#Also I struggled for a word for the early Wind Group

[bonefall]

Out of curiosity, do you plan to keep Quiet Rain traveling from the mountains to find her sons? And if so, how does that go? Specifically with a certain son who is no longer getting a redemption arc?

No, it bothers me immensely when WC says,

"These cats are on a long and perilous journey! It's full of dangers! They must rely on each other to survive!"

And then a few books later when they're bored of that, they're like

"Anyway this elderly grandparent made the journey all alone."

Even in the redux of Graystripe's Vow, Ferncloud's Parting, there's going to be 3 cats going back to Chelford. One of them is a young and able warrior, Bumblestripe.

So Quiet Wing is only going to appear as a ghost. Though it is funny that the narrative literally drags in the dictator's mom to scold him, there's just no point in my redux.

Sun Shadow is the only "second migration" Tribe Cat now. The rest are offspring of the main characters, and cats who were part of the River Kingdom and Wind Empire that the main characters are going to get to know better over time.

[millyh23]

Abuelita

Alexia Putellas x Reader

word count:

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The Barça team was gathered at a lively café, chatting and laughing over coffee and pastries. Alexia was seated comfortably beside you, her arm resting on the back of your chair, as she listened to Vicky animatedly tell a story to Jana, Bruna, and Salma across the table.

Vicky’s words flowed quickly, with phrases that even you had to concentrate on to catch. But Alexia was nodding along, as if she understood every word—until she leaned in, eyebrows furrowing.

"Wait… what does ‘it hits different’ mean?” Alexia asked, looking between them, a bit lost. The younger girls exchanged amused glances.

“Ah, Ale,” Bruna said, barely hiding her grin. “You wouldn’t get it. Too old-school.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing at Mapi, who had also caught the teasing. She shot you a mischievous look before leaning in with a grin. “Hear that, Ale? Gen Z is trying to tell you something.”

“Excuse me,” Alexia protested, scandalized, her eyes darting between the girls and you. “Old? I’m not old!”

“Oh, sure,” you teased, patting her knee. “Next thing you know, they’ll be showing you how to use emojis, abuelita.”

Everyone burst into laughter, and Alexia’s mouth dropped open in exaggerated shock. “I am not an abuelita! Just because I missed a couple of phrases!”

Salma winked. “It’s okay, Ale. You’re vintage.”

Mapi leaned closer to you, laughing as she whispered, “And here I thought she was the queen of cool.”

Later that evening, you and Alexia were back home, winding down on the couch. She had one arm slung over the backrest, scrolling through her phone, her usual relaxed expression back in place. But you couldn’t resist one last tease.

You nudged her, hiding a grin. “You know, they had a point. You were really struggling today with the slang.”

Alexia narrowed her eyes, giving you a playful glare. “Don’t even start.”

You stretched your arms over your head dramatically. “It’s fine! I get it. You’re probably used to words like… I don’t know, fax machine and VHS—totally normal, classic stuff.”

She scoffed, setting her phone aside and shifting to face you. “Excuse me, I’m not ancient! I’m 30, Y/N.”

“30 is practically 40,” you said with a smirk. “And 40 is practically—”

“Don’t you dare continue.” She tried to look offended but couldn’t keep a straight face, her lips twitching into a smile.

You shrugged innocently. “Hey, I’m just saying, maybe you should start preparing. We can get you one of those pill organizers and a nice pair of reading glasses—”

Alexia scoffed again, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re hilarious, you know that?”

“I try,” you said with a wink. “But seriously, I could teach you some phrases. We can get you caught up with the cool kids. How about lowkey? Like, lowkey, you’re kinda cute even if you’re old.”

“Lowkey, you’re testing my patience,” she shot back, but she was laughing now, tugging you into her side.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop… for now,” you relented, snuggling up against her, feeling her relax under your touch.

Alexia huffed, pretending to sulk. “I’m telling the team you’re a bully.”

“Oh, please. They already know I’m your biggest fan,” you teased, smiling as you felt her laugh under you.

---

It was a typical Saturday evening, and you and Alexia were sprawled out on the couch after a long day of training. You were scrolling through your phone, catching up on messages, while Alexia sat next to you, humming absently as she flicked through a magazine.

Suddenly, your phone pinged, and you saw the group chat lighting up. The usual suspects—Vicky, Jana, Bruna, and Salma—had started their usual banter.

Vicky: “Anyone up for dinner at 8? I’m thinking sushi 🍣.”

Jana: “I’m in! LFG! 🍻”

Bruna: “Same here, but gotta bounce early. Gotta get my beauty sleep 😴”

Salma: “Same, girl. TTYL!”

You smiled, seeing the typical chaos in the chat, but then you noticed Alexia peeking over your shoulder, trying to read the messages.

“What’s ‘LFG’?” Alexia asked, squinting at the screen.

You turned to her with a grin. “You don’t know?”

She straightened up, looking defensive. “Of course, I do. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Right. Sure.”

Alexia leaned back with a casual shrug, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal. “Well, what does it mean?”

You suppressed a laugh. “It means Let’s F*ing Go, Ale.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, then she quickly tried to recover. “Oh, right. Totally knew that.” She gave you a nod, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sure you did.”

The next message pinged up.

Vicky: “Yo, can someone get the S&P from the fridge? ASAP?”

Alexia furrowed her brows again. “What’s ‘S&P’?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Salt and Pepper, Ale. Obviously.”

Alexia looked at you, trying to keep her cool. “Well, I knew that,” she said confidently, though you could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Another ping came through.

Jana: “BRB, gotta grab my OOTD for dinner!”

Alexia just blinked. “Okay, I know BRB means ‘be right back’… but what’s OOTD?”

You bit your lip to suppress a laugh. “Outfit of the Day, babe. Classic fashion lingo.”

She exhaled sharply. “Of course, I knew that.”

“Right,” you teased. “Totally.”

Another message came through, this time from Bruna.

Bruna: “That’s a mood, Vicky!”

Alexia stared at it for a long moment. “…What does ‘mood’ mean? Like, the weather?”

Now, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You burst out laughing, clutching your stomach. “No, Ale. Mood means—well, I guess you can think of it as like when something vibes with you.”

Alexia looked horrified, but instead of admitting defeat, she crossed her arms defiantly. “Okay, well, I’m learning. I’m not old like you think I am.”

“Uh-huh,” you teased, ruffling her hair playfully. “Keep telling yourself that, Ale.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “I’m definitely not as bad as you make it sound.”

You leaned over, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re adorable, Ale. Don’t worry, I’m here to help you with your cool kid education.”

As the next message came through, you saw Alexia’s eyes narrowing at the screen, but this time, she kept her mouth shut, likely trying to figure it out on her own.

Salma: “Catch y’all at 8, IRL. Can’t wait for the vibes ✌🏼”

You waited a moment, then turned to Alexia with a grin. “Do you know what IRL means?”

Alexia’s face betrayed her confidence now. She stared at the screen and then looked back at you, frowning slightly. “It’s… not important.”

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. “You don’t know, do you?”

“I know! It’s… I’m Really Lame,” she said, her voice rising a bit as if she was trying to convince herself more than you.

You burst into laughter again, earning a playful shove from Alexia. “You’re so full of it, Ale.”

“Fine,” she huffed, slumping dramatically. “Maybe I’m a little behind. But I’m catching up!”

You smiled, wrapping your arm around her. “Don’t worry, I’m here for you. You’re not that old.”

“Ha ha, funny,” she muttered, giving you a sideways glare. “I’m going to learn all the abbreviations, and then I’ll make you feel ancient.”

“Good luck with that,” you grinned, kissing the top of her head. “In the meantime, I’ll just keep you up to date on all the latest slang.”

Alexia mumbled something, but you caught her trying not to smile. It was cute—though she’d never admit it, you knew she was secretly enjoying being the student for once.

After a long week of intense training, you dropped onto the couch beside Alexia with a dramatic groan, sinking into the cushions like you were trying to become part of the furniture.

“Ugh, my back is killing me,” you muttered, rubbing at a sore spot between your shoulders.

Alexia raised an eyebrow, the corners of her mouth curling up in a smirk. “Who’s old now, hmm?” she teased, giving you a light nudge.

You glared at her, feigning offense. “Excuse me, my back pain is from being overworked, not from old age.”

She chuckled, stretching out beside you and crossing her arms over her chest. “Sure, keep telling yourself that. You sounded like a grandma just now.”

“Alright, abuelita,” she cooed in a teasing tone, grinning as she patted your hand like you were ancient.

You gave her a playful shove, trying to suppress a laugh. “Listen, just because I have one tiny backache doesn’t mean I’m old.”

Alexia tilted her head with an exaggerated look of sympathy. “Do we need to get you one of those heated blankets? Or maybe a nice back brace?”

“Oh, you’re hilarious, Ale,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t stop smiling.

She leaned in, clearly relishing the moment. “I mean, I could help you schedule a physical therapy appointment. Maybe get you into some gentle yoga?”

You laughed, trying to hide how much you were enjoying her teasing. “Please, I’m still in my prime! You, on the other hand, are the one struggling to keep up with Gen Z slang.”

She raised her hands in surrender, feigning innocence. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go… for now. But I’m just saying, if you need me to fetch you some extra pillows, just let me know.”

You groaned, reaching for a pillow to toss at her, which she dodged easily, laughing.

“Alright, maybe I’ll go see the team physio,” you admitted, finally giving in. “But only if you promise to stop calling me abuelita.”

Alexia leaned back, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied grin. “We’ll see, grandma. I- I mean amore," Alexia quickly corrected.

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

The End

[iela-0989]

Zutara Big Bang 2024

Pride and Prejudice

@zkbigbang

[ID: A digital drawing of a six-panel comic featuring Zuko and Katara from Avatar The Last Airbender. The scene took place during early in the morning, at sunrise. Both Zuko and Katara are standing while facing each other. Zuko had his long hair tied back in ponytail with a soft wave fringe. While Katara had her hair Dutch braided on the back with hair loopies on both sides. They both are wearing dark and warm long coats. Their hairs and clothes are billowing in the wind. In panel 1, Zuko is looking at Katara with sullen look and a small smile on his face. He said, "You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love... I love... I Love You." Panel 2, Katara is looking earnestly at Zuko with glistening eyes. Zuko words continues, "I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. From Panel 3 to 6, Zuko and Katara appears in one frame from their side profile view, standing close to each other. Panel 3, Katara is holding Zuko's hand and bringing it up close to her. Zuko had a slightly surprised expression on his face. While staring into Zuko's eyes Katara said, "Well then...". Panel 4, with closed eyes, Katara leans down and plants a soft kiss on the back of Zuko's hand, on his knuckles. And Zuko seems to be moved by that sudden gesture. Panel 5, Katara looking up while still holding Zuko's hand, stares into his eyes with a warm smile, and said, "Let's never be parted. I Love You Too, Zuko." Zuko staring back at Katara and smile sweetly at her. Panel 6, Zuko bows his head down towards Katara, while Katara props her head up towards Zuko, and then they lean on each other foreheads. Both have smiles on their faces. Sun shines behind them.]

(CLICK ON THE TITLE TO READ THE FIC~ THANK YOU🤗❤️)

Since this is my first time joining ZKBigBang, I am so excited to share this very piece I made for this event. I always love Pride and Prejudice AU. Thus, this fic was among my top picks during the title bidding. 

The collaboration was really fun. I really enjoyed working with the team assigned for this project. Though I barely interact in the group, being a silent reader most of the time, I'm so thankful for every support and feedback the group members gave me🥹❤️❤️

Thanks to all the Mods for making this wonderful event possible🥳🥳🥳 I can't imagine the struggles you guys have to go through in order to make sure everything's going as planned. And for that, I'm truly thankful🥰🥰🥰

Also, do check out my Artist partner @ryu-slayer lovely art and give it some love. You're gonna love their unique style and how admirable their attention to details is🥰🥰🥰

[kvroomi]

—4:53am

the road home stretched endlessly ahead as the three of you, (the moon, kita, and you) sat in the silent embrace of the night. winding through the dark countryside, there were no words spoken. the only light came from the truck’s headlights, catching the occasional glint of dew on the fields and fences that lined the way. the air inside the car was calm, filled only with the grumble of the engine and your slightly uneven breathing. stars were strewn infinitely across the night sky, their faint light spilling over your faces. whilst kita drove quietly beside you, his hands sure on the wheel and his profile serene in the glow of the dashboard—you sat in the passenger seat with your head resting against the cool glass of the window.

though right now was early sunday morning, it was late saturday night when you received the text from kita inviting you out for celebratory drinks with his friends. you were ecstatic at the opportunity to drink yourself free, and something in you had given way. you supposed it was a deep, guttural longing to let go; along with the fact that your mind had been swimming in a haze of lingering thoughts for the past couple of months, you desperately fiend for some alcohol. so later that night, surrounded by a group of enthusiastic and loud friends, you comfortably drank yourself away. it wasn’t enough to lose awareness entirely, but enough to feel unsteady.

often times, you didn’t know what to do with a best friend like kita shinsuke, whose stillness held entire conversations and whose presence could make the world feel smaller and more manageable. he was there, always. silent and steady, his presence as grounding as ever.

your first meeting with the man was quite mundane—void of any particular excitement and yet it lingered with you, etched into memory like the quiet beauty of a sunset you hadn’t expected to see.

it was a small town—the kind where everyone’s paths crossed eventually. you realised that pretty quickly when you received welcome gifts from half the town within the first week of you moving there, (safe to say you were incredibly well fed for the next week and a half).

before you’d ever met kita, he had been a mysterious enigma to you. having been close friends with his grandma after meeting at the local bakery, you’d think that also meant it was inevitable that the two of you would be introduced to one another. you quickly learned that kita was a busy man—that or he was actively avoiding you every time you were invited to visit the pair at home. you’d heard of him before, of course—how could you not? his name carried a subtle weight around town. people spoke of him with admiration like he was more rooted to the earth than most. he was reliable, dependable, and the kind of person who didn’t just talk about doing the right thing because he lived it.

when your first meeting came on a cold, misty morning at the local farmer’s market, you hadn’t even realised it was kita you had spoken to. you were struggling to balance a precarious stack of bags filled with fresh produce, a loaf of bread teetering dangerously on top. just as you’d resigned yourself to letting gravity win, a steady hand had reached out, catching the loaf mid-fall.

“you look like you’ve got your hands full,” a warm and calm voice chimed as a hand gently placed the bread back on top of your bags. startled, you looked up to find kind eyes watching you. later that day, you chalked it up to pretty privilege—because if it had been anyone else but kita, you probably would’ve snapped back with a sarcastic comment about how you had everything under control.

“thanks,” realising how intensely you had been staring, you quickly choked out some words to fill the silence. “i think i overestimated my carrying capacity.”

“i’m sure we’ve all done that a time or two,” you continued staring at him as he spoke, wide eyed as he smiled down at you with a casual softness you couldn’t quite understand. “want a hand?”

you��d hesitated—politeness warring with the undeniable relief of someone willing to help. however before you could answer, he’d simply taken a couple of bags from you, movements pure-intentioned and natural.

