#And those things need grounding...such is the mark of a good artist who can bend lines alreafy familiar | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Text

Okay rockstars, settle down

rockstar!bucky barnes x assistant!reader x rockstar!loki laufeyson / masterlist

summary; having previously worked for loki, it causes a heat to burn within bucky’s already accumulated hate towards the musician / warnings; threesome, smut, mxf and mxm sex, mentions of sex with other characters, oral sex (male and female receiving), creampie, unprotected sex, double penetration, degradation, swearing, orgasm denial, cum eating

“Can’t believe you worked for that wanker.” Snarked Bucky as an image of the well known, musically spread, and acoustically acclaimed, Loki Laufeyson was shown on the screen of the dressing room television, as the other artist stretched his clothing bare arms across the back of the couch. “Come here sweet cheeks.”

At his command, you dismissed the paper work for a moment, trailing over and straddling the inked hunk’s chain belted lap, digging your manicured set of nails into his shoulders, as you seated yourself over his crotch. “I’m happy I work for you now Buck, you treat me so good.”

Punctuating your words, you pressed your teeth into your bottom lip, giving it the appearance of being more plump, as you batted your dark eyelashes up at your employer. “I do, don’t I?” He rhetorically asked, skimming his fingers across the length of your arms, before moving them to sloppily cup your jaw, ensuring that you would not look away from his wild and dilated pupils. “Tell me what I do better than the lead singer of the god of mischief.”

At his words, a small yet peaceful contortion of uncomfortableness split a skin grafted line through the centre of your forehead, stating that you had no wish to do so. And thus, as punishment for your self aversive silence, Barnes braced his knuckles into your skin, causing you to keen out, and tap his shoulders in verification for surrender.

In turn, you lowered your hands, dragging the tips of your nails, absentmindedly running them down the expanse of his waxed chest, conveniently passing the silver hoops that were attached to his nipples on the trail to a less dominant ground. “I prefer the way that your songs have a heavier bass and-“

“Uh uh uh, not the music. Think of something that has you, let’s say, screaming, but definitely not in a crowd. Though, we may have to try that one sometime; show the world how hungry you are to assist me.”

“You, James Bucky Barnes,” he loosened his grip to your relief, which lead to you hugging in spite, “are the best fuck I have ever endured. Loki has nothing on you, he deems himself a god of the arts, but he doesn’t see how you paint me so perfectly with your cum, nor how you bend my body to your whim, as though I am a tool in the midst of your creations, useful, but disposable.”

“I like the sound of that doll. Disposable, now that really does you make you sound like my personal cum dump.”

“That’s was certainly interesting to listen to...”that voice had your body jolting in shock, and it appeared that Bucky too was surprised by the presence, though, he steadied his well versed hands on your hips, claiming you to the intimate spot.

“What the fuck are you doing in my dressing room you greasy haired weasel?” Bucky sneered, his nose turning up at the sight alone of his competition in the lyrical world. Loki, he had graced you with his presence, and you had to look away; he admittedly looked good.

His shirt was open chested, leaving you with the memorable impression of all the times that you had left crescent marks upon that particular surface, a few times you had even drawn blood, but that had only fuelled his mission to fuck you into a propeller of urgency.

“Our new album Laufey has just been released, I can confirm my dear, you shoulda stayed around and knelt in our success. The records are certainly going to have more sales than what was it called again? Ah yes, the red star. I could tell it was about this one, so much passion, a sultry tune, that did little to justify what it means to be with her.”

Loki’s hands waved around as he spoke, and you could only picture the past whence he penetrated your with those long and talented fingers of his. He had drawn orgasm after orgasm out of you, resulting you to be nothing more than a withering mess, as he digressed the option to simply stop. There was nothing simple about him, nor the time that he demanded that he shared you with his brother.

That thought alone had you mindlessly grinding upon Bucky’s covered cock, plucking at your lip with the keys of your teeth, though Bucky’s voice brought you back to reality, causing you to pause your movements embarrassingly, venting a clear out of your head to process the situation that was before you. The two were bickering like two teenage girls, and it was quite exhausting to listen to.

“Answer the question trickster, else I’ll have you fed to the infamous black panther, and let’s just say that he is the best bodyguard I have ever hired. So, are you going to speak, or will I have you dragged out of here like a damned serpent with a noose around its neck?” Bucky threatened, gritting his teeth together, his nose straining in frustration, drawing more attention to the small stud on the right side of his nose.

