communicates, and builds a bridge. I listen to a bunch of podcasts which are focusing on studies of bias (Hidden Brain, Invisibilia, Freakonomics.)  A recent story from Sincerely x was narrated by a black woman who was told repeatedly by her mom and her teachers that she ‘ain’t nothing, and ain’t gonna BE nothing.’  She has proven everyone wrong. I listen to This American Life, Moth Radio Hour, Strangers, Terrible Thanks for Asking, and a couple with funny names like “Conversations with People who Hate Me.”  There’s a podcast called Home of the Brave, and the narrator interviews Trump supporters hoping to understand them better, and another called Strangers, same thing. Us & Them is a podcast out of West Virginia. It had a recent episode called Hillers and Creekers which described the bullying that upper class (Hillers) did to working class (Creekers) residents. Wow. To make sure I don’t lose touch altogether with black culture, I listen to 2 Dope Queens and Historically Black. I’ve subscribed to Reparations but haven’t listened yet. There’s Still Processing from the New York Times, which focused on biracial folks in the most recent episode. I fill my ears and mind with hours of podcasts every week, what with all the driving I do beyond the reach of radio. I am the better for it.  I may work less than 30 hours a week, but I drive another 8 hours for my commute.

I confess I wish someone would like to build a bridge to me. A friend of Valerie’s invited us over for dinner early on, and included one of the resident gun-worshipping, trump-supporting curmudgeons. She proceeded to start a conversation about racism. It did not go well. Of course, the curmudgeon did not have a racist bone in his body (where are those blasted racist bones, anyway?) And, naturally, he’d had one unfortunate encounter with a black person in which the black person was mean to him and so, that’s it: black people had a chance and they blew it. It was too vast a territory to traverse over tri tip. He didn’t trust me. And I don’t know what our host intended. Self-described as a moderate republican, she is a decent person, and noble to the point of saintliness in some of her activities here in rural America. But I felt put on the spot, and discouraged. I’m game. But I do not desire to be put on a hot seat and ask to explain 400 years of white supremacy, and why it is still real and still important, as a sort of freak show. I had an idea about starting an anti-racist book group when I first arrived. Let me get my health together first; i just don’t have the energy right now.

**

Have I mentioned how gorgeously beautifully picturesque this place is? How happy I am to snuggle next to my beloved girlfriend in the fake brass bed I got off of the DC Craigslist? How much I enjoy all the wool I am collecting? I am one prolific lap blanket maker right about now. How glad I am that I made this move?