“it’s no trouble,” he interjected a second time, searching your face and finding the reluctance.

and that was kita—quietly stepping in when it mattered and never making a fuss about it.

from that day on, your paths seemed to cross more often. you’d exchange greetings at places like the market, on the quiet roads that wound through the countryside, and at local events where he always seemed to be lending a hand or silently ensuring things ran smoothly.

where conversations started out practical and polite—exchanging small talk about the weather, the state of the crops, or the best routes through the back roads; they had also deepened. you found yourself sharing pieces of your life with him in a way that felt natural, like pouring water into a cup that never overflowed.

kita listened; he didn’t just hear your words, he listened. his responses were thoughtful and measured as he carried each word you gave him carefully, treating it like something precious.

of course, he wasn’t the loudest presence in your life, but he quickly became the steadiest. eventually he had transformed into the one person you found yourself leaning toward the most without even realising it.

so as the days turned into weeks, the weeks in months, and the months into seasons—you began to wonder if maybe, he was leaning toward you too.

it was you who was first to speak the entire car ride home.

“you’re really interesting, shin.”

‘interesting’. what an understatement ‘interesting’ was. the word felt hollow and insulting in comparison to the fullness of what you meant. you don’t think you’ll ever find a way to articulate the quiet strength he carried, or the way he could exist completely in his own skin without trouble. even just the thought of it had left you unsteady in yours.

there was something magnetic about him, a pull that had grown stronger with every passing moment. yet you couldn’t bear to look at him now, afraid he might catch the way your thoughts spun so raw and unguarded when you were around him.

you watched the window instead, eyes trailing after the rain-dampened streets as they passed. the faint fog of your breath blurred the view on the glass, but it felt safer than meeting his gaze—safer than risking the tranquility between you breaking apart.

there was so much you wanted to say, words pressing against the edges of your throat. the steady cadence of his presence held you back and you decided that for now, it was easier to just sit beside him and let the air grow heavy with all the things you couldn’t name.

when you turn your head to look at him after a couple seconds too long of silence, you half expect a trace of teasing in his expression. it shocks you when there’s nothing except unadulterated patience as you lock eyes for a moment.

you continue, both frustrated and full of gratitude. “the way you do that thing where you just… are.”

by now, you’re sure it’s the alcohol talking.

“every single time, you always manage to stay so collected like you’ve got everything figured out! hell, i’m sitting here near tears because all i had were three drinks and sang awful karaoke.” your loud and exasperated voice turns into a slur of mumbles and grumbles by the end.

“i’d say you hold yourself together just fine,” kita replies simply, voice careful and deliberate.

“you’d be lying,” you shot back softly with a turn of your head. you watch the gravel road move with the car once more, overwhelmed.

“i don’t lie,” it’s all kita says, his hands still on the wheel.

three words that settled between you like a warm ember. it was true, kita never said anything he didn’t mean. you knew that truth about him the day you met. the fact was both comforting and unnerving, being seen so clearly by someone who didn’t look away.

when he pulled the truck up to your house, the hum of the engine cut out as he turned the key, making the silence in the air come quicker and sharper. the world outside was still—the stars breathed with the faint whisper of the breeze against the trees.

kita stepped out and rounded the truck, opening your door before you could fumble with the handle. the moon was high, casting a silvery glow over the isolated farm road as he helped you out of the car. his grip was sturdy though gentle on your arm, steadying you as you wobbled,

“careful,” he whispered, arm brushing against yours as he guided you toward the porch. the touch of your skin against his was accidental, yet it burned him like it wasn’t. his steps faltered, just for a second as if the air itself had thickened.

he could feel the tension in his own muscles and chest, unsure what to do with it. when your shoulder brushed his again, this time for a little longer, he almost passed out with how quickly his pulse started to race. the adrenaline of knowing he was too close to something fragile made him yearn to pull you in and to close the gap that had been silently growing between you for what felt like eternities.

the night was cold, the air crisp and cool. you paused and reached for the door as he stood behind you patiently. you moved to grab your keys from your bag but paused abruptly to ponder for a quiet moment. you let your eyes wander over the grooves in the wood, tracing every line and discolouration until you couldn’t hold back the sheer embarrassment and shame that consumed you. “you could’ve just gone home, you know.”

“i know,” you didn’t want to turn to face him.

even though you weren’t looking at kita, he was looking at you. there was no pity in his words, neither judgment—just that steady understanding that always seemed to strip you bare. it felt dangerous; vulnerability was never common with you.

“you’re always here though—and you’re always so kind about it, even when you don’t have to be.”

it was a never ending dance with the two of you: one step forward and one step back, incapable of ever meeting in the middle. these days, you found yourself burdened with the prospect of what could be, anxious with the realisation that crossing that line meant giving a voice to the unspoken rhythm between you—a rhythm that neither of you had been brave enough to call a song.

kita frowned, a deep, harsh line forming between his eyebrows, confused by your sudden honesty. you turned and watched as his gaze started immediately searching yours.

“because i care about you.” it was said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

a laugh choked up before you could stop it. “you’re too kind shin—you make the rest of us look bad.”

despite how confused kita was with your aggressive praises, he huffed a soft laugh and shook his head. “i don’t know about that.”

“no, really,” you insisted, leaning closer. “it’s like you’ve never been afraid of anything in your life.”

kita didn’t respond right away.

instead, he let his gaze linger on you, caught in the way the stars seemed to rest against your skin. the faint glow softened every edge, highlighting the curve of your cheek, the curve of your lips. some day, he’d tell you how he believed the stars themselves weren’t the ones shining, they were borrowing their light from you that night. there was something achingly still about the way you stood there, the night folding around you like it had been waiting for you to step into it—you belonged to it more than anything else.

“you say that like it’s somethin’ bad,” was all he could mutter, afraid he’d crack and talk of the beauty you emanated in this moment.

“Ii’s not fair,” you repeated, voice cracking slightly. “i can’t keep pretending.” you throw you hands up, groaning loudly before dragging them down your face agonisingly. there’s a frog in your throat desperately trying to claw its way out.

“pretending what?”

you could barely swallow, your throat tight and coarse. the alcohol buzzed in your blood, blurring the edges of your self-restraint. “pretending that i don’t… feel the way i do. that i haven’t been trying not to look at you like this for months.”

the words hung between you, heavy like the air before a storm. you didn’t dare look away from him even as your heart thudded painfully against your ribs.

if kita was surprised, he didn’t show it. instead, he stepped just a little closer, his warmth becoming a pillar in the night that pulled you in unconsciously. “you don’t have to pretend, y’know.”

“don’t i?” your voice was barely above a whisper. “what if i say something i can’t take back?”

“then you say it,” his voice came secure and confident, an anchor that came with everything that he spoke. “and we figure it out from there.”

when you searched his face for any sign of hesitation, all you found was attentiveness so gentle and endless, a parallel to the stars that settled above you. “you make it sound so simple.”

“maybe it is,” he said. “maybe it’s just us makin’ it complicated.”

the words stirred something in you—an ache and a yearning you’d been pushing down for so long that it almost hurt to let breathe. you looked away, your fingers curling loosely against the metal of the door handle. “i think i’ve been in love with you for a while, shin,” you admitted softly, the words slipping out like a confession to the night itself.

kita was silent for a long moment, long enough that you forced yourself to look back at him, bracing for whatever came next.

“i’ve known,” you were drunk. kita knew that. he knew that whatever happened tonight was going to change the trajectory of your entire relationship onwards. his voice was soft but unshakable as he continued, “or at least, i’ve hoped.”

you blinked and you felt your breath catch in your lungs when you turned to look at him for clarity. “what do you mean?”

the space between you felt impossibly small now, charged with something that felt both delicate and infinite.

“you’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

more than anything in the world right now, kita wanted to do but be close to you. but you were drunk, and he knew that after months of pining for you, it was only fair he let you hear his confession sober. “right now, you need to get some rest,” he announced softly. “and tomorrow, when you’re feelin’ clearer, we talk about this properly. because if i’m gonna do this with you, i’m gonna do it right.”

a faint, shaky laugh escaped you as you looked away, suddenly self conscious about your giddiness. “you’re impossible.”

“maybe,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

the comfort of his words settled over you like a blanket, wrapping around all the spaces that had felt raw and uncertain just moments before. “so i’ll see you tomorrow?” the question was innocent, laced with your faint smile as you asked.

he mirrored the curve of your eyes with his own for a moment longer, his excitement unwavering. “i’ll see you tomorrow.” he replied back in affirmation with a nod of his head.

and, with that same quiet patience he stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “goodnight, y/n.” the absence of his warmth left you with a deep hole that you desperately craved to fill. but despite the yearning that followed, you accepted it with open arms, a knowing feeling that tomorrow would bring a new kind of intimacy.

“goodnight, shin,” you whispered reluctantly, turning to enter your house.

you felt the pressure of kita’s eyes disappearing as he watched as the door closed softly behind you. you sank onto the couch, your heart still racing. the confession still hung in the air, fragile but real, like the first light of morning just barely breaking over the horizon.

and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you weren’t holding the weight of it alone.

KVROOMI © 2024, DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This.... (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Fandom: Outer Range, Rhett Abbott, f!reader Summary: You and Rhett have a unique friendship. Every time you go out with a group, you end up getting drunk, dancing, and making out with him only to then wind up going home with other people. But what happens when Rhett asks you to dance before either of you has had a drink.... Word Count: 3744 TW: Fluff, Kissing, Love Confession, Drinking, Mentions of drunk making out, Mentions of drunk dancing, Language Notes: For @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special based on "You Shouldn't Kiss Me Like This" by Toby Keith (RIP 😔💗)

Despite the relatively early hour, the bar was busier than usual even for a Saturday night. You had forgotten there was some big sports thing that weekend the next town over so the overabundance of unfamiliar faces blending into the sea of regulars was a bit of a shock when you first arrived with your friends but—miraculously—the six of you managed to stake your claim on a table not too far from where you usually sat. 

However, you had struggled to squeeze through the crowd and since everyone else was already sitting when you finally caught up, it was unanimously decided you should fight your way back up to the bar to get the first round of drinks. You put up a brief mock protest before surrendering to the peer pressure, but secretly, you didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to scope out the space and see if any of the out-of-towners caught your eye. Your town wasn’t small per se, but even in a medium-sized pond, there were only so many fish. So when there was a chance at some fresh blood, why not take advantage?

What seemed like an eternity later, you pushed your way back to your friends and practically threw the beers onto the table before collapsing into the booth. While you had enjoyed watching all the new potential hookups around you, you had also been relentlessly jostled, had beer spilled on your boots, and had three separate guys grab your ass before claiming it was an “accident” due to the crowd. And all just to get a crappy $7 beer. Ridiculous.

As you took your first drink, you finally realized only five people were sitting around the table instead of six. Nudging Parker who was sitting next to you, you leaned over and shouted above the music, “Where’d Rhett go?”

She shrugged dismissively, her attention locked on some douchy-looking frat bro eye-fucking her from a few tables away. “I don’t know. He said something about going to help you with the drinks or something.”

“Well, I never saw him.”

“He’s a big boy. He’ll find his way back. Or not.” She pointed at the frat bro, signaling the end of her interest in your questions. “What do you think about him?”

Without glancing back over, you deadpanned, “I think if you let him even touch you, you should get tested in the morning.”

She rolled her eyes at you before sitting up straighter as she bit her lip and coyly waved at the frat bro, clearly dismissing you. 

You caught Alec’s eye over the top of Parker’s head and you both tried to suppress a chuckle. Parker infamously made the worst choices when it came to men and she only dug her claws in deeper when any of you tried to talk her out of them, so it was better to just let her do whatever she was going to do and help her deal with the consequences afterward.

Relaxing back in your seat, you took another long drink from your beer. It was now almost half empty and just the thought of wading back through the crowd for another one made you internally groan. Though you could probably convince Alec to go since you got the first round but that would involv–

Your internal conversation was cut off as you spotted Rhett pushing his way through the crowd towards the table. Sitting up, you smiled at him. “Oh, there you are. I thought you might have gotten trampled by the mob of people or something. Your beer’s getting war–”

“Come dance with me.”

You were taken aback as he thrust out his hand to help you up from the table. 

It was a given at this point that by the end of the night, you and Rhett would end up hammered, uninhibited, and viciously making out in the middle of the dance floor. It’s what happened every time you went to the bar: You’d both drink, you’d both dance together, you’d both get all hot and bothered, and you’d both find someone else to take you home for the night. It was a strange system but it worked. Parker once joked that you were each other’s fluffers, just getting things ready for your real targets for the night. And while you would prefer to phrase it somewhat more tastefully, she wasn’t exactly wrong. Plus, you had found that a lot of guys (and girls in Rhett’s case) loved watching you making out with someone else, rubbing your body all over theirs, just for you to go home with them instead. It seemed as if the two of you weren’t the only ones getting fluffed in this situation.

However, neither you nor Rhett ever stepped foot on the dance floor until you’d finished at least three or four beers. He was fairly shy and reserved when sober and you both were very self-conscious of your dancing before getting at least slightly buzzed. Yet you were currently only halfway through beer number one and his first beer still sat unopened on the table next to you. Rhett might have pre-gamed on his own before you, Tara, and Spencer picked him up, but he seemed completely sober so you couldn’t imagine what he was thinking. 

“I–but we–I mean…”

Rhett smiled as he leaned in close to be heard over the music. “It’s just a dance, sweetheart. It ain’t anythin’ we don’t do every week.”

“Bu-but what about our drinks?”

“I’m sure Parker—” he took one glance at your friend sitting next to you still making “do-me” eyes at the frat boy and corrected his statement “—Tara wouldn’t mind keepin’ an eye on ‘em.”

“You two go,” Tara said, smiling from where she was sitting with Spencer’s arm draped across her shoulders. “Your drinks will still be here when you get back.”

“Well…maybe,” Spencer muttered just loud enough to be heard over the music as he eyed Rhett’s untouched beer.

Tara elbowed her boyfriend with a scowl before turning back to you and gesturing for you to go. Still confused about the change in your routine, you took Rhett’s hand and let him help you to your feet. As he led you towards the dance floor, you turned your head just in time to see Tara and Spencer laughing and shaking their heads as they watched the two of you leave. Then Spencer reached for Rhett’s beer but Tara slapped his hand away. 

You knew your friends didn’t understand this weird arrangement you and Rhett had fallen into—hell, it barely made sense to you. They were all convinced as they watched you week after week that the two of you were falling in love. They never believed you’re just friends having a little drunken fun.

Not that you hadn’t ever considered Rhett as a potential love connection. The first night you met him, that was where you thought things were headed. He had finally had enough of his toxic home life back in Wyoming and was looking for a fresh start somewhere new. So when a contact from his time bull-riding who lived in town offered him a job, he jumped at the opportunity. 

You met him a few days later in this very bar when you saw him sitting all alone in the back corner. Of course, you noticed his classic-cowboy good looks, but what really caught your eye was how nervous and shy he seemed, his eyes mostly trained on the beer in front of him except when they occasionally shifted around the bar uncertainly. It wasn’t as if he were scared of someone seeing him or that he was on the run from something. No. He looked like a kid on his first day of school who wasn’t sure of where to sit at lunch.

So, you had gone and sat down at his table with two beers and a friendly smile. It took quite a bit of patience and coaxing, but Rhett eventually began to open up to you. Then, just as you were going to make the move to his side of the booth, your friends found you and asked for an introduction. By the end of the night, Rhett had slipped naturally into the gang and it felt weird pursuing him in any romantic way after that. After all, you could see how much he needed a support system in this new town and you didn’t want to take that from him for a one-night fling. 