“Looks like she needs me Barnes, perhaps your reputation does not proceed you. But to answer in full, my band have made quite the rise, and I thought it would be... fitting to pay you a visit. Though I had no idea that this wonderful woman would be here, pining on your lap like some feline in heat. I see she’s fucking you now, after all my suspicions are never wrong. Or we’ll, Heimdall’s train of thought always ends up at the right station.”

“Can the pair of you stop, for one goddamn minute!” Your hands obscured a path into your hair, as you glared back and forth between the pair of rival rockstars. “I am here, dammit! Stop talking about me as though I am not here, a part of me wishes that I wasn’t so I didn’t have to listen to your bitching.”

Without any thought, you clambered from your perch on Bucky’s lap, walking towards the raven haired gentleman, pointing your finger in his face as you accused him. “You’ve got your point across, but I’ll tell you something. If you don’t leave, Heimdall will see me putting my foot up your ass.”

“Does she speak to you like this Barnes? I thought she had loosened up in more ways than one when I allowed Thor to stretch her cunt, but it appears that that mouth of hers has gotten a little out of hand also. You should do something about that, or else you’ll lose her to someone else like a did. Who knows, could be Romanoff, heard she has a thing for brats.”

Natasha Romanoff, a diverse woman in her ways and songs. She was the queen of the rock culture, tormenting her workers with her verbal abuse and it would undoubtedly be no different for her assistant. If you were to be under her employment, it was certain that you would not get out alive, nor work for another talented person for the rest of your life. To cross her, was a vow to sign your own death certificate, it was plain stupidity, yet people still hustled with her and her limits, resulting in their chances of ever getting hired for any job, vastly slim to none.

At the lack of defence that Bucky provided you, you felt small, your shoulders slacked as you were tortured with Loki’s cold and silky gaze, more so when the man stood up, pressing his bare chest against your back. You could feel the rings that hung off the buds that adorned his chest coil and dig into your back, shrouding your demeanour substantially.

A part of you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to abuse Loki’s face with his fist, specifically the right, since it was the bearer to a chunky silver ring. It’d leave quite the print, however, the unexpected unravelled as his enquiring tone was aimed not at you, but Loki instead.

“You let your brother fuck her, hmm. Maybe she should learn her manners by being shared, that way her retrospective spattering of bullshit may be contained, to a limit of course.” It was unbelievably, you could not believe that Bucky was conferring with the enemy! And not only that, they were talking about experiences of having you literally become speechless from their unprofessional administrations upon your body. “I’d get T’Challa in here, but I know she’s already fucked him. Can’t quite fire him for it though, because who could ever say no to those pretty eyes, and that mouth, god, it is definitely one of her most persuasive attributes.”

“Bu-“ you didn’t even get to finish imploring his name off your lips, about to defend yourself and your previous actions, though, you were interrupted, starved from the opportunity of coming up with an explanation.

“No.” Loki told you, the roles now reversed as he was the one with his index finger aimed at you. He tapped your nose with it, as he began to pace in the room, his wild locks remaining in their place as he spun, before facing Bucky, a sly tranquility of a truce veining out from the pools of his evergreen orbs. “You don’t speak a word to me y/n, not whilst I’m having a conversation with James here.”

James. It was too far a polite way for him to address your boss. They were all hot and ready to tear out each other’s throats a moment ago, and now here they were, having a silent conversation without your inclusion. It had you reeling your mind as to why, until Bucky gathered your hair in his hand to the side, sliding you y/h/c locks over your shoulder, and finally deemed it acceptable for you to hear his voice.

Though, he still was not directing his tensive words in your direction. “Since you had dealt with this subordinate behaviour from her, perhaps you’d like to join us; help me train her to become more...” His breath fanned your the top of your ear, making your skin crawl by not only his warm and inviting breath, but also the offer that he had supposed to the other man.

“Obedient?” Loki asked in turn of his wispy ended offer of optimism, his leather, sharp tipped boots taking a prominent, heart clenching step towards you. He reached his finger out, grasping a loose strand that had fallen out of Bucky’s grip and before your face, tugging lightly on it, as his lips came dangerously close to your own. “Rules aren’t your forfeit, are they my dear? The best assistant I ever hired, with all those unique ideas floating around in that independent head of yours, but you’ve always been troublesome. I remember the time that you bit my cock that day you had attitude. I reckon Bucky here could do a better job.”

“Then why doesn’t he?” You hissed as said man tugged on his handful of your hair, instantly making you regret your phrase in the moment. To a halting surprise however, Bucky released you, lightly shoving you to cause you to fumble forwards, and away from him.

“Maybe I will.” He dared, earning a nod from Loki, whom seductively began to unzip his loose trousers, as Bucky descended to the ground, his hands running up his rival’s thighs, as the material dropped around Loki’s ankles. It would seem, that he had gone commando, and as Bucky grasped Loki’s shaft, you felt a pull in your chest inherently demanding that you play some part in this fornication.

“Wait.” Your hand shot out, as though you had some force to stop them from continuing with their war path to exact all of their developed spit onto you. “What about me?” You were ss

“Oh no doll, you are not pulling any strings here, if you wanna do something useful, come here and warm my cock, you can watch me blow your old associate.” A slither of a whimper fell from your lips, it wasn’t exactly what you were prying towards, but you sure as hell were not going to refuse the contact that Bucky was obliged to give you.

Thus you wandered towards him, your pinkies curling around one another, as you sashayed to the ground beside him, watching as he paid Loki no mind for a moment, ruthlessly in a desperation fuelled motion, unbuckled his thick belt, and shoved the material of his leather trousers to be held accountable against his lower thighs, just above his tense knees.

He too, as their exteriors supposed, had forgone the extra layer that kept his cock tucked away, though it was exposed as he tugged those tight trousers down, and the sight of both his and Loki’s cocks bobbing in the same vicinity had you close to quivering.

It was somewhat of a dream portrayed in the viscous space of reality, the two men half undressed in then proximity of yourself, it was something that you had always imagined, even before you had left Loki’s side, and opted to work for Bucky, but the idea was definitely short lived. They hated each other, but apparently they were willing to put all their issues aside to prohibit you from freely running your mouth.

Bucky’s cock twitched as he patted his own thigh, ordering you without the aid of his voice to commence it as a servant’s throne, or in your case, a stool for you to rest on as he tended to intimate needs of the man that you had once worked for. Finally, with the decision of better judgement, you allowed your grey jumper dress to slide down your body, leaving you nude, and the aspect of the two men’s unforgiving and locked gazes.

“No underwear, and you wonder why your men have no difficulty in her allowing them to fuck her.” Bucky took ahold of his cock, squeezing his cock with one hand, whilst his other aided you in sitting on his muscular legs, as he lightly growled up at the opposing rockstar.

From the stiff grip that Bucky affirmed around his sceptre, Loki gasped, his pale lips instantly shutting once the sound wantonly abandoned him. The last thing that he wanted was for Bucky to see him in vulnerable poise, though with that said, it’d be rather difficult considering the smutty circumstances.

Bucky took Loki’s long, alabaster prick into his mouth, starting from the primrose tip and descending down, reciprocating the action that you did yourself as you sheathed yourself onto his cock, but instead with his lips. A grunt rendered along Loki’s length as the man bit back a whimper, the vibrations running through his veins like a transpiring pulse of sorcery.

Bucky opted for bobbing his head, as you endured the liberation of his very slightly gyrating movement inside of you. Though, despite him being almost completely still and leaving you full to the brim with his thick length, his balls resting against the partition where he was delved into you, you remained transfixed.

The motion image, recording first hand through your own eyes, of him blowing Loki was sinful, but you were drawn to it. If that made you a sinner, one endorsed by the graphic scene, licking your lips from the sight of Bucky running his studded tongue up the length of Loki, dipping the ball of silver metal into his slit, then so be it.

Your heart raced as you were met with an opportunity. A globe of saliva, strung by the lapping muscle of Bucky’s tongue dropped down; you practically saw its fall in slow motion. It was done before you could register your actions, you had leant forwards, catching the trickle of spit in your mouth, thinking not for a moment as you gulped the subjective liquid down.

Bucky’s pace increased, he gagged lightly as he jolted him further down his throat. Loki hummed, harshly grabbing Bucky’s dark brunette locks, biting his lip as he reimagined your little catch. It had him feeling close, and just as he was about to finish, precum furiously pooling out of his tip, Bucky pulled back, a smirk marking his features.

“You’re not cumming in my mouth, I don’t mind sucking dick, nor swallowing, but I have to practically listen to you jizz over your own talent, and prowl over my girl.” The name he labelled you with had your heart fluttering, but not nearly as much as when he lightly pulled out of you, infuriating you with the lack of any pleasurable esteem. “Don’t you worry babes, you can finish with me inside of you, like always.”

That used to be him, Loki thought with a brewing rage in his chest. Though he instead shrugged out of his dull patterned striped shirt that was already loose on his shoulders. The fabric hit the floor, leaving all of you barren to the subject of nudity.