Which was why when you found yourselves sloppily making out in the middle of the dance floor a few weeks later and he just brushed it off like it was nothing, you didn’t push it or question it. And when it happened again, and again, and again, it just felt like a routine or a tradition and you never looked deeper into it.

But now Rhett had suddenly changed things up and you still had no idea why.

Once you reached the dance floor, Rhett pulled you in close and the two of you began to dance. There were so many people around you that you couldn’t move more than a few inches in any direction, but since you usually just rubbed against each other while making out, it shouldn’t have been an issue. However, without the usual buzz from the drinks, you were way too in your head about every move you made. Your usual fluid, natural movements felt stiff and robotic, and all you could think about was where Rhett’s hands were or what part of him was pressed against you at any given time. It was a disaster.

The song ended and a soft, melodic tune began to play. Slow songs were pretty rare but they were always the perfect opportunity for another drink, and boy did you need one. You turned to brave the crowd around the bar once more, however, Rhett’s fingers slipped into yours and he spun you back into his arms.

A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth as he saw your surprised face and he asked, “You rushin’ off already? We just got out here.” 

“In case I’m the only one who has noticed, I’m not really feeling this right now. And besides, we don’t do slow dances.”

“Tonight we do.” He must have seen the hesitation still on your face because he squeezed your hand. “Come on. You can tough it out for one song, then they’ll play somethin’ fast we can move to and you’ll get into the flow of it. Otherwise, you’ll just be waitin’ in that line for the rest of the night.”

Even pressed against him and over the softer melody of the slow music, the deep timbre of his voice was still difficult to hear but you knew he was right. By the time you made it through the crowd of people to reach the bar for another drink, many upbeat songs would have passed and there was a good chance you’d be ticked off by your waiting experience just like the first time. Instead, you could just stick it out here with Rhett and you’d be back to your usual dancing in mere minutes. And he was probably right. Given a few more songs, you’d probably figure out this sober dancing thing and actually enjoy yourself. So, somewhat reluctantly, you nodded to signal you’d stay.

Apparently, many of the people around you had the same thought you originally did because the crowds around you began to thin out giving you and Rhett a little more room to maneuver. The two of you were swaying together slowly and you have to admit it’s a nice change from your usual high-energy grinding. 

Then as the music began to swell, he surprised you by spinning you out and when you twirled back into him, Rhett placed his hand on the center of your back and pulled you tight until you were pressed firmly against his chest. You looked up–unsure of what he was doing–just as his other hand brushed across your cheek to settle on the nape of your neck. One of the colored lights flashed across his face, illuminating the intensity deep within his eyes as he stared at you, and you felt your heart skip a beat as time seemed to freeze around you. 

But that was silly. This was Rhett. You shouldn’t feel this fluttering in your chest or tingling where his skin brushed yours. He was your good friend, someone you had made out with every week and barely gave it a second thought. So why was there this different feel about him tonight? Why couldn't you take your eyes off his lips, why was your head spinning, and why were your knees growing weak? And why didn’t you want it to stop?

Then, using the hand on the back of your neck to tilt your head, Rhett’s lips were suddenly on yours.

Electricity shot right through you as every nerve in your body seemed to light up at once. It felt like you had just jammed a fork into an electrical socket but in the best of ways. This was unlike any kiss you had ever shared with Rhett—with anyone—before. Usually, your kisses with Rhett were drunken, and sloppy, and uncoordinated. But this…Rhett was as sober as you ever see him, and every curl of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it all felt so fluid, almost choreographed. As if he had planned for this moment for ages. 

Your eyes drifted closed as you let yourself sink deeper into his embrace. You could no longer tell if you were standing still or spinning around and around and around as a dizzying fog enveloped your mind. For a few seconds, you didn’t even know where you were at. All that existed was you and Rhett and the kiss. 

But then you shifted, the top of your head bumping into the brim of his hat almost knocking it off, and the spell was broken. Rhett pulled away, fixing his hat, and leaving you clinging to him for support as the world came rushing back to you. The slow song was still playing and crowds of people around you still occasionally bumped into you as they danced, And yet, from the moment Rhett’s lips touched yours, everything had changed.

But had he felt it too?

With your face still just a few inches away from his, you chuckled softly. “You know, you really shouldn’t kiss me like this.”

“An’ why’s that?” 

“You might give a girl the wrong impression. Make her start thinking lots of crazy things.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just gave you that same intense stare he had just before the kiss and you felt your heart begin to speed up once more. Then, in a voice you could only just make out over the music, he asked, “What if that’s the point? What if I’m tired of waitin’ for her to figure out how I feel?”

All the air was sucked out of your lungs as his revelation drove into your chest like a fist. “Rhett…”

“No…No…” Before you could process what he was saying, he shook his head and stepped back, letting his hands fall to his sides as he released his hold on you. “’m sorry. I shouldn’t—I’m doin’ this all wrong. But I couldn’t take another week of you wrapped in my arms, your lips on mine, just to then watch you go home with someone else. I just…I just wanted you to know. ‘m sorry.”

He started to hurry off the dance floor but this time it was your turn to grab his arm to stop him from leaving. His eyes flickered up to yours and you saw that all the confidence and certainty that had been there before had been extinguished, leaving only fear behind. You knew it was the same fear you were feeling right now: fear of this changing everything; fear of this ruining your friendship; fear of what came next. 

Sliding your hand into his and linking your fingers, you muttered, “Come here” before leading him off the dance floor and back towards the rear of the building. There was a separate concert area back there that they only opened for shows so you knew it was one of the few places in the bar that would give you some semblance of privacy.

Once there, you ducked into the empty space and shut the door. You could still feel the vibrations from the music and hear the dull thumping, but it wasn’t as overwhelming as it had been before. In here, at least you and Rhett wouldn’t need to shout to be heard. 

Now that you were alone, neither one of you seemed to know what to say or how to start. You both shifted slightly as you glanced at each other. Finally, Rhett rubbed the back of his neck and said, “Listen, can we just forget any of that happened? I don’t want things to be weird between us and ‘m sorry if—”

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, cutting him off. “I was just a little surprised by that kiss and what I said didn’t come out right. But what I should have said, what I meant to say—” you stepped forward until you were brushing up against him, placing your hands on his chest. “—was ‘you shouldn’t kiss me like this…unless you mean it like that’.”

Rhett’s long eyelashes fluttered several times in quick succession and you saw his Adam’s apple bob wildly out of the corner of your eye. Licking his lips, he hesitated for another moment then asked, “And if I do? If I–If I mean it like that?”

Leaning forward, you whispered, “If you do, then, baby, kiss me again.”

The moment that his lips touched yours, the world once again fell away. If anything, now that you were returning his kiss with the same tenderness and enthusiasm, it was even more intoxicating than the kiss on the dance floor and you never wanted it to end.

Both of Rhett’s large, calloused hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb softly rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone. He used this leverage to drive you back a few steps and you soon felt your back bump against the wall. He pressed closer, sandwiching you between the cold, rough concrete and his warm, firm body. Another spark of electricity shot through you and you wondered if he felt it too as you felt the growing bulge in his pants jerk against your hip. 

Through the haze of the kiss, you briefly considered how far you should let this go. A small part of you wanted to undo his belt right this second and drop to your knees before him, or to slide down your jeans and let him pound into you against this wall. After all, the two of you were still alone and no one would see you. However, the bigger part of you knew no matter how amazing you felt at this moment, this was all very new and you shouldn’t rush things. You and Rhett still needed to figure out what this meant for the two of you moving forward, and adding sex right now would just make things even more complicated.

Rhett must have come to the same conclusion because he shifted his hips so they were no longer pressed against you. Then he reluctantly pulled his lips off of yours. His hands slid off your face onto the wall behind you, one braced on either side of your head as both of you stared at one another panting as you tried to catch your breath. All you could do was look at Rhett’s lips and imagine them pressed against yours once more. And from how he stared at you, a hunger pulsing in his blue eyes, you felt he was thinking the same thing. 

“Why didn’t you do that sooner?” you whispered.

“I wanted to since that first night we met. When I saw how kind, and funny, and incredible you were, I was smitten. But then the rest of the gang showed up and for the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. I was afraid makin’ a move on you would ruin all a that and I figured havin’ you as a friend was better than not havin’ you in my life at all. For a while, I settled for our dances and kisses, but I finally realized I didn’t want to be just your friend anymore. So, I took a chance.”

“I’m glad you did because I felt the same way.”

Rhett grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss into his cheek. “Thank you for being the brave one.”

Rhett’s cheeks grew red in the dim light but he nodded as he let his hands fall from the wall behind you. Standing up straight, he glanced over his shoulder. “Um, I guess we should probably get back before we get in trouble for bein’ back here.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if Tara’s sent Spencer out to find us yet.” You pushed off the wall, but as Rhett started to open the door, you stopped him. “Rhett…what happens now? Where do we go from here?”

He thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. Walking up to you, he plucked his cowboy hat off his head and placed it on top of yours, pulling the brim down low over your brow.

Since the night you met him, you had never seen Rhett let a single person wear his hat, let alone touch it. So for him to give it to you, even temporarily…

You squeezed his hand tightly as you gazed into his eyes, loving what you saw reflected there. “How do I look?”

“Damn, sweetheart, looks like it was made for you,” Rhett’s voice was thicker than normal as he stared at you. “I shouldda given it to you the night we met, as soon as you sat down at my table with that smile and a beer.”

Now it was your turn to feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. Glancing shyly at the floor, you asked, “I love it, but I’m not really sure how this answers my question about us?”

“What do you know about Cowboy Law?”

Taglist: @luckyladycreator2, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch

[wonlovie]

bonus chapter ! the fight

After a nasty fall, you, world-renowned figure skater and stealer of hearts, are forced into an early retirement. But with a boyfriend who’s the star player in one of Korea’s leading hockey teams and a friend group of trending skaters who refuse to leave you in the dust, the cameras stay on. So, how are you supposed to keep it a secret when Yang Jungwon, your boyfriend’s publicly declared rival and enemy, decides you’re his next target?

The boys rushed into the changing rooms with wide grins on their faces that were dripping with sweat. Jumbled cheers echoed at their victory, the nth one in a row against High1. Excited chatter filled the room as the group started getting ready to head off. The showers left steam in the air, and the hastily removed hockey gear left behind a distinct musk they’d long grown used to.

Team members left the room one by one, shouting their goodbyes as they went to get some well-deserved rest. Eventually, there were only six boys in the changing room. Jungwon’s cat-like eyes flit over the room as he surveyed his members’ conditions. Albeit exhausted from a gruelling game, everyone seemed in high spirits.

“Shame Jake couldn’t come,” Sunghoon said offhandedly as he pulled a sweater over his head. “Of course, the guy had to catch the flu before semis.” He shook his head, drops of water from his shower flicking in every direction. Sunoo threw a towel at his head, mumbling a comment about getting sick himself.

Jungwon could only laugh at his friend’s antics, sporting a proud smile as he sat on the wooden bench. “He has to rest if he wants to play for the semifinals, Hoon. We’re lucky that he got sick before a match against High1.” Rolling his eyes playfully, he continued, “If it were any other team, we might have actually struggled.”

As laughter filled the room at his jab, Jungwon’s shoulders eased into a slouch. He felt the tension lift off his body as he pulled out his phone to tell Jake about their win. The door slammed open abruptly before he could even press on his contact. 

The boys simultaneously jumped at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening at the sight of the rival team’s captain, Park Yoon, standing in the doorway. His eyes, dark with anger, scanned the room before landing on Jungwon. He felt his heart still at the eye contact but stood up defiantly.

“What are you doing in here?” Jungwon asked, almost exasperated, as he walked up to meet Yoon, arms crossed. “You must have the wrong room. This isn’t High1’s—”

Before Jungwon could utter another word, the sickening crunch of fist-to-cheek contact reverberated around the room. The other boys gasped, Heeseung and Jay moving quickly to separate the two leaders. Their attempts, however, were fruitful as Jungwon pounced at Yoon, punching him back with the same enthusiasm.

“Guys,” Heeseung exclaimed, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to hold Jungwon back. Beside him, Jay did the same with Yoon, pushing his shoulders back to shove him out of the room altogether. “Knock it off—”

His words were brushed aside as Yoon pushed past Jay and hurled another punch at Jungwon. “You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that?” Yoon hissed, eyes turning to slits as he glared at the shorter leader. “The crowd might not have seen, but I fucking saw what you did.”

Jungwon’s lips curled into a deep frown as he fisted Yoon’s hockey jersey. “What are you even talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb! I know you fucking cheated in the last period.” Yoon threw another punch, but Jungwon moved away in time, using Yoon’s momentum to knee him in the gut. The wind was knocked out of his lungs, a violent wheeze ripping from his throat as he hunched over.

“So, on top of being shit at hockey,” Jungwon narrowed his eyes at Yoon, who lunged at him once his breathing settled. “You’re also delusional! I never cheated.”

Yoon landed another punch. Jungwon winced as he stumbled back, Jay’s hands stabilizing him from behind. He touched his cheek, hissing when he came in contact with blood. “I know what I saw,” Yoon insisted, reaching back to strike Jungwon again. Thinking quickly, Jungwon jumped at him, catching him off guard. He hit Yoon’s eye, his knuckles pulsing in pain from the harsh contact.

The door slammed again, all eyes turning to see who had joined them. To everyone’s surprise, you stood there wearing a vexed look. When your eyes landed on the two captains, your expression slipped into one of concern for a moment before the anger seeped back in. 

“Yoon, are you fucking stupid?” You rasped, eyes darting back and forth between the captain’s bloodied faces. “What are you doing?” Taking wide steps, you reached the two in a matter of seconds, looking at your boyfriend incredulously. He avoided your gaze, instead opting to look daggers at Jungwon, whose eyes were trained on you.

Before Jungwon could even process that you were in their changing room, he noticed Yoon moving out of the corner of his eye. He reacted late, closing his eyes in anticipation of Yoon’s assault. Jungwon heard the impact of skin on skin and the sound of someone stumbling, but he felt nothing. Opening his eyes, he gaped when he saw you hunched over, cupping your face in pain as Yoon stared at your crumpled form, wide-eyed.

Yoon glanced at you, then at his fist, and back to you again. It looked like he wanted to say something, but when he looked up and met Jungwon’s peeved gaze, he almost growled in annoyance. Without another word, he stormed out.

The room was quiet for a second, aside from Riki’s utterance of ‘unbelievable.’ Jungwon stared at you for a moment longer before looking at the boys over his shoulder. “Out. Now.”

They didn’t take long to get the memo, scuttling out of the room after grabbing their things. Only you and Jungwon were left in the room, an awkward silence falling upon you. Your face ached from the impact of Yoon’s heavy-handed punch—no doubt you’d be bruised by tomorrow morning. You could vaguely feel blood drip from your cheekbone. Yoon’s ring must’ve left a scratch.

Clearing his throat, Jungwon took a tiny step toward you. Bowing his head a bit to see the damage, his round eyes darted to yours, worry swirling in his dark hues. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

You looked at him with shock conveyed behind your expression, blinking rapidly as you processed his question. You almost hadn’t expected him to hold any compassion for you since you were his arch-enemy’s girlfriend. Wordlessly, you nodded.

He didn’t seem too convinced, frowning as he moved closer to inspect your cheek. He mumbled for you to wait a second before rushing to his duffle bag, sifting through the contents momentarily. You watched as he searched for something, a relieved look on his face as he pulled out a small first-aid kit.

Jungwon returned to you, ushering you to sit on one of the nearby benches. You didn’t argue, staring at him inquisitively as he fumbled with the kit. He said nothing else as he gently wiped the blood from your wound, lips pursed in concentration. You’d never seen him this close before, but he was taking your breath away just as he had at the rink.

You swallowed thickly, looking at one of the room's corners to avoid his intimidating gaze.

He applied an ointment on your cheek, proudly looking back at his work. “I don’t think you’ll need a bandaid. The bleeding stopped, and it’s not too big of a scratch.” He went to close the first-aid kit but paused, looking up at you through his bangs. “Unless you want one?”

“No,” you said quickly, cringing at how high your voice had come out. “No. I should be okay. Thank you for doing that.”

“It’s no problem,” Jungwon said with a soft smile, clicking the kit closed. He stayed there briefly as if he had something else to say. Clenching onto the first-aid kit tightly, he looked at you earnestly, “You were at the rink yesterday, right? So does that mean your leg is better now?”

You physically cringed at the question, a deep frown embedding itself onto your face before you could stop it. Sensing that he made a mistake, Jungwon panicked. Waving his arms in front of him as though to disperse the air of his previous question, he shot you an extremely nervous smile. “Sorry! Ignore that, please.” Biting down on his lip, he opened his mouth again, “Meet me at the rink tomorrow? At two? I’ll book it so we’re alone.”

You stared at him in disbelief, jaw slightly agape. Before you could answer, you noticed some movement outside the door, which had been cracked open a smidge. Narrowing your eyes, you made contact with the rest of Jungwon’s teammates. Jungwon’s gaze followed your line of sight, his neutral expression dropping into mild disappointment when he realized they had been listening the whole time.

“Guys…” Jungwon started, peeved that your conversation had been interrupted. You could hear them swear at getting caught, immediately running off before they could genuinely face Jungwon’s wrath. You stifled a laugh at their odd behaviour, glancing up at Jungwon. He sighed heavily, shoulders deflating slightly as he dropped his head into one hand. The tips of his ears seemed red, although you noted it might be from the cool air coming into the room.

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taglist [open!]

@jiawji @lovelovelovebts @enhacatalog @manooffline @delulu4-life @sooshibot @j1nniee @lilriswife4life @maimoirs @shinrjj @bluxjun @aylin-hijabi @luviehyck

©WONLOVIE please do not plagiarize, repost, translate, or copy any of my works.

[captain-sharkie]

Oh my god this one was a struggle anyways YAYAYAYAYAYYAYAYAYAYA

SHE HAS RISEN BABY GIRL (ANYWAYS LMAFO-)

Story under the cut!

Chapter 3

Word count 2692

Warnings Blood & gore mentions (briefly also lamb looses his head for a moment)

It was early in the morning, having been walking for what felt like days, Lambert sighed as the bishops followed behind them.

“Are we there yet?” Leshy asked for the ninth time,

“Nope….” Heket coughed,

Leshy just groaned, the trees slowly beginning to part from one another, the daylight peaking between tree bark

“We’ve gone through Darkwood, Anura, Anchordeep… how much longer until we get to this forsaken bridge…” Narinder groaned, Shamura just shrugged

“I don't ever remember a bridge being this way…” Shamura hummed, a brow raised

“It’s too bright.” Narinder huffed, adjusting the veil they wore under the hood,

“You’ll live.” Leshy spoke, walking directly into a tree

Narinder laughed and Lambert just groaned

“Stop laughing! that hurt!” Leshy huffed, hand grabbing at his own face,

“You’ll live.” Narinder chuckled as they continued walking

The wind was cool and the sun bright, a perfect morning as usual.

Lambert stopped dead in his track, squinting forward, putting a hand out in front of Narinder since he was directly in front of the cat.

“...What is…?” Heket murmured, grabbing Leshy by the scruff of his neck.

“Looks like a pole.” Kallamar hummed, unamused

Lambert walked forward, out of the shade of the tree’s examining the pole,

The only thing ahead of them was the ocean, standing on a large cliff with death beneath them.

“...huh…” Narinder raised a brow, peaking over the cliff, grabbing what remained of a rope, knots tied in it with pieces of wood hanging off,

the rope itself was coated in a patchy blue substance, worn away with time.

“...How are we supposed to cross that?” Lambert wondered aloud,

Shamura hummed, “Unsure…” Placing their hand on the side of the remaining pole

A chorus sang aloud, the winds howling along

“Everyone step back!” Lambert spoke, pushing everyone back, running back into the shaded safety of the trees as a blue light shone through, expanding and twisting into a large swirling sphere,

a large stick came through from the otherside,

“Everyone grab on!” shouted a familiar voice,

Lambert grabbed on to the stick, reaching out for the bishops as they all practically formed a rope, hands held as the stick dragged them through the portal

they all landed on the cold hard ground with an “OOMPH!”

Lamb shook his head from side to side, helping everyone pick themselves up

Kidd stood up, laughing at the group as he dusted himself off

“Told ya I’d meet y’all on the other side.” Kidd smiled,

Lambert looked behind himself, the waves crashing below, that same broken bridge… just this time marked in red, the sun setting off in the distance.”

“...Huh.” Narinder spoke, wiping the dirt and dust off of his white robes.

“I don't think I’ve seen a place like this before…?” Shamura hummed, looking around.

Kidd climbed on top of the pole, “Welcome one and all to The Holy Isle!” They spoke, waving their hands outward, their crown nowhere to be seen.

“Wait… where's your crown?” Lambert pointed to Kidd’s baren head.

“Oooh, I had to leave it with Madame, which is also why I could only meet you guys halfway.”

“Oh? Wait how does you only meeting us halfway have to-” Lambert spoke as Kidd just groaned, bending forward,

to the shock of the other’s, his torso slid from off of his spine, different organs hanging out of the holes between his body.

“That is why.” Kid coughed, using his hands to stand up as his lower half jumped off the pole, bending over to pick the rest of him back up.

“Let me just make sure everything is in order-” Kidd spoke, Kallamar just gagged,

“Yup, all goo- is he okay?” Kidd asked, pointing as Kallamar just ran off,

“...He gets sick easily.” Lamb shrugged,

“You should totally do that again when he comes back.” Narinder grinned,

“...Sometimes I remember there is something seriously wrong with you.” Kidd huffed, looking at Narinder.

Before anyone could say a thing, giggles rang out from every direction, Kallamar walking back to the group by now,

Kidd just groaned, a blade hurled towards him as he ducked, instead catching it’s way through the Lamb’s neck, head falling off cleanly as the giggles quickly stopped,

“Ooooh, She’s gonna be mad at you~” Kidd giggled, picking up Lambert’s head and putting it back on his shoulders,

Lambert mumbled a thank you as Kidd stared off into the dark woods, two pairs of eyes gleaming between the shadows of leaves.

“You need to work on your aim.” Narinder spoke bluntly, Lambert just scoffed.

“Brother, promise not to tell!” One of the voices called out, soft like the grass beneath everyone’s feet.

Kidd just groaned, “Both of you, out here now.” speaking in a serious tone.

Two figures jumped out of the trees, kits barely smaller than the lamb that stood in front of them,

One had a flower for an eye, a white and blue robe,

The other only had a large scar in place of their eye, wearing a black and blue robe instead

“Lambert and co. meet Maria and Olavi.” Kidd spoke, “Maria is the one in the white, Olavi in the black.” Kidd huffed,

Lambert waved at the two, Maria just smiled, waving back as Olavi scoffed at the lamb.

“Hm…” Narinder hummed, raising a brow at the duo, a familiar sense in his mind.

“You two, I will promise not to tell Madame what you did, under two conditions.” Kidd spoke, bending to the two’s height as best he could.

“Yes sir!”

“Fine.” the duo chimed

“Don't tell her I brought friends here, and two, take us to The Feaster.” Kidd hummed, standing up straight.

“Deal!” Maria shook on it without another word, causing her sister to just look at her like the idiot she was.

“Who’s… The Feaster?” Heket asked,

“Madame’s youngest sibling, the one who will be most likely able to get all of us in a room together.” Kidd spoke, motioning for everyone to follow after the twin kits.

“He’s also the best cook!” Maria hummed, remembering a meal of old times,

“As well as the stupidest.” Olavi mumbled, “His temple is not far from here.”

The wind was cold, blowing against the grass and trees,

Everything felt so… familiar, yet so different at the same time.

The wet, muddy dirt squashed beneath the groups feet, Narinder held up his robe as not to stain it, the others following suit, except Leshy, he didn't seem to care much

rain began to patter down upon the group, everyone basically running through the mud and rain, Kallamar grabbing Leshy’s hand so he wouldn't be left behind.

What felt like hours passed of running through before a soft golden light could be seen in the distance, fire.

“Come! we are not far!” Maria spoke, running off into the distance with her sister

They eventually caught up to the small kits, who of which knocked on the large stone doors of the temple, deep blue tapestries hanging from the windows, flowing against the storm,

Footsteps approached the door, a deep chuckle responding to conversation.

“Who disturbs?” Spoke the deep voice, the door wide open,

A large toad, the size of a god stood before the group,

“Ah! Sister’s messengers! Come in, come in!” Spoke the toad,

“Actually- Maria and I shall be making our leave.” Olavi spoke, grabbing her sister by the hood,

“Can't even stay for a snack?” The toad rose a brow, the three pointed crown atop his head mimicking the expression,

“No sir…” Maria sighed, “She is expecting us home I believe.”

“Ah… well tell her I said hello!” The toad croaked, motioning for the others to come inside.

“Ahh… so warm.” Leshy murmured,

The toad closed the door behind them, walking into a seperate room, “Come on guys.” Kidd spoke, signaling for them all to follow the toad.

Heket just hummed, amused by the large toad’s hospitality.

“Now, Sister’s messenger, why are thoust here?” Spoke the toad, eyeballing the lamb with curiosity, “Why haven't this one been brought to Sister’s Haven?” He spoke, raising a brow and pointing to Lambert,

Kidd bowed to the large toad,

“Great Feaster, we wish to hold a feast.” Kidd hummed, the toad just chuckled, “For why little goat?”

“To settle a holy feud.” Kidd admitted, a nervous look on their face.

The toad just laughed, “Truly that?” They smirked, “A cruel fate for you friend.” He stood, “I will inform her of your foolishness.”

Lambert sighed, clearing his throat, “Dearest feaster!” Lambert spoke up, the toad raising a brow to the small creature, “Mortal Lamb… cease this noise.” The toad rolled his eyes.

“I am no mortal.” Lambert spoke, voice blunt as the Toad raised a brow,

“A god divine such as yourself should recognize a crown when seen, should they not?” Lambert spoke, narrowing their eyes as the Toad gasped,

“...The red crown!?” They pointed, “Truly they are gone… aren't they?” He sighed, looking at the small lamb before him, silence filled the room louder than words

“...what of Bishop Heket?” He asked bluntly, a simple question.

“Hm?” Lamber raised a brow, “What of her is important to you?”

The toad sighed, crouching before the table the group stood on,

“She an olden friend of mine, too long since we shared a good wine.” He spoke,

Heket just coughed softly, tapping her foot against the flooring as Lambert and Kidd shared a glance,

Lambert looked to Heket, nodding to her as the toad raised a brow,

Heket stepped forward, standing beside the two, removing her hood slowly before looking up to the large toad, his eyes wide as he stared.

Heket coughed slightly, her voice hoarse, “Hello…. Barley….”

Barley squealed like an excited pig, staring at his friend once more,

“Truly that isn't you?!” He smiled, “You are but the size of a baby now!” Heket just laughed at his words.

“Rest of ye, remove thy hoods, I believe to know whomst the rest are!” Barley shouted, his eyes twinkling with anticipation as the rest removed their hoods, Narinder letting out a small hiss at the sight of how bright the room was.

“The old faith!” He squealed once more, “Child you little liar!” Barley spoke in a playful tone, “They are not dead! they are in front of mine eyes!”

“We… ahem.” Heket coughed, Barley raised a brow,

“Hold, allow me to get a refreshment.” Barley ran off, cape flowing behind him.

“Drinking buddies eh?” Narinder chuckled, Heket just nodded,

“Good wine…. good friend…”

“I wasn't expecting this lot to still be around…” Narinder hummed, a smile on his face that Lamb pointed at,

“Oooh! someone's happy!” He joked, Narinder scoffed,

Barley returned, holding a glass of red wine in hand, handing it to Heket,

“Thank thy sister Eltha for the gift, should fix thy cough up for a while.” Barley spoke,

Heket chugged the whole cup, coughing slightly as she took a deep breath.

“Bleugh…. tastes like syrup.” She mumbled, the others shocked, herself included, grasping her mouth in surprise.

“Well- about that feast…” Heket hummed, looking up to Barley.

“Ooh! Yes oh yes!” He clapped like an excited child, “A dinner with friends!” He smiled.

“You all, Ethla and I!”

Kidd just sighed, “Great Feaster, all of you must be present.”

“Oh…” Barley huffed, a frown on his face

“Will that be an issue?” Heket asked, raising a brow as she looked at the blue toad.

“Perhaps… see Eltha and I share no grievances with you lot…” Barley began, “Alora and Persephone… to say minimum wish to see your heads in my next stew.” He huffed,

“...and what of life?” Narinder asked, raising a brow,

“She… has nay been seen since that day, by me at least.” Barley hummed, a soft look in his eyes,

“Since what day?” Shamura asked, Narinder frowned, a confused look in his eyes as well

“The day deemed as ‘The day Death no longer wished to wait’.” Kidd spoke, glaring at Narinder,

Everyone fell silent as Barley nodded, wiping his eyes, “Only the infant messenger appears now…” He spoke, motioning to Kidd, getting a shocked expression out of Narinder

Heket just glared at her brother, “How many lives did you ruin that day brother?” She hummed,

Narinder just growled, turning his gaze to his sister, clenching his fists as he stared at Heket,

"I KNOW I DID NOT DO ANYTHING TO HER!" Narinder shouted, thrusting his arms out to the side, scaring everyone just a tad

Heket just rolled her eyes, “Sure.” She mumbled,

Narinder went to argue, Lambert just silenced him with a snap of his fingers.

“The two of you, now is not the time.” Lambert sighed, looking up to Barley, “Feaster, would it be possible to have a feast at her temple?” Lambert hummed,

Barley thought about it for a moment, “Come.” He spoke, motioning for them all to follow

They all walked into a large room, a brazier in the middle, “Find somewhere to sit.”

Barley stood opposite to the group, the brazier in front of him and in between him and the others.

“She who guides the lost, brings light to the dark and creation owes her their lives, speak to me dear sister.” He chanted softly, the brazier lighting a teal flame, slowly shaping into the figure of a cat… similar to that of Narinder.

“Dear sister!” Barley spoke, excitement in his voice, “it is good to speak to you yet again!”

“What do you want?” She spoke, her voice uncaring and uninterested in the small talk.

“I was wondering… mayhaps we could have a feast in your tem-”

“No.” The ethereal voice spoke, “I care not for such… silly things anymore, I thought you got that through your ever thickening skull?” the head of the teal flame tilted, Narinder raised a brow, mumbling to himself

“Ah-! but- Sister dear!” Barley spoke, coughing slightly, “The vessel of the red crown wishes to speak with you, in person!”