“Always doesn’t suppose the past Barnes.” Loki stated, referring to all the various times that he had found refuge in your spongey walls, you willingly clenching around him, and pleading for him to hit a deeper spot within you. “And I do not prowl, I don’t need to. The evidence is there between her legs, coiling in juices surrounding her ever so willing folds, that are prepared to endure the harshest of penetrations.”

“What are you trying to do, write a fucking song about this?” Scoffed Bucky, rolling his crystallised orbs at the guts that this man had. If he so much as wanted to, he could stop this passage into a three way all together, but he did not, at least he had yet to. He was enjoying the way that you were squirming to yourself, thinking that he didn’t notice, squeezing the sides of your thighs together in an aroused matrimony.

“A fucking song would’ve the correct term - literally.” Was the affirmed words of Loki, as he shoved Bucky to be sat beside you, tilting his messy brush of crazed hair, his untrustworthy eyes drifting to you. “Who’d you want to fuck you, you fangirling slut?”

It was truthfully a difficult decision. “Both.” You admitted, your bones jumping as Bucky pinched one of your erect nipples, continuing to hold a sturdy clasp of his pads around the sensitive flesh; you couldn’t jut choose one of them. Not when they were both in such close range, bore in nothing more than their birthdays suits, talking about your quivering and diversely accepting cunt.

They knew that you couldn’t possibly refuse one or the other. You were vastly too hungry to be filled like you had never been before, shagged by two of three most well known artists in the industry, earnestly and mindlessly earning yourself a title within the circle of uptight yet simultaneously chill performers.

Perhaps, if Bucky we to ever potentially fire you, there would be another pursuer for your articulating talents on standby, awaiting for the moment that you walked out of his complex door to swoop you up as though they were a predatory falcon, flying off into a stationed sunset, those around seeing you as nothing more than a shadow of the ambient orb, but the one who had employed you finding you to be a sufficing inspiration.

Large hands swallows your hips, firmly controlling their angle as they grasped you in their strong, almost super human hold, lifting you so that you were tentatively tucked in a reverse cowgirl position on Bucky’s lap. It was the third time that you had been this close to him, it would almost be intimate, if your legs weren’t strewn in an open, all revealing splay, so that Loki could see your boss tease his tip around your entrance before sliding you down his length, extracting a strong wail from your churning throat.

Your own hand resented down, applying swirls of pressure down on your clit; it appeared that they were willing you to continue without interruption. Bucky lightly, despite the power that he was promoted to in this position, began to bounce you on his shaft, spewing small mewls out from your agape mouth.

Fisting his cock, Loki approached, Bucky reachin this seen hands down to spread te lips of your pussy, so that the other man was guaranteed a crude glimpse of you being stufffed. Though, you weren’t quite filled enough, for Bucky raised a brow and prompted Loki to allow himself to be pulled closer by your axed and whining aura.

He brushed his tip languidly against your buzzing clit, dragging through your slick and jab i at your delicate fingers before probing at the base of Bucky’s cock, and pushing inside, right along his rival’s length, the pair moaning out in a pleasured union. On the other and, you had tears falling from the crescents of your eyes, the stretch so much that it was a blistering pain to your cunt.

“Don’t go all meek dear, you and i both know this is far from the first instance where you’ve had more than one cock in this nasty, betraying cunt of yours.” Loki taunted, gripping the vulnerable expanse of your throat from behind, his icy glazed skin sending provocative shivers down your spine, making your pussy pulse from the chill that ran through your body.

And then, i a split instant, both cocks began to piston into your walls, as though you were nothing more than a rag doll, meant o be thrown around and handled in a disorderly fashion. They ere ruthless, groaning out symphonies in the cursive air around you, as your walls engulfed their pricks more than snugly.

You felt so wide down there, they were taking a pirating toll on your body stealing every breath that dared wither from your lips, tweezing their nimble fingered around various parts of your body, all in due retrospect or coerce you into fucking them back, making all actions in the mass of bodies a mutual effort.

Loki lowered his head down meeting Bucky for a sloppy, brash kiss. It was clear they were simply doing that part to fulfil a greedy desire in your stomach, but you were not one that minded. It was, like the rest of their frenzy of collaborations, a competitive mess. They nipped harshly at each other’s lips, ravenously all in the meanwhile ploughing your body with their har girths.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Your tongue dribbled, earning satisfied, lust induced smirks from both parties that were currently penetrating you, making you writhe harder against their lengths a new flow of moisture weeping out from your hole, lubricating their movements further, it encouraging them to do nothing more than continue what they were doing, despite their better judgements.