“You DARE suggest I allow a heretic of the old faith into my home?!” The voice from the flame shouted,

“No- No!” Barley sighed, “He is but a wee lamb! A friend of your messenger!”

There was silence, not a word.

the head of the flame seemingly looking off to the side as a loud sigh rang through the room,

“and she called me stupid for believing a silly prophecy…” The voice on the other end laughed,

“Bring me the lamb, I have been waiting for a conversation with his vessel.”

“Yes sister.” Barley spoke, grabbing a stool for the lamb so he could reach the brazier,

The lamb took a deep breath, stepping up to the brazier, all hope in his heart sinking as the flame merely laughed at him,

“Truly? You are the sacrificial lamb turned infant god?” The flame smiled, “Why is it you wish to speak with life herself.”

Lambert took a deep breath, “I wish to settle this feud between The Holy Isle and The Old Faith.”

The flame just laughed at him, “Ohoho! Ohhh boy… That just made my day!” She laughed, Lambert frowning,

“Tell me child, was this your idea or Kidd’s?” She hummed, the figure’s head tilting once more,

“Both of ours.” Lambert spoke truthfully, hands held behind their back.

“You knew him, did you not?” The figure shifted slightly, closer to the lamb now, Lambert raised a brow, confused,

“...Who?” Lambert asked, tilting his head slightly,

“The original bearer of that crown you now wear upon your brow, How are they?”

“Uh…” Lambert mumbled, glancing to Narinder

“I was told he had died, by your hand none the less… if you can prove otherwise, I will consider your sweet little settlement.” She spoke, voice echoing through the room,

“DEAL!” Lambert spoke, holding a hand to the fire before quickly withdrawing it, “Whoops… can’t exactly shake hands with fire…” Lambert chuckled nervously, getting a laugh out of the flames, “Child… stand back a bit.” She spoke

Lambert scooted the stool back a few inches, watching as a hand made of ivory colored bones reached out, getting a gasp out of almost everyone in the room,

“Let’s shake on it.”

[starlightwayfinder]

*Shuffles in quietly* I would like to offer more sad ideas about the Union Leaders.

With the upcoming Missing Link game my head is full of brainrot (heh) and I'm just . . . so sad for our resident goth cowboy so if you'll allow me.

Brain never forgives himself for what he sees as failing all his friends. He promised to save them and in the end they all get separated, he has no idea what happens to 4 of them but poor Ephemer was forced to rebuild keyblade society alone. Brain was his right hand man and he failed his leader. None the less he's determined to get more work done to lighten the load for future generations.

While Brain struggles to move on in life he does manage to find some semblance of normalcy and sees his lost friends all around him. He see Ephemer in the stone and bricks in Scala's foundation, sees him in the streetlights and in the pretty silver haired girl that is his descendent. Marrying her is one of the few bright spots of his current predicament and sometimes Brain swears late at night he can hear his old friends laugh.

Brain feels Lauriam's strong but gentle presence every morning at the start of dawn, when the world is still awash in dark but the light slowly creeps in promising the start to a new day. Brain also never forgives himself for not helping Lauriam more with finding his sister. He hopes he found her and they're finally together.

He sees Skuld in all the new keyblade wielders trying to find their place in the world. Skuld was in many ways the peacekeeper of their group and she always had their wellbeing in mind just as much as the dandelions. Brain didn't realize how much he relied on her strength until she wasn't there, those early days grappling with likely never seeing her again were some of the hardest.

And lastly Brain sees Ven in his beloved grandson. The two are so similar, sweet little boys full of kindness and earnest, it almost hurts to look at him some days. There was the one time the wind picked up his hat and Eraqus was able to reclaim it he brought the hat back and he smiled in such a ventus way Brain nearly fell to his knees. But before Eraqus could worry too much Brain grabbed the hat and placed it on his head but pulled it down enough to cover the little boy's eyes just like he did to ven, even their giggles sound the same. And at night when he kisses his grandson goodnight and says I love you, he's silently hoping against hope his words reach ventus across time and hopes above all else he's alive and safe.

It's many years later when Eraqus meets Ven that he feels a strange sense of familiarity. He remembers his grandfather's stories of his lost friends and how he reminded him of the youngest. So full of light and gentle as the wind he gets the strangest feeling if his grandfather were here he and ven would get along quite well. He's not sure if he can live up to his grandfather but he'll still try if only to relieve the poor man's pain even at the end of his life.

And yet Eraqus knows just like Brain before him he ultimately failed

*motioning for you to sit by the fire*

You’re always welcome to share your sad ideas here Anon. 

Brain must have so many feelings about his lost friends.. I can definitely imagine Brain wishing he could’ve been there to help build Scala with Ephemer. He’s so proud of his friend, but it still hurts knowing Eph did so much on his own.

And of course he’d regret not having the time to help Lauriam find Strelitzia. Or to help any of the other lost Dandelions, for that matter. 

Mhm, Skuld was a great peacekeeper/mediator within the Union leaders. And it’s so uncertain what happened to her… I’m sure Brain worries that he failed to help her survive.

That part about Eraqus and Ven… You’re going to make me cry! I love imagining Eraqus spending time with his grandfather… but his playful personality is so similar to Ven’s, no wonder it would bring back memories.. And the idea of Brain telling Eraqus stories about them…! 💔

[aquadestinyswriting]

Fight or Flight

Summary: Having lost one battle already, Meredith and friends are being transported back to Toreguarde. Unfortunately one member of the opposition sees fit to make sure they never make it back

Words: 775

Tags: @druidx, @sparrow-orion-writes , @homesteadchronicles, @warriorbookworm, @mariahwritesstuff, @writeblrsupport, @ashirisu, @thesorcerersapprentice, @blind-the-winds, @philosophika, @the-down-upside-finch @flashfictionfridayofficial

Warnings: bodily harm tw, fire tw, character death tw

Notes: First person POV. Based on one of the very early sessions of the campaign.

I grumble as I look out of the window of the carriage we’re trundling back to Toreguarde in. As much as I wanted to go back to drag Elowyn out of the cell she’s put herself in –bloody stupid woman. I shouldn’t have let her go on that ‘restroom break’ by herself – I really didn’t want to be chucked in with her. At least we’re, mostly, alive. Though I have no idea what I’m going to tell Elowyn once we’re thrown in alongside her. It doesn’t exactly inspire much confidence in our ability to bust back out again given how easily we were forced to surrender.

Moradin’s balls, the manacles on my wrists are too tight. I grumble some more and open my mouth to complain at the road warden trotting alongside, when I feel the window on the opposite side slide open. The face of our betrayer pops into view, his expression dark. 

“You made your choice.” He mutters before shattering the lit lantern closest to the window, causing the embers to catch the upholstery. So that’s how the little bastard wants to play it, is it? 

Luckily the roadwardens seem to be of the opinion that the carriage being on fire is a problem since we immediately stop and calls go out for water. I cough as I watch Alponse shoulder the door in an attempt to get it open, but it doesn’t budge. I get up to assist, trying not to hack up my lungs as smoke fills the interior of the carriage. 

Flames erupt all around us with an angry roar. I feel a brief dampness on my back seconds before the fire catches onto my vestments and hair. I only barely catch an angry voice exclaiming something over the alarmed shouts and screams of my friends before I’m sent tumbling out of the suddenly open carriage door.

I roll in the damp grass, grateful that it wasn’t bone dry. Luckily, there’s enough moisture to put out the fire on my vestments before I can get too badly burned. I struggle to sit, just in time to see Stringwhiskers – the little ratman that had been following our group these last few weeks– crawl forward a few inches only to stop and lie utterly still. I freeze, my laboured breath catching in my throat. I gingerly lift the sleeve of my vestment to my nose. Lamp oil. 

That traitorous, lying, fespar, saagy, Beskur! I feel a surge of righteous fury build in my chest, but it starts to gutter as I look over to Lorcian. The half elf looks so broken as he gently picks up Stringwhisker’s body. He’s also fairly burnt himself. Perhaps fighting our way out of this isn’t the best idea? We’re outnumbered and I have no idea if the roadwardens are even in on what Daraja had planned.  Not to mention the fact that we had tried fighting earlier and lost. Badly. 

I make to stand only to tumble back to the floor, a searing pain flaring in my side as a crossbow bolt punches into my hip. Panic grips me and I do the only thing I can think of through the pain and roll to my knees and pray as hard as I can.

Moradin. Help me!

I feel a large surge of power move through the magical weave of the world, then hear a raspy cough and a groan. Hang on. I know that groan. I jerk up my head just in time to see the previously deceased, hulking form of Enezeage stir and sit up. The last vestiges of a golden radiance dimming as he comes back to the world of the living. I hear a second gasp not too far away and look over in time to see Alphonse stir and groggily sit up as well. I wait a moment, expecting to hear a third, only to be met with silence. My heart drops slightly, but I’m not about to complain. It’s miracle enough that Moradin saw fit to return Enezeage and, presumably, Alphonse to us. I look back to Enezeage, who’s already charging towards Daraja and the rangers he’d bought out to deal with us. I catch a glimpse of the back of a huge, stout figure clad in armour. My eyes go wide as the image of Moradin himself looks back at me and winks, before vanishing.

I don’t have time to truly process what just happened. More arrows and crossbow bolts fly in my direction, and several find their mark. Alright, so fight it is. As soon as I can wrangle my hands free to cast a bloody healing spell.

[randomvarious]

Today’s compilation:

Stand Up and Be Counted: Soul, Funk and Jazz from a Revolutionary Era 1999 Funk / Soul / Spoken-Word Poetry / Jazz

Today's an important history lesson, folks. I went back to a late 60s/early 70s era of US black revolutionary politics and awareness with this CD that was put out by UK label Harmless in '99. It's those pre-disco days when a lot of black-made music was politically righteous, with scathing lyrical critiques of a still racially unequal status quo, and carried poignant, urgent, and inspirational messages that would help to raise the consciousness among black folks nationwide, as well as anyone else who was willing to listen and learn. It was a time of riotous and fiery tumult, and while this release doesn't seem to fully encapsulate or present all the most prominent songs and musicians that ended up providing the soundtrack for this very volatile handful of pivotal years—where's Sly Stone?—it's still a phenomenal album.

This CD comes with fixtures you'd expect on a release like this: James Brown's "Say It Loud - I'm Black and I'm Proud," Nina Simone's "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free," and perhaps the most iconic piece of spoken-word poetry that's ever been recorded, Gil Scott-Heron's "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised." Basically, if you're putting together an album that's trying to reflect the American black struggle from this specific time period, it'd be prudent to include this particular trio of songs.

But where this album truly shines is with its overwhelming majority of selections that aren't so obvious; songs that contain the same hunger and zeal for equality, but aren't as well known to a general audience. For example, The Last Poets, a spoken-word poetry trio whose early 70s pining for immediate revolution on their self-titled debut album would lay the foundation for the creation, development, and emergence of hip hop music and culture. Their song, "When the Revolution Comes," actually sparked a response from Gil Scott-Heron with "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," and 22 years after its initial release, a repeated line towards the end of the song would find itself repurposed as the title of The Notorious B.I.G.'s debut single, "Party and Bullshit."

And also on here is a solo track from one of those Last Poets as well, Gylan Kain, whose 1970 song, "Loose Here," off of his debut LP, The Blue Guerrilla, was actually co-written by none other than the legend Nile Rodgers himself, earning him one of his first ever credits, long before he'd *really* break out with a pair of #1s on the disco tip in '78 and '79, with Chic's "Le Freak" and then "Good Times."

Truth be told, though, The Last Poets weren't actually as obscure as you may think that I might be making them out to be here; their debut album managed to sell over 350,000 copies, and it peaked at #29 on Billboard's 200 album chart, and #3 on R&B as well. It's just that, knowing about them was spread pretty much purely through word of mouth; there was certainly no big commercial engine that was driving their sales, and if you weren't black and didn't have your ears tuned to any of this sound, the likelihood that you'd catch wind of them was pretty low.

So, the most obscure song on this album, then, appears to be a funk tune from an anonymous group called The Pace-Setters, whose only ever release, a 1971 7-inch, sings the praises of social activist Jesse Jackson and his then-recently formed PUSH organization on its chugging a-side.

The rest of this CD's tunes are pretty much made up of brilliant funk, soul, and jazz entities—The Impressions, Billy Paul, Archie Shepp, and ex-Temptation Eddie Kendricks—but the album doesn't use any of their singles. All the choices are still terrific, however, especially Kendricks' "My People... Hold On," the slow, earthy, heartfelt, and mantric title track off of his 1972 sophomore album. Interestingly, the name of that album, though, actually chops off the "My" in "My People," suggesting that Motown imprint Tamla didn't want to potentially alienate any parts of its audience with such a transparent appeal to black pride and solidarity 🤔.

Another well-known group on this album is James Brown's former one, The Famous Flames, who are just credited as The Flames here. And as The Flames, they never released an album, but did put out a handful of singles, including this CD's title track, which lives up to the name of the group who made it (it's scorching!), and was produced by James Brown and released on his own label, People, in 1971.

And before I close out, I gotta mention Chicago jazz ensemble The Pharaohs too, because the penultimate track from their 1971 debut album, The Awakening, makes for a tremendous song, with astonishing traded leads between saxophone and guitar, and a constantly thick amount of busy backing behind it all as well. It would still be an amazing tune, even if it didn't have any kind of messaging to go along with it.

So, in sum, Stand Up and Be Counted is an incredible release. It really channels a very important few years of palpably churning American black fervor, and it includes some unforgettable all-timers too, but its real uniqueness is found in its many selections of non-singles, deep cuts, & relative obscurities. I really don't think you'll ever find another late 60s/early 70s black empowerment retrospective that's quite like this one here. A stunningly superb and authentic collection of tunes.

Highlights:

The Flames - "Stand Up and Be Counted" Gil Scott-Heron - "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" The Impressions - "Mighty Mighty (Spade and Whitey)" Billy Paul - "East" Mike James Kirkland - "Hang On in There" James Brown - "Say It Loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud, Parts 1 & 2" The Last Poets - "When the Revolution Comes" Pace-Setters - "Push on Jessie Jackson" Archie Shepp - "Blues for Brother George Jackson" Eddie Kendricks - "My People... Hold On" The Pharaohs - "Freedom Road" Kain - "Loose Here" Nina Simone - "I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free"

[aplaceforstellasscribbles]

WIP Introduction- Walk Against the Wind

Officially announcing my WIP novel Walk Against the Wind!

For those of you that have been around since 2018 (or earlier) this is actually the same story I've been working on since then. However, it has undergone extensive changes since I last posted about it. Hence, a new introduction post.

Setting

Time Period: Late 1800s, mid-Industrial Revolution. Most scenes in the "Present Day" take place in the late 1870s or early 1880s, but there are some "Past" scenes in the 1860s or earlier.

World: A secondary world very similar to Earth. I'm in the process of drawing a world map, which I may eventually post here. This is a realistic setting with no magic and mostly real-world period-appropriate technology.

Place: The majority of the story takes place in a city called Remmord, set in a valley which controls access to the Silvercape Peninsula on the west coast of the country. Two steep mountain ranges meet at the base of the peninsula, making it difficult to get to from the east. Remmord is one of the major cities of the kingdom of Themidis, a large country known mostly for its unfriendliness towards its neighbors and its large standing military.

Miscellaneous

Remmord and its surrounding region used to be a separate country (called Dalatras) from Themidis, which is a fact completely unknown to the majority of the populations of both Remmord and Themidis

Remmord's government is a dictatorship imposed on them by the Themidian king that was responsible for the absorption of Remmord. Succession of this position must happen through single unarmed fatal combat, by order of the king

Characters

Gilsen Sheridan: Main character, primary POV. He's in his mid-twenties, returning to his hometown after retiring early from his career in the Royal Guard (a blend of police and military). His family is one of the oldest families in Remmord, part of a group of people called the History Keepers that secretly record accurate history and folklore. When Gilsen was a child, he was separated from his family, and he's wanted nothing more than to return to them and help them continue their work of preserving Remmord's history. His name comes from an old Germanic word for "pledge." He's observant, intelligent, compassionate, tenacious, creative, and kind. He has a strong sense of justice and always tries to do the right thing. Like many people of Remmord, he's pale, has curly brown hair and brown eyes, and is tall (by America's standards-he's on the taller end of average for Remmord). He's aromantic and asexual, which will be a significant part of his story (in the lack of a romantic subplot, and also in the importance of his platonic relationships).

Amalia Glenfield: The other main character with a POV. I'm aiming for giving her a roughly equal amount of screentime with Gilsen, but she may end up getting a little less, depending on how things work out. She's the daughter of the Consul of Remmord, which resulted in a sheltered and lonely childhood. Growing up wealthy also gave her certain worldviews that she spends her early adulthood trying to unlearn. She and Gilsen have been friends since early childhood. In the process of trying to expand her understanding of the world, she comes to realize that many things about Remmord are deeply flawed, and she decides to try to change them, mostly through a "tear it all down and rebuild a better version" mindset, fueled by resentment of her father. She blames him directly for most of Remmord's problems, and is convinced that removing him from power is the only way to fix anything. Her name means "unceasing, vigorous, brave." She's impulsive, strong-willed, dedicated, and loyal. She feels intense righteous anger over the state of her city. She also struggles to see the forest for the trees, getting a little lost in the small things. She's pale, with brown hair and green eyes, and is on the shorter end of average height. She's also aromantic and asexual, which will also be a significant part of her story.

Ryan Glenfield: The Consul of Remmord, a position he gained as a teenager when his (also teenage) brother abandoned it. He begins his rule with the best of intentions, but naivete, ignorance, and years of bad advice mean that his actions aren't always good for all of Remmord. His people largely see him as someone who's better than his predecessor, but who does make plenty of bad decisions they disagree with. He's too separated from his people to really realize the full effect of his policies on their daily lives, so he thinks he's doing a great job. He wants to do the right thing, but often doesn't know what that would be. He tried to be a good parent to Amalia, and doesn't really understand why she's so distant as an adult. He's stubborn and thinks he always knows best, but he's also willing to learn if someone shows him he's wrong. I haven't settled on an appearance for him just yet.

Henry Glenfield: Ryan's older brother. He couldn't handle the responsibility of being Consul when he earned the position as a teenager, so he abandoned his post to travel the country. He returns to Remmord after several years to find out that Ryan has taken his post and doesn't really want to give it back. By the time the story begins, he's spent years regretting his choice, believing that Ryan isn't the ruler that the city needs. Outwardly, he's supportive of his brother, but he wishes there was a way for him to make things better without opposing Ryan. He takes in Gilsen when he's separated from his parents, believing it to be his fault that Gilsen's parents are gone. When Amalia and Gilsen come to him with concrete ideas for how to help Remmord in a way that doesn't pit him against Ryan, he's all ears and eager to help. I haven't settled on an appearance for him either.

Plot

When Gilsen is a child, Remmord's most culturally significant holiday is outlawed, leading to protests that result in the arrest of Gilsen's parents. He comes back to his family as an adult ready to hear their plans for how they're going to restore the holiday now that so many years have passed, only to be told that the family has no such plans. He decides that he'll just have to try without them, and begins strategizing for that. Meanwhile, Amalia is also seeking ways to undo many of her father's decisions, so the two scheme together. Amalia attempts to convince Gilsen to challenge her father, but he refuses. She then attempts to convince Henry, but he won't kill his brother. Gilsen thinks that there's another way to achieve their goals: by simply educating Ryan and appealing to his need to do the right thing. With Henry's encouragement, Gilsen exposes the lies Ryan has been taught. When he sees the truth, Ryan is distraught, and agrees that many of his laws should be overturned and that the dictatorship should be abolished. The four of them work with each other and their people to set up a democratic government. Henry is elected as the new leader. He and his council decide that one of the first things they should do is bring back the banned holiday. There's still a lot of work left to do, but it's a good beginning, and for the first time in years the four are hopeful for their future.

[hannahstocks]

I’m swimming towards a sandbar, wondering when it will end. Stroking through jelly fish, getting tangled in seaweed and having to empty my googles repeatedly, I wondered ‘how would I feel if I just got out, stopped swimming and got out?’

If there was ever the time to be adaptable, today was the day.

5am alarm. Canvas above our heads with a sky full of stars above that. Small pockets of light darting from each tent, silhouettes inside glowing red as the early risers began their morning routines. I ate porridge with tepid water whilst willing my morning poo to arrive. Walking out of the campsite, the sun was beginning to climb, an orange strip on the horizon. 

The streets still sleepy as we walked to the starting line.

The wind felt strong and cold as it blew on the surface of the water, looking out felt ominous.

I felt a mixture of nerves and excitement, anticipation for what the day would hold.  

I’d felt a dip in my energy levels the day before and it had been playing on my mind whether it would effect the swims.

We gathered round, half dressed in our wetsuits, half not; whispers circulating about the state of the jelly fish, the words ‘as thick as soup’ weren’t encouraging.

There had been talk the day before at our initiation swim to be responsive to the ever changing conditions, this challenge due to its location was notorious for not quite being ‘what it says on the tin’.

The safety boats arrived back on the beach and as we huddled around it was confirmed that swimming through the ‘soup of jelly fish’ would not be advised and that we would start at the finish line, flipping the route.

We walked in rolled down wetsuits and robes. The sun shone.  The sweat followed closely after.  Watching fellow swimmers pealing layers off simultaneously as I did the same. 

I walked beside a man and our conversation flowed easily, from pleasantries at first before finding our way onto the subject of fear, it felt very poignant and mapped out. Something we all struggle with but don’t talk about. He would go on to tell me about leaving his profession as a lawyer to write a book and facilitate workshops on the subject matter.  It felt really quite profound and it stayed with me.  As we naturally drifted away from each other, it was also a realisation of the beauty of a moment in time, having no obligation for nothing more or anything less.  Dipping out and not seeing him again with nothing lost, just a gain, and a new book to add to my wish list.

After about 45 minutes we opened out onto a beach on the other side of St Marys, at the end of the route, but right at the beginning.

I felt the sun on my face as we started to get ready, handing our bags over to the boat crew ready for the first leg. A few days before I’d developed quite a deep gash at the back of my neck from my cap rubbing so made sure I had a thick layer of Vaseline on there.

Stood behind our coloured flag, matching the colour on our hats, we waited for instruction to go.  Clapping the red group, the ‘fast’ group, I’d landed at the start and it felt exciting.  Staring out across the body of water separating one island from another, knowing that nothing but my body and mind was going to get me across, filled me with fire.

The water felt cold but the clarity was mesmerising.  And after the initial tornado of bubbles and water turbulence from other swimmers, I found space and rhythm.

It wasn’t long before swimmers were getting stung by the jellyfish, it was inevitable and although I knew it was coming, the first sting took me by surprise, getting me right on my nose I felt like I’d fallen face first into stinging nettles. ‘You ok?’ One of the kayakers called. It stopped me in my tracks, pulling me out of my rhythm for a moment, ‘All good! Just got me right on my nose!’ 

They were everywhere.  Purple and beautiful and full of sting.  I think the kayakers probably found it quite amusing with all the little yelps within each pod.

I felt tightness in my chest and my body was cold.  Gazing down at the crystal clear grassy seabed was a welcomed distraction but as I got out on St Martins side and climbed the steps up to the jetty my whole body was shaking.  It was like my worst nightmare coming true and I felt slightly panicked.

Lauren had been on the supporters boat and met me with my bag.  She would continue to be the most encouraging support team a girl could ask for, telling me to ‘eat more’ or ‘drink more water’ or ‘remember your Vaseline!’  When the supporters boat was able to land, she’d be there waiting for me with the biggest smile and words of encouragement.  

As she huddled me inside a little waiting room, I was shivering, watching other swimmers walking by as I fumbled with my clothes. I needed the sun.  Some heat on my body.  The air was starting to warm up now.  We found where most were congregating, spilling out on the grass, wrapping up and refuelling their bodies.

I found a medic who took my temperature and gave me the thumbs up whilst handing me a heated bean bag. ‘Stick it under your armpit’ he said.  Instant heat.  I could have kissed him.

I would go on to carry that little bundle of heat, wrapping my fingers round it in my pocket for the rest of the day.

Luckily for me and anyone else who was feeling the cold, the next swim was a little walk away, giving our bodies the chance to warm up. As we walked we talked and our conversation drifted away from the cold and into our childhood rebellious acts, all very tame but input from fellow swimmers and stories of their adolescence was welcomed as we shared and laughed, walking along pathways on new islands leading to the next leg of the swim.

There was a real sense of excitement for this one, St Martins to Tresco; the clarity of the water, the life below the sea, the pulling tide and the sea stacks.  I’d wear wetsuit socks and double my hats this time and for each swim moving forward. There were so many people swimming in skins.  

A conversation with a skins swimmer the day before revealed she’d recently swam the English Channel in just her swimming costume and with no food just some nutritional powder substitute.  I was in awe of her whilst thinking ‘what’s wrong with this girl?!’ This filled my thoughts through my swims and I was determined the cold would not beat me, if she can swim the English Channel in nothing but her skin, I can do this.

I’d borrowed a thermal vest, socks and hat from a good friend Katy before leaving; she’d recently cycled around the coast of the UK for suicide awareness and mental health.  A lot of it completed by herself; the emotional endeavour, the logistics and the physical power, a huge accomplishment, I felt so inspired by it.  

Even though this challenge was small in the grand scheme of things, to me, it felt big and I carried a lot of people and their encouragement along for the ride, and whilst queueing on the jetty in the sunshine, I felt a real sense of gratitude to be there.

The buzz spread through the swimmers.  Hooting and clapping the red caps as they began to swim, noticing they were hardly moving initially, battling with the tide.  We followed shortly after, a swarm of orange hats crashing through the water until a formation was developed, green hats to follow after us, a traffic light system.  Kayakers both sides of each pod, at the front and behind, safety boats on the outside of them.  A lead kayaker up the front with a flag on a long pole which guided us.  Stopping if the pack separated too much; we’d float on tow floats catching our breath, sharing smiles and encouragement.

Breathing to my right side with a craggy rock stack in view with each breath and the most crystal clear water below.  The water clarity had been said it was the best it’s been in a while. The jelly fish were less prominent on this leg and the sand, the whitest to be washed up onto on the other side. Everyone was smiling the biggest smiles and the energy was contagious. 

It was so interesting, the in-between moments, watching everyones routines on dry land, in between swims; what their body language was saying; wondering what motivated everyone to be there; how their energy changed throughout the day.  I thought about what I must look like to everyone else.

At each point a decision was being made by the organisers behind the scenes, murmurs to follow, people making their own assumptions of what the day would hold.  Waiting to swim to Bryer, a few of us sat on the beach in the warmth of the sunshine whilst wondering why everyone else was sat on a shady boat ramp next to us; my thoughts echoed by a fellow swimmer beside me,  he would continue to make me laugh with his dry sense of humour and unassuming nature,  as we waited to be called to the water; the person that doesn’t really need to say much, but has the best timing and execution.  We’d all feed into each others conversations and the energy was open and welcomed. A sense of comfort and camaraderie felt.

The swim from Tresco to Bryer was the shortest but felt longer than I’d expected it to. 

From the spectators boat, the view of us swimming and the route that we were taking was so much clearer.  Lauren would tell me after different swims how much we were snaking or taking it wide, the kayakers so safety conscious with tide and jelly fish and long meandering kelp forests that sometimes our distances would increase because of this.

My arms felt tired waiting on the beach on Bryer. Waiting for a decision to be made of what would come next.  Anticipating the long swim past Sampson and onto St Agnes and a feeling of disappointment when the call was made that we wouldn’t be completing the longest leg; Instead we’d swim to Sampson, stop on the sand bar to re group and then make up most of the distance by swimming back to a different part of Tresco. 

I felt tired.  Something had crept in and stolen my energy and as we left Bryer my fire was dwindling.  For the first time that day my goggles started leaking, I had to stop so many times to empty them. 

‘Do you need another pair, I might have a spare!’ 

The lovely kayaker next to me called out.  

I’d struggle on, making do with a little droplet rolling into my eye each time I turned my head to breath.

I’d fallen right to the back of the pod and although it wasn’t a race or about winning, I really didn’t want to be there, it was telling.

Zig zagging, getting tangled up in seaweed, unsuccessfully dodging jelly fish and feeling the sting, the weight of my body and each arm stroke felt heavier, heavy in my body and in my mind, loosing rhythm with my breath and feeling the cold in my bones; I wanted to get out. 

I found myself in a place I didn’t want to be, but exactly why I’d signed up for the challenge in the first place, to find the ‘wall’ and ‘get over it’.

It was the longest 2.5km, feeling like it would never end as we finally reached the sandbar on Sampson, I felt deflated and really cold.  I’d spent most of it thinking about whether or not I could just get out, jump on the spectators boat and watch on from afar, I was done.

I had fruit pastels tucked into in my tow float for a little sugar hit but wouldn’t need them; we all got handed three jelly babies by one of the organisers as we stumbled onto the island.  It was late afternoon by this time and I remember the light, afternoon sun glowing warm, a tight, salty, windswept feeling across my face; being on the island felt like we’d been deserted, if only for a short while. There was a distinct feeling of magic amongst the lethargy.

The latter seemed to be shared on the shoreline, myself and three others wading into the water.  

’I really need a fist pump’ the girl wading next to me said.  

She made contact with the guy next to her and then we were all fist pumping.  

I felt so appreciative of that girl, I really needed that encouragement but couldn’t find my voice to ask for it. We all swam together for sometime on that leg.  

I couldn’t tell if it was the sugar or the natural high from human connection but I went from ‘hitting a brick wall’ to euphoria.  The breath in my chest felt expansive and the joy of swimming returned.  I was still cold and tired but became aware of the moment and how beautiful and fleeting this time was. A feeling of pure gratitude with each stroke.

The sunlight was hitting the water, shimmering crystals dancing on the surface.  The jelly fish were mesmerising as they drifted towards us and away from us.

We walked upon the shore, back on Tresco and found our bags on the jetty, waiting again for a decision on what would come next.  Bodies sprawled out on verges of grass. Catching snippets of conversations, sharing smiles and knowing looks.  I watched a girl in a medical hyperthermia blanket and wondered how inappropriate it would be to ask if I could snuggle in.  

The very tail of summer, the sun losing its heat to Autumn.  I ate salt and vinegar crisps and drank my last dregs of tea.  The bag broken by this stage, tea leaves floating. 

Information started to trickle from the organisers through to the group of what would come next.

It was confirmed that we’d swim our last swim, from one point on Tresco to another and then travel back to St Marys by boat.