The truth was, they were rockstars. They had no better judgement, which is why everyone like them needed someone like you. Their thought were clouded with one mission, and for once in their spent lifetimes, it was not to beat the others, at least not to a certain extent anyways. It was their assignment, delivered by their own hands, to bring you to the edge, and that’s physically what they reformed to do.

One of them were groping your nipples, whilst the other confined the same treatment to your ass cheeks. Loki found your Rocky enables of positive feedback to be icicles and they were beautiful, he stared at them, as though they were divine ploys extracted from the mythical kingdom of Jotunheim, their residence in the realm to be the peacemakers of all bountiful creatures, much like himself and Barnes.

A rich euphoric groan exuberated from Bucky as he allowed himself to spoil, but he tutted whence he watched Loki’s features suppose that he was to follow shortly behind. “Not inside of her.” Bucky growled, sufficing Loki to roll his eyes, and pull out, the man behind you furiously replacing your hand, rolling our clit in his grasp until a sinful scream enveloped the air, commencing them all to the fact that you had just came.

Loki found the show to be unfair, and instead, spilled his priceless seed onto the huffing skin of your stomach, you eyes fluttered shut at the warm feeling pooling onto you. You leant back, drawing your neck into a crooked angle as you swiped your tongue wordlessly over the piercing on Bucky’s right nipple, metal providing a relief to the heat that your body was and had been swarmed with. “ Last chance you’re gonna have t taste her sweet cunt.”

“You do certainly have some faith in this one Barnes, but I do doubt that it will be the last instance in which i am todo so.” His silver tongue pried at your cum soaked flesh, drinking up all the essence that you had to offer, onshore the flavour that Bucky had brought to the table, i the form of a succulent drizzling of Snow White cum.

As Loki finishes swabbing his tongue over your cunt, Bucky adoringly kisses you, much sweeter than he has before. It was sort, and almost chaste, but his blue eyes roamed your face, delicately observing the high points of your face, that were covered with a sheen of great force making you as he would put it, glow.

The pair of you weer exhausted, there was still some swollen was to his lips from where he had sucked off Loki. His hands cradled you around your waist, his feet kicking Loki back as you whimpered from opaque sensitivity. “I guess that was you bidding me a dew.” Sneered the trickster, fishing for his clothes, as he spared you a spark filled glare, to which you ignored.

Once he was situated back into his attire, he left the sex scented room,a hollow smirk chapping his lips as he strutted th a purpose out into the hallway, taking a left instead of a right, and creeping into barnes’ studio to see what the man was working on in the midst of his enduring tour/ He was always the trickster, and nothing different was to ever be expected out of him.

“That was good.” You mumbled, rubbing your ode lovingly across the scruff that coated his jaw. His fingers made small circles upon your tummy, humming contently as he remained sheathed inside of you. He had to admit, he preferred it when it was just him, but his lonesome, sheathed within your walls, feeling the small trembles of your walls around him. It was practically heaven, and he would say so if he believed in such a place.

A deliberate knock ruined the moment, as the man entered,he quarrelled with himself where her to casually look in the direction of the pair of you or to avert his sight around, and blankly at the all. “What is it T’Challa?” Grumbled the man inside of you, quirking a thin brow at the timing of his presence.

“Loki; he managed to get into ur data, and he’s leaked a whole bunch of your music.” Of course, Loki would not come here to simply gloat, there was alas something extra up his green sleeve, and now it was revealed.

“Son of a bitch!” Bucky made a move to stand, but instead prohibited a whimper out of you as hi ships jutted angrily tip on instinct. “Get Odin on the phone, we’re going to have a little chat about his slippery hands son!” Barked Bucky, prepared t do anything to bring his greatest threat down, compiling him into the put of hate industry, until he was forgotten about, unable to ever produce new music again.

“Talk to Sif.” You whispered, becoming the image of his assistant once more, even if his cum lathered cock was prevailing within a rut of required stress relief, growing in the conjunction of your wall with his body guard there. “She loathes him, and rightfully so. He got her kicked out and she has dirt on him that nobody else has ever heard. If you want to take I’m down, she is your in.”

The strict tone grammatically supported by your logical information was definitely turning Bucky on again. He could handle you more than fine without Loki’s aid, he was just a means to an end, as it was clearly shown in his priorities.

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years ago

Note

Hi. If the writing requests are still open, could you maybe do something with flirting freed and blushing Laxus. Thanks :)

Hello. I mentioned Laxus blushing maybe twice and got totally of track with this au. I’m awfully sorry and I hope u still accept this offer lmao

Short summary: Au where Laxus works for a rich family. Their son is cursed to freeze the people he loves, so he has to keep a distance from them. Truly, A Very Not Good Time

WC: 5548 words

Fic under the cut!