Disappointment and relief mixed together.  Disappointment that it was nearly over, but also a feeling of relief, I was tired, it had been a long day.

As we all left the congregation area with our bags and headed for a different part of Tresco I walked with one of the organisers, we talked while her walkie talkie began firing off with different voices and conversations, her tapping out of ours and into the conversation which concerned her with ease.

The event course was not what it was initially anticipated to be.  Unprecedented weather conditions and water clarity but also an unprecedented amount of jelly fish, blooming everywhere.  This would, in the end, dictate our fate.  Change the course and make the challenge slightly shorter. It would also make it a little more exciting, the unpredictability of it all.  

As uncertain as the day was, the calm and informative nature of the organisers was consistent.  It felt like we were all moving together in-sync to an unpredictable day.  We rode the uncertainty together.

As we stumbled out onto the beach for the last swim of the day, the light had reached its peak.  We were at the top of the mountain, albeit a small one, looking down.

Finding my own nook at the back of the beach, I got ready for the last time.  A shell caught my eye, a little memento which would later be turned into a beautiful pendant by a good friend.

There were a few people who had had enough, they wouldn’t take part in the last swim, they would watch, sitting in the sun on the spectators boat.  I made no judgements.  I was just so happy to be in a position to swim, to feel excited by it and energised by the thought of finishing.

I was one of the last to hand over their bags, the last of the days rituals coming to an end. I eked it out.  Checking in with my number 67.  Lining up behind our coloured flags.  Huddling together ready to enter the water, I wondered if the man with the gapping hole in his wetsuit had found any gaffer tape to fix it or if the man who had a deep gash on his chest from his beard rubbing had managed to carry on swimming in skins.  Wondering how badly people had been stung and how on earth people had swam the whole day without a wetsuit when I was almost hyperthermic after my first leg!  It was suddenly the end when the beginning had been such a long time coming.

I felt excited, charged by the beautiful light of the day, the feeling of satisfaction and gratitude for all that the experience had given me.  I tucked the shell into my tow float and for one last time joined the tornado of bubbles heading for the finish line. 

[rogersevans]

Blind Date

Summary: Wanda and Natasha are good roommates, for the most part. Always paid their half of the rent on time, sometimes even early, never ate your food without asking, made a good cup of coffee. Until they started meddling in your love life, setting you up on a blind date with their friend Steve on a rainy New York Sunday afternoon. 

Warnings: swearing, drinking, blind date anxiety, 

You hated blind dates, you hated first dates in general, but blind dates were the worst. The idea of not knowing who you were meeting or what they looked like always set your anxiety on edge. Not that you were shallow, you were far from it. But you were you terrified of making an idiot of yourself by speaking to the wrong person. Which is something you would definitely do. 

You also hated your roommates, they were the reason you were in this predicament. 

You had been happy keeping to yourself, going to work, coming home and repeat, you had weekends to do what you pleased with. Yes, at times it felt a little stale and lonely, but you liked your routine.

What didn’t you like? 

People disrupting that routine. 

“Going on one date won’t kill you.” Natasha chided from her sprawled out position on the couch in the living room, her right cheek smushed against a pillow. 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you watched the red head flick through the various channels, struggling to find something to watch. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, wo do.” Wanda chimed in from the kitchen, popping a chip into her mouth. “Steve is pussy cat, harmless, a gentleman... Lovely to look at.” Giving you a quick wink as she strolled back into the room, bag of chips in hand and flopping on to the smaller couch opposite you. 

Both acting as if it was a passing comment, knowing full well the date was already planned and all you had to do was pick something to wear and show up.

That’s how you found yourself sat in a local wine bar on a rainy Sunday New York afternoon, waiting for your date to turn up. You had gotten here early, to avoid any opportunity to embarrass yourself. Thumbing your way through your phone to distract yourself, stopping yourself from watching the door every time you heard it open. 

You didn’t know much about Steve, just that he worked with Nat and Wanda at Stark Industries and that he was very much like you, kept to himself and very stuck in his own routine.

A text from Wanda to your group chat caught your attention.

Wanda: You’ve got this. 

Natasha: Don’t give him everything on the first date!

Natasha: 👉🏻👌🏻🍆

Instantly regretting ever explaining to her how to use emojis inappropriately. 

Wanda: You’re not helping! 

Wanda: But she’s right, don’t do that. 

You: Is this supposed to be some kind of ‘pep talk’? 

You: Because you’re both shit at it. 

“Y/n?” You heard a soft, deep voice call you. Looking up from your phone you found a tall, handsome blonde with his short hair perfectly styled upwards, his piercing blue eyes watching you, leaving you speechless. Knocking the wind out of you. 

He was dressed in a black polo top, dark navy trousers, beige jacket draped over his arm and black shoes. The black polo accentuated his biceps perfectly, a little tight but still perfectly snug against them, his navy trousers showing off his thick thighs, making your mouth water at the sight. The smell of his cologne washed over you and it was heavenly, subtly taking over your senses.

Wanda lied to you, he wasn’t just lovely to look at, he was fucking perfect. 

“Have I just made an idiot of myself by approaching the wrong person?” He asked sheepishly when you didn’t respond. 

“N-no, I’m Y/n,” you quickly stuttered out. 

You watched him relax at your words, a warm smile finding its way to his lips and spreading across his face. He slid into the opposite side of the booth, resting his jacket on the seat next to him. “I’m Steve,” that damned smile.

The silence between you both was awkward at first, not knowing what to say to each other. 

“I hate blind dates, they make me incredibly nervous.” You blurted out, your mouth acting before your brain could catch up. 

“Thank god,” his whole body now slumped back against the cushion of the booth, a puff of air leaving his cheeks. “I don’t know why I agreed to it because they make me nervous to!” 

“Nat and Wanda refused to show me a picture of you, so I had no idea who I was looking for when I got here so... I’ve been here for about 40 minutes, wanting to avoid that awkward moment when you approach the wrong person.”

“That’s smart. That way they have to approach you. Nice.” He beamed at you, “in all honesty, they did show me a picture of you...” He trailed off but his smile never broke.

“That’s not fair!” Your mouth falling open in shock whilst smiling. “Wait, you asked me if you’d approached the wrong person.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to come across as creepy.” Both now laughing when the waiter approached you and took your orders. 

Steve was incredibly easy to talk to, he made you feel at ease whenever he smiled, it felt like you were talking to an old friend rather than a stranger. The conversation flowed between you both, never stopping. 

At the night progressed and the wine flowed between you both you felt your walls completely collapsing down, like he’d smashed right through them with one shift punch. Your heat race quickened whenever he intently listened to what you had to say, his eyes never leaving yours as you spoke. You had his full attention and that made you giddy, getting off on the high it gave you.

You didn’t have many people you could talk to, not much family except from a dad who would send you a card twice a year and a text once every two months just to ‘check in’. Wanda and Natasha would sit and listen to you on the few occasions you would open up, but they were your best friends, they didn’t have a choice. 

Steve’s company was becoming intoxicating to you.

“Still can’t believe you knew what I looked liked.”

“If I’m honest, that’s the only reason I agreed to the date,” he watched as your brows furrowed in confusion. “I almost told them to fuck off when they first brought it up, but then I saw your picture and there was something about you... I thought you were gorgeous, still do.” You watched as he fiddled with the napkin, his cheeks turning pink. “So, upon impulse I said yes, knowing I’d regret it if I didn’t.” 

You didn’t even try to hide the grin that was forming, your hand now holding his as you felt your whole body tingle at his words. 

“Now, I owe Bucky and Nat $20.” He grumbled, making you laugh, his thumb drawing circles on the back of your hand.

When you thought about it, like really thought about it, yours and Steve’s paths should’ve crossed a long time ago. Natasha and Wanda were your best friends and Bucky was Nat’s newest fling, he was always around, not that you minded. You liked Bucky, he worshiped Nat and it was nice to see. 

The walk home wasn’t a long one, but the pace you and Steve were walking it took almost 40 minutes, hands intertwined and conversation still flowing. Not wanting the date to end. 

You don’t remember when Steve grabbed your hand, but the feeling of his touch and him being so close was intoxicating, his perfumed scent relaxing you more into his touch.

As you approached the steps leading to your shared town house you couldn’t help but linger on the steps. Looking down at him a little as you stood a couple of steps up.

Your entire body jolted when his hands found your hips, his touch already leaving a warming sensation even through your clothes. His gaze flicked over your shoulder and you watched as his eyes squinted letting out a chuckle. “We have an audience.” Nodding behind you.

Looking over your shoulder you found Nat and Bucky in the window, them ducking out of sight when they caught your stare, the curtains twitching, making both you and Steve laugh. 

“Well,” you started, turning back to face him and your arms snaking around his neck. “Let’s give them something to stare at.” 

Wine confidence, what a beautiful thing. You thought as Steve now smirked up at you taking two more steps before he feet were toe to toe with yours, kicking them back to make room for him on the step and now towering over you as one of his hands held your cheek, thumb brushing over your jaw and making you lean into his touch.

Fuck, your entire body was on fire.

His feet now settled between yours, bodies pressed against one another, no room between you both as he dipped his head and connected his lips to yours. Your body reacted by fisting his polo shirt and pulling his closer, if that even possible, deepening the kiss. 

It felt amazing, the feeling of his mouth moving in perfect sync with yours, the feeling of his hands exploring you before settling on the small of your back. The whimper he released when you pulled away, him chasing your lips, had you dizzy. 

“Easy Captain.” You giggled, his eyes fluttering open and them becoming dark at the sound of your nickname. 

Steve had been called Captain since he was 21, it was like a second name to him now. But the name falling from your lips had him releasing a guttural growl and his grip on your waist tightened. It had him instantly hard and he was doing everything to hide that, thankful his jacket was draped over his arm blocking it from your view. His lips back on yours in an instant but only for a short second, giving you a peck before pulling away and taking two steps down. 

He needed to calm down and putting distance between you both seemed to do the trick. 

“Sorry, I-I didn’t think-” you started apologise, thinking the nickname offended him. 

“No, no.” He hurried out. “You didn’t offend me, truth is... I liked it, a lot.” He admitted.

“Oh,” was all you could say as you clocked him shuffling on his feet, jacket now covering his crotch. The thought of Steve hiding his erection had you blushing and looking down at the floor, biting your bottom lip. 

“Rogers, you comin’?” You heard Wanda shout from the window. 

“I think he was about to.” Bucky retorted, earning a groan from Steve and giggles from Nat and Wanda. 

You simply turned to face them, all three of them ogling out of the window like you were giving them a free show, you even caught a glimpse of Vision lingering behind them all, giving them the middle finger.

“Your friends are charming.” Steve muttered to you, becoming flustered under their stares.

“They’re your friends to.” Turning back to him, holding our hand out for him to take as you both climbed the steps towards the door. “In fact, I think they were your friends first.” 

Before even entering the living room you could hear them all shuffling back to their seats and when you both walked in, they were all pretending to watch TV, except for Vision who was, not so innocently, looking through your book collection on the old book shelf by the window. 

“I’m disappointed in you Vis, you’re supposed to be the mature one out of these lot.” You grumbled, kicking your shoes off and settling on the free couch, giving Steve’s hand a small tug to sit down with you on the couch.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help myself.” 

“Hey! We’re mature!” Bucky argued back.

“Says the Sargent who laughs at the word penal.” Steve teased his best friend and rolled his eyes when Bucky started to snigger, which made you laugh along with him. Steve's hand found your thigh, giving it a small squeeze. 

“It’s a funny word.” 

“You’re a child.” Nat whispered to him, giving his cheek a quick kiss and making him smile widely. 

“So, how was the date?” Wanda asked, moving her legs from the arm of the chair so Vision could sit there. 

“That didn’t take long.” You muttered.

“So, I think your friends approve of me.” He sarcastically offered, puffing his chest out a little. “Does that mean I get a second date?”

“Someone’s bold.” Closing the front door behind you when you eyed Wanda hanging out in the hallway, pretending to admire the pictures along the wall.

Always so overbearing.

“For someone who hated blind dates-“

“I still do, but you’re an exception.” You smiled up at him, his body shuffling closer to you and his hands finding your hips, leaving a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips. “Second date, huh?” You breathed out, your eyes staying closed for a few seconds before fluttering opening.

“How about I pick you up tomorrow night?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Remember, I’m eager.” He repeated your words back to you, giving you a cheeky grin.

“Tomorrow it is, Rogers.” Leaning up to give his cheek a kiss.

“I prefer it when you call me Captain.” He whispered against the shell of your ear, the feeling of your body tensing made him chuckle. “Sounds fuckin’ incredible comin’ from your lips, sweetheart.” Your heart rate increasing and your stomach twisting at his words.

When you entered the house again you were met with the stares of your roommates and their significant others.

“Knew he’d like you-“

“Like her?!” Buck interrupted Wanda from his place on the couch. “I could hear his heart rate when you called him Captain, I’m surprised he didn’t fuck you then and there.”

“Who says I would’ve let him?” You challenged back, quirking your brow upwards.

“You forgotten about my super solider abilities? If I can hear his heart rate, I could definitely-“

“Alright!” Holding your hand up to stop him, only to be met with their laughter. “You’ve made your point.”

After their laughter had died down Wanda gave you a warm look, “told you one date wouldn’t kill you.”

[whump-town]

"Paranoid" 

Should be in bed and asleep deadass rn but instead it's hotch's birthday so here's the worst thing i could think of:

Word count: 1500 words

The decay of late fall sets Hotch’s nerves on edge. Shadows begin to walk amidst the day again, the sun sets earlier and earlier every day and the wind comes back with a sharp clarity and the imminent threat of winter. Halloween decorations hang ripped from tree branches by the wind and unsupervised groups of teenagers. The leaves are wet, stomped to a soggy film overtop the concrete. Dry leaves skitter up the road, a dog barks two doors over. Hotch tries to narrow his focus on walking, watching his shoe touch down on the ground and propel him forward. Focus on walking rather than the twisted-up nerves in his stomach, the thought pressed up behind his eyes telling him to be afraid. To expect something, to be cautious. 

Jack will be home at seven-thirty, he has debate practice until five but he’s been on a kick the last month – using his own money to have dinner with friends. Hotch has met four teenagers, but supposedly their gang is made of six. They're nice kids, a little afraid of all the secrecy and the general state of how Hotch looks, but Jack is also a teen and Hotch won’t keep him home just because his life is fucked up. 

Hotch kicks his shoes off at the door, searching through the dark for any sight of Jack. He already knows Jack isn’t home – if he were, every light in the house would be on – but Hotch still tugs his jacket off and calls out anyway. It is his birthday, there might be a chance Jack has come home early to spend the day with him. He’s not exactly been father-of-the-year, Hotch isn’t even sure Jack thinks he’s a good dad, and up-rooting Jack’s entire life and moving blindly across the county did not win him any favors. 

Hotch falters as he steps into the kitchen, his brain processing the melted candles, wilted and drizzling wax down onto white icing. “Jack?” Hotch blows the last flame, a tiny flicker, out and turns around, heading for his room. “Jack!”

See and this is where it never makes any sense to him, that therapy business. Two different Bureau psychs told Hotch he was paranoid. He sees this little towny lady now, Cassandra. She’s thirty, but he’s certain she’s lying, and he struggles to get past the idea that she’s far too young to be dealing with a sad old man’s problems. He also hates her. She’s all about this feeling business, she has this annoying pillow with all the emotions on a wheel and she makes him point to what he feels before he’s allowed to speak. She’s also incredibly bossy and thinks he’s “hyper-vigilant”,  “paranoid”, and “uses logic to distance himself from his emotions”. 

Oh, he can’t wait to tell Cassandra about this. Paranoid, huh? Well, is it still called paranoid, Cassandra, if you’re right?

There’s a gun in the china cabinet. Hotch doesn’t even have to look, he keeps his back to the wall, as his hands push through the dust to where he knows, instinctively, his backup weapon is. There’s not a sound in the house – nothing. 

Clearing rooms is instinct, Hotch’s anxiety abates the moment the cold metal meets his palm. He knows what to do. Hotch feels like he breathes for the first time in months as he raises the gun, the thoughts clearing his head. Just silence. 

Hotch doesn’t realize how empty he’s left this house until he’s scanning the walls. He has nightmares about slamming Foyet’s head into his engagement photos. The way that the glass had broken, the shards in his fingers. Hotch can’t remember a lot from that fight but he does remember that, the way it felt through his hand as he drove Foyet’s head into the glass. 

He thinks about that a lot (it’s red on the feelings wheel, disgusted: embarrassed, appalled). 

Seeing the walls, the barren hall, and the empty living room make Hotch realize that he is the reason Jack doesn’t want to be here. This might be a house but he’s hardly made it anything else. It’s just empty rooms, a desolate, sad place Jack doesn’t want to come back to (that’s orange on the feeling wheel, sad: guilty, remorseful – he doesn’t like the feelings wheel but Hotch doesn’t half-ass anything, he’s got it memorized… that one’s come up in therapy actually). 

Hotch lowers the gun the moment he sees Jack and he’s blinded, black spots clouding his vision as something collides with the back of his head, snapping his jaw shut with an audible crack – the crack is not from his jaw, which does hurt, but nearly as much as getting hit with a gun. 

Hotch falls down to his knees and he shouts as his gun is kicked from his hand, a swift blow to his wrist that gives easily. Something wet and cold hits his face, a powerful assault that steals his breath as the substance burns its way down his throat. Hotch’s back hits the ground and he looks up at a mask. Foyet. His heart feels like it’s stopped, his face getting pale and really hot, and he lays paralyzed in fear. 

Peter Lewis pulls the mask off his face in one quick movement, revealing a smile behind the blacked-out mouth of the mask. “I thought that’d scare you,” he says, cheerily, holding the mask back from himself and smiling at it proudly. “I really had to search for this,” Lewis admits, tossing it onto Jack’s bed. “You know, the company that sold Mr. Foyet his mask made a huge profit after he escaped prison.” Lewis nods and then shrugs, “but they did stop selling them after you know who got killed… Haley. Your wife.” 

Hotch closes his eyes, willing his vision to clear when he opens them again. He can hardly focus his eyes and he can’t move his head but he can see Jack from the corner of his eye. He’s frozen, standing completely still with tears streaming down his face. There’s cake batter dried to his hands and shirt and flour all over his pants. 

“Now,” Lewis says, clearing his throat and offering Jack the gun. “We talked about this,” Lewis reminds Jack, “take the gun.” 

Jack sobs, choking but he takes the gun from Lewis. 

“Do it.” Hotch watches the way Lewis looks at Jack, that giant creepy smile trying to soothe Jack, attempting to calm him down so he can press the trigger. “You have to do it, Jack.” 

Jack closes his eyes, his right hand stretching the gun out in front of him but the rest of him turned from it. “No,” he manages, coughing as he grows more and more distressed. He’s hyperventilating, sobbing as he stands there. “Please.” 

“Hotch,” Lewis says, turning suddenly to him with a smile. “Tell Jack who killed his mother.” 

Hotch shuts his eyes, feeling the compulsion to speak, the ability, hit him like his mouth is watering. “I did.”

“Louder!”

“I did!” Hotch can feel himself shaking, the effects of the drugs are starting to hit him a little stronger. He feels light-headed, and suddenly so cold. “I did, it was my fault.”

Lewis tsks, “well there you have it.” He smiles at Jack, “now do it.”

Jack shakes and yelps when Lewis grabs his other hand, putting them both on the barrel and aiming the gun down at Hotch. “Do. It.” Lewis commands one last time. “You kill him or I kill you both.”

“Jack.” Jack’s attention turns gratefully to Hotch, wanting nothing more than for his father to just end this already. Figure this crap out and get them home – Jack just wants his dad, he doesn’t know how to do this. He’s just scared. 

“It’s okay,” Hotch is panting, whatever drug Lewis sprayed in his face fucking sucks. Hotch has not done a lot of drugs but he’s done enough, more than enough to know whatever this shit is, it’s awful. “It’s okay, buddy.” He can’t see anything anymore, the cake batter on Jack’s shirt has faded into the blue fabric. Black spots are blocking the center of his vision, trying to take him down into the cold with them. “ ‘s… ‘kay.”

Lewis nudges the gun back up, wrapping his arm around Jack’s shoulder. “Won’t be long,” Lewis whispers. “I told you the drugs were strong, he won't feel it. You can do it, Jack. It’s so much easier than you think.”

"Dad," Jack sobs, his knees shaking beneath him and he feels Lewis stand closer to him. "Dad–"

The gunshot is ignored, a solitary confusing sound but the sound of screaming, of gut-wrenching sobs, draws attention to the quiet little house.

[azlrse]

hihiii! for the winter prompts list (if it’s not taken already), could we perhaps get a licorice x reader with 🔥?

iloveyourwritingbtwlIKEHOLYCRAP i’ve been juuust a lil obsessed with licorice these past few days after i started cookie run but it’s healthy i sWE A R and anyway your self ship stuff gives me serotonin that is all

Warmth in the Fireplace (Licorice Cookie x GN Cookie!Reader)

CW: none, just fluff!

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!!! And also, thank you for the compliment, anon!!

You were walking around the small village to get some decorations for the christmas tree and the sound of laughter of the small cookies makes you at ease. You were apart of Dark Enchantress' followers, one of the cookies of darkness but most of your peers didn't know of your dark affiliation due to your friendly appearance.

Feeling the cold wind on your face was the best feeling you ever felt. You were endlessly cooped up inside of the dark castle where the mistress of darkness resides. You didn't hesitate to greet back at the villagers as they say their seasonal greetings towards you. Knowing that your allies despised these cookies whom they call weak and ignorant, you still reply with a smile and replying their words with the same greetings.

You were a bit surprised when your master insisted that she now allows you all to celebrate christmas, which makes you really excited and thanking her profusely. You really loved celebrating that holiday every since you were just a freshly baked cookie.

While returning back to Crimson Badlands, you saw Licorice and Dark Choco struggling to bring in a huge tree towards the castle doors. "Woah guys, you need help? This tree is kinda huge." The fallen prince only stared at you but gives a small nod, indicating that your help is much appreciated. However, the sorcerer imposed the idea that you helped them.

He was a bit of a show off and insisted that his licorice servants will help the both of them but still, you still wanna help the both of them. Licorice fancied and really liked you, not because of your skills on black sugar magic but you didn't teat him harshly like Pomegranate do. Yeah sure, he wants your help but didn't want to because you are already exhausted with your shopping session.

But in your perspective, you don't want Dark Enchantress to be disappointed to your allies and to get the job done early. Plus, the snow was about to fall heavier and you don't want these two to catch a cold.

After the tree was decorated with lights and ominous figurines, the group went into separate ways. You joined with Poison Mushroom to see his mushroom collection and was curious about its effects when a cookie indigest the substance.

Despite having a fireplace on the castle's living room, you still felt a bit cold and your thick winter coat doesn't help either. So, you proceeded to sit infront of the fireplace. The warm and the smell of oak and burnt wood makes you at ease as you closed your eyes and envisioned that you finally found peace in the orange and yellow glow of the warm element.

Licorice saw you all alone in the fireplace and saw this opportunity to make a move for you. He was really nervous to sit beside you but wants to spend time with you. The small cookie senses the sorcerer's nervousness and proceeded to hand him a blanket. This cookie knows that Licorice really liked you, helping him out is one of the things is the least they can do.

He proceeded to walk beside you and without a word, sat beside you in silence. You were startled a bit when you felt the soft fabric of his thick robe. This makes you really warm on the side when the cookie you had a crush on sat beside you.

"Licorice, what are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in your room?"

"I only accompany you because you seem alone. I'm only doing this because I didn't have else to do."

"If you say so, Licorice."

Silence was engulfed at the end of the conversation. Your eyes closed as you rest your head on his shoulder, making him flustered. When Licorice saw that it's just the two of the empty living room, he saw that it's his chance to cuddle with you. Staring the blanket that Poison Mushroom Cookie gave him earlier, he wants to put his arm around you as the soft and fluffy blanket engulfed the two of you.

But he saw you shivering a bit, so he has no choice but to make the move first.

You felt the blanket and his arm draped around you. Despite your tired state, you felt the blush creeping on your face. You were about to say something but Licorice spoke first. "Just- just rest for a bit. It's just the two of us here." You only smiled a bit, gripping his torso as a way to receprocate his affections.

If you could just look up, you could see the small and rare smile Licorice has on his face. Spending time with the cookie he liked the most really makes his day, alone in the fireplace.

Before you drifted off to sleep, you felt a small peck on your head and Licorice spoke but tries his best to not wake you up. "Merry Christmas, my dear. How I wish to tell you how I truely felt for you.."

Well, looks like you're going to hang a mistletoe somewhere on the castle, specifically his work room.

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[blu-joons]

BEST FRIEND MONSTA X A⇴Z HEADCANON ⇴ Lee Jooheon

A ⇴ ATTENTION

When you were with Jooheon, his attention was always on you. He listened attentively to every word that you said, even if you were talking nonsense then he would still keep his eyes on you and listen in.

B ⇴ BICKER

You both could be pretty childish and petty with one another if you wanted to be. Jooheon especially could bicker; he would talk and talk and talk often leaving you struggling to get a word in when the two of you did bicker as he drowned you out and made sure that his opinions were heard over yours.

C ⇴ COMFORT

For all the times that he wanted to make you laugh, Jooheon knew when to stop joking around and be there for you. He could be very serious when he knew that something was upsetting you, and if it was someone that was upsetting you then he would definitely offer to put them in their place if that was what you wanted him to do.

D ⇴ DISAGREEMENTS

The two of you didn’t tend to disagree with each other too often, most of the time when you started arguing one of you would end up saying something funny and calm the two of you down once again. Jooheon especially could tell whenever he was beginning to wind you up and so he would change his approach and try and be more understanding of you as there was nothing worse for him than falling out with you.

E ⇴ EARLY YEARS

You both took a shine to each other almost as soon as you met, conversation seemed to flow between the two of you in an instant with the two of you feeling very relaxed around one another. Jooheon was incredibly good at picking up conversation as soon as it began to fall flat between the two of you so that you continued to talk to him and get to know more about him so that your friendship.

F ⇴ FAMILY

Jooheon’s family were very welcoming of you from the first moment that they met you, they’d listened to Jooheon talk about you enough to know that you were someone that they would get on with. If anything, you exceeded all expectations when you met them though, more than happy to tell them about yourself, share some stories about Jooheon and get stuck in with all of the things that they did together as a family.

G ⇴ GETTING TOGETHER

You never shied away from being seen out in public together, neither of you really cared what others had to say about your friendship. If fans were rude to you, Jooheon would always have your back, just wanting to enjoy some time out with his best friend like most of the other people who were around you were doing too.

H ⇴ HABITS

The two of you had a habit of mocking each other without even realising that you were doing it sometimes too. You both knew each other’s mannerisms inside out and often used them against one another when you were messing around and trying to get some sort of reaction out of the other person.

I ⇴ INSIDE JOKES

Having inside jokes was inevitable between the two of you with how often Jooheon struggled to bite his tongue. He was often engaging mouth before brain and leaving you in hysterics at the things that he came out with which had you making sure that you remembered as many as possible to reflect back on.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

It wasn’t that Jooheon was ever jealous about the other people that you considered friends; he was just very wary of them. There were a few people in your friendship group that he absolutely trusted, but there were also a few that he felt that he needed to keep a close eye on. All he wanted was for you to surround yourself with good people who took good care of you, even if that person wasn’t always him.

K ⇴ KICKS

Jooheon got a kick out of winding you up quite a lot of the time, he knew the perfect way to get a reaction out of you, no matter how stubborn you were. Particularly if you were in a strop with him, Jooheon loved when he was able to leave you no choice but to crack a smile because he was making you laugh so much.

L ⇴ LOVE

He loved the fact that you supported him all the time, but most of all, Jooheon loved supporting you too and watching you do well and succeed at as much as possible. He knew that at times you doubted yourself and that you compared yourself to his successes too, but Jooheon was always your biggest cheerleader and gave you plenty of confidence that you could do whatever you put your mind to.

M ⇴ MEETING

The two of you first met when you found yourselves in a café together, with you working, and Jooheon relaxing. Your tables were next to each other, and as you sat and worked on your laptop, the nosy side of Jooheon couldn’t help but ask you about what you were working on with intrigue getting the better of him.

N ⇴ NONSENSE

Together, the two of you loved to just mess around with one another and relax. You were well known for how stupid you could be when you were together, with no one really knowing what either of you were thinking.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Jooheon was obsessed with how well you took care of him. He absolutely knew that you would always be there for him and that he could rely on you with any problem that he had to help him through it.

P ⇴ PRECIOUS MOMENTS

The moments that meant the most to Jooheon were the ones when the two of you went out and did something fun. He loved doing normal things with you, he didn’t care if he was spotted with you or if rumours started to spread about the two of you being together, he just loved exploring with you by his side.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

He often worried about how you were, that was Jooheon’s most important thing. Every single day he made sure to ask you what was going on and if something was on your mind, he’d make you open up to him.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Your friendship was the inspiration behind many of Jooheon’s raps, when he thought of you and the way that you made him feel it made it pretty easy for him to put pen to paper. Even if others didn’t always know it, he would rap knowing that there was only ever one person who had given him the idea to get it done.

S ⇴ SUPPORT

You were a big fan of the group anyway but having your best friend in the group definitely made you support them even more. Jooheon loved how much of a fan you were of them, how you knew the routines and the lyrics to just about every single song so when he saw you in the crowd, you were always singing along.

T ⇴ TRIPS

Pretty much anytime that the two of you went to visit one of your families, the other tagged along. You were incredibly welcomed by Jooheon’s family, and your family always loved it when he stopped by with you too.

U ⇴ ULTIMATE

He felt incredibly lucky to have you as his best friend, Jooheon never took your friendship for granted and the things you did for him.

V ⇴ VISITS

There would always be a shy smile on his face whenever you visited him at the studio unexpectedly. He hated how you always managed to surprise him and pick him up when he needed a little boost whilst there.

W ⇴ WISDOM

One of the things that Jooheon never failed to do was make you laugh with the silly advice that he often gave to you to help you out.

X ⇴ XXXX

He was affectionate around most people, but Jooheon was particularly affectionate with you. He never shied away from you; he often kissed the top of your head too when he was overly excited about something.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his childhood; he had spent several years glued to your side.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

Quite often Jooheon would invite himself round to stay at your place before even asking you if he could. Jooheon was always full of confidence that you would never be able to say no to him when he stopped by.

---

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