With a slight tremour in his hand, Laxus looks up at the pristine white walls looming over him. Sighing deeply, he clutches the handle of his suitcase tighter and the servant next to him blisfully ignores him. "The Lord and Lady are awaiting you in the pavilion in the garden. You can leave your luggage here, someone will come and pick them up for you. If you'd follow me."

Without waiting for an answer, the stiff man turns around, striding away and Laxus awkwardly falls in tempo beside him. After a short walk that luckily doesn't leave him sweating, he is deposited in front of two people whose handkerchiefs look like they cost more than Laxus' entire outfit. It's now that he realises how out of his depth he is.

He clears his throat, but the servant stops him from going any further by stepping none too delicately on his foot. "Quiet", he hisses, "The Lord and Lady will speak to you as and when they see fit."

"Oh Charles, don't be like that", the Lord smiles and the servant bows hastily. Unsure of what to do, Laxus gives the man something between a bow and a firm nod. "You are dismissed", the man addresses the servant before beckoning Laxus to come closer. "Come hither young man, I've heard wonderful things about you." Laxus does as he's told and when the Lord offers him a chair, he accepts it. "Are you nervous?" his wife asks, eyes deep blue and sparkling with a barely hidden misschief.

Is he nervous? It's a wonder that she doesn't seem to ask it as a rhetorical question, instead she seems to be genuinely wondering about it. Of course he is. The two people in front of him own the land he's lived on all his life and then some. They're powerful, some say even on par with the king and with power does of course come an obscene amount of money.

Normally, Laxus doesn't care for the amount of cash one has or how many carriages they'll be able to buy in one lifetime. He'd gladly tell them to get hit by those carriages if he thought they'd deserve it. But now he can't afford to do that and somewhere, it does bother him. He's always been a man of simple pleasures and being brutally honest had been one of those things.

Being honest however, is something he can't do now. This job they've offered him pays more than any other in town and more importantly, he would be given a housing. With this job he could finally pay for his grandpa's medicine and he could give the old man a proper place to stay. No matter how these people will be treating him in the future, he'll have to shove his pride aside to keep this job.

"A little bit. But I don't think it'll affect my work and should it do so anything, you are free to claim it was artistic whims that made your garden look so avant-garde." The lady hums and spares him a little smile. "I am fond of whimsical things. It's why I married him", she jokes and moves her head into the direction of her husband. Laxus can't help but let a laugh escape.

Lord Justine raises a brow at that and Laxus quickly shuts his mouth again. Would you look at that, he's already overstepped his boundaries. The Lord's face clears up at that and he waves Laxus' worries away. "Young man, we've offered you to maintain our garden because we admire your work. You are an official part of our staff now, so don't be afraid to be frank. Life gets awfully boring when people trip over themselves to bend to your will without thinking. Do me a favour and don't be like that, okay?"

"Yes sir!" Laxus yells, bending to the man's will without thinking. Catching up to his own actions, he colours red. Ah damn. The couple doesn't seem to mind though, as they just brush it off with a laugh. "You are dismissed, change this garden as you see fit. It is your domain now."

"Ah dear", Lady Justine interrupts, "Let the young man settle in a bit first. Laxus right? We have honoured your request and have brought your grandfather over. He now resides in the room next to yours. Pardon me for asking though, but does he need a doctor? The man has a sickly glow about him." Concern colours her soft facial features and Laxus hesitates to answer. Then he remembers their command to be frank with them.

"I would really appreciate it if you did that. Thank you for your kindness. I'll try to pay you back in any way that I can." Lady Justine shakes her head, but the Lord gives him a once-over. "Say Laxus, can you hold your own in a fight? You are quite a big guy, I bet you could."

"I've had no formal training, but I have grown up around bar and streetfights", Laxus admits and the man hums in consideration. "We have a single child", he says and Lady Justine sighs: "And what a child it is."

"The boy has been cursed since birth by a witch who felt wronged by the both of us. This curse makes it so that our boy is very, very cold to any and all potential suitors. Cold to a painful degree for the opposing party and everyone who happens to watch the scene. Now if he were to be a bit of an ugly duckling, it wouldn't have been a problem. But unfortunately", Lord Justine moves his hand between his wife and himself and it hits Laxus just how stunning these two creatures are. "That's not exactly the case. Without meaning to, our son starts quite a lot of fights. He's a capable fighter, but if you happen to be around him, could you try to persuade him from instigating it? It would make the both of us very, very happy."

"I'll try?" Laxus says, unsure of how exactly he's supposed to keep a brat with blue who seems to be keen on starting fights in line. He's unsure whether it's really a curse or just a case of rotten personality. "That's all we could ask for", Lady Justine says before the couple lets him go.

The garden's magnificent and the fact that he's been given free reign over it makes his experience there so much better. It's all very pleasing to begin with, but there's so much unused lawn and after a moment of hesitation, he plants some fruits trees. After Lady Justine had commented on how nice they were, he had thrown his caution out of the window and had gone wild with the fruits and vegetables. He was a practical man at heart after all.

It's a few months into his work that he meets the young lord known as Freed Justine. No amount of warning had been able to prepare him for actually laying eyes upon the man in question.

He's dressed in a loose, light blue tunic. The fabric conceals some of his figure, but it does reveal a slight sliver of smooth skin and contrasting sharp collarbones and Laxus can barely draw his away from it. When his gaze travels upwards he lays eyes upon the softest looking pink lips in the world and he briefly wonders how they would feel against his own. After dismissing that thought, he spots the man's eyes, an impossible shade of blue that pops against the pale background of his skin. A beauty mark graces his left eye, making him look even more elegant. The finisher is his hair, looking like silk draped over one shoulder, moving softly as the stubborn wind tries to make a mess out of it. That doesn't happen though.

In front of the angelic looking man is another man, kneeling with his forehead against the ground. "Lord Freed!" the man in question yells, "Please accept my undying love and affection for you!"

"No. No, I don't think I will. Please leave." The object of the man's desires dryly says before turning his gaze towards Laxus. When his uncovered eye fully meets Laxus' eyes, he gets why people call the man in front of him cold. He's never once met someone who could relay complete and utter boredom that well with a single gaze. In a single eye. It's actually quite impressive.

"Are you a guard?" Laxus winces a bit at the sharp tone. "No, I'm the gardener."

"You lug wood around? Would you dispose of this for me?" Laxus has half the mind to tell him to dispose of the now crying lad himself, but then he remembers the request of Freed's parents. He promised them to try to keep their son out of fights, so he can't exactly tell him to start one. With a sigh he clamps the sobbing, love-struck fool under his arm and throws a salute. "I'll be putting him outside the gate."

"Have fun with that", Freed tells him and re-enters the home without sparing Laxus another glance. Somewhere within him, he wishes the man had looked back at him.

As soon as Freed's out of sight, it's like the man under his arm snaps out of a trance. "That fucking bitch", he rages as he trashes against Laxus' hold. "I'll kill him! Who does he think he is? He thinks he can go around stomping on people's hearts, just because he happens to be pretty and rich?"

"To be fair", Laxus starts, "He has every right to say no to people. You know that right?"

"He'll never get anyone better than me. At least I'm not only pursuing him for his money. He should be grateful. In fact, he should be the one begging for my attention!" Throughout his spiel, Laxus has taken the chance to take a proper look at the man he has trapped. "No offence, but aren't you a few decades older than him? Shouldn't you be a bit ashamed of chasing a young man in such a dishonourable manner?"

The old man now redirects his attention towards Laxus, but before he can voice his opinions, Laxus throws him over the fence. "Goodbye filthy geezer. Please don't come back."

God, Laxus wishes that old man would come back. Well, not really but the quality of men and women that have come in pursuit of Freed has only been declining since then. Although they're absolutely starstruck when meeting the young man, it doesn't conceal their greed and their particular brand of lewdness. The things Laxus has heard are absolutely disgusting and he wonders how Freed hasn't blown his own eardrums out yet, to save him from the comments directed his way. Laxus gladly disposes of them for him. Freed always leaves without sparing him a second glance.

One day, there's a change in routine. While Laxus is tending to his trees one morning, he hears soft footsteps and when he turns around, he sees Freed sitting down on the steps of the pavilion. "There are chairs in the shed, you know. I could get one for you if you want?" he offers and Freed jumps a little. Apparently the man hadn't noticed him yet.

The man gives a timid little shake of the head. "It's quite alright", he says and in the peaceful morning, Laxus can pay attention to the specifics of his voice. He's surprisingly soft spoken, but Laxus wouldn't call him shy. He has a velvety smooth and deep voice and talks in a calm manner, as though he knows that he'll be listened to without having to raise his voice.

For a while Laxus feels the man studying him. "Is there any reason you're here?" he decides to ask, unwilling to bear the silence any longer. "Peace, mostly", the younger man admits. "Also, they told me there was a big chance of meeting you out here."

"Oh."

"I don't think I've formally introduced to you. I am Freed Justine", he says and offers Laxus his hand. "I gathered that", Laxus answers as he shakes the hand. Freed's grip is surprisingly strong. "Jee, I wonder where you gathered that information from. Surely it wasn't from the string of admirers moaning it everyday."

Laxus snorts at the joke, but the facial expression of the young man in front of him doesn't change so Laxus quickly stops. "Please don't do that. This", Freed waves his hand in front of his stony expression, "doesn't ever change. I prefer it that way, it adds a bit of mystery to my character I think."

"You don't want people to know your thoughts", Laxus guesses and Freed gives him a nod. "I'd rather not. My life's bothersome enough as is, imagine how much more troublesome it would be if people could read my thoughts on my face instead of feeling them on their skin."

Seeing the puzzled expression on Laxus' face, Freed offers him both of his hands and Laxus tentatively takes them. The first thing he notices is the roughness of his palms and he wonders what Freed likes to do in his spare time. The second thing he notices is that they're unusually chilly and the longer he holds onto them, the colder they get. After a while it gets painful to hold onto them, so he lets go with an apologetic wince.

"The more I like a person, the colder I get. I think you're quite alright and I'd even say I like you a bit. But I have no deep attachments to you, so you are able to touch me for a little while. If I were to love you more than myself, you wouldn't even be able to be near me, you'd freeze into a fun statue of pure ice. If I felt completely neutral towards you, you would not be affected by the curse at all."

Laxus frowns at that. "That does not sound like a fun situation. How do you deal with it?" Freed gives him a mirthless smile. "I simply avoid getting close to people. It's easier than you think it is, mister Dreyar." He turns around after that, not telling Laxus goodbye and once again, he doesn't look back. Laxus, however keeps staring at the spot the young man had stood in. How awful it must be, to be close to no one. To not be able to feel the touch of someone who truly loves you.

After that particular conversation, Freed appears more often during Laxus' work. He never joins him in planting new plants or weeding though, he simply watches or reads a book in Laxus' vicinity. It's peaceful and every now and then they have other small talks. It's during those talks that Laxus learns that Freed does in fact have friends, he just doesn't meet up with them anymore after an incident he refuses to tell Laxus more about. When spotting his sad expression, Freed reaches over to smooth Laxus' worry-wrinkles out and Laxus notices that his hand feels colder than before. "Don't be saddened, we still write each other. Nothing's lost, it has only changed."

During one of Freed's visit, Laxus tells him he might as well get his hands dirty if he keeps distracting him from his work. He offers Freed a little sapling with a smile and quickly that smile withers as the plant in Freed's hands does the same. "My apologies", Freed says as though he had done something wrong instead of Laxus. "I fear I simply do not have the green fingers needed for this type of work. I'll leave it to the master of the garden instead." With an even colder finger, Freed briefly pokes him in the cheek and Laxus knows he isn't mad at him.

Freed's appearances are now a constant in his life and something Laxus constantly looks forward to. From what little hints Freed gives him, the man feels the same way. Freed still tries to keep a lather large distance between them, but more often than not he forgets himself and scoots closer to ask Laxus about the flowers he's planting or tell him about the all the poisons one could make with those flowers. He doesn't know why Freed knows such an alarming amount of poisons, but it's a quirk he doesn't dislike.

Freed likes to ramble, Laxus comes to find out. It's surprising how much he knows about various topics and how clearly he can explain things. Freed's face is the most open when he's ranting about one of the books he's read that day and Laxus finds himself fascinated. Besides talking, Freed's also really good at listening. When Laxus tells him about his past, the man lets his guard down completely to show his compassion from quite a distance away. Freed explains that his curse can temporarily rise up when he's feeling something very passionately.

It's on a sunny day, where the bees are buzzing and the heath is turning the atmosphere languid and the good kind of lazy, that Laxus offers Freed a hug.

Here's the story. Laxus, although brought up in a household where declarations of affection weren't the norm, knows what it feels like to receive positive bodily affection. A pat on his back, a ruffle through his hair, a loving shoulderbump, he has received them all. Freed hasn't. Not regularly and Laxus guesses, not ever.

He's seen the Justine parents interact with their son and although it hadn't been malicious, their interactions had been anything but warm and friendly. There was an obvious mutual respect, but the parents held their son at an arms' length. Laxus' heart ached when he had laid eyes on the spectacle and that had been the beginning of his desire to provide for Freed emotionally in some way, shape or form. God knows he himself is quite clumsy when it comes to being affectionate (quite clumsy doesn't start to begin to describe it, actually), but he wants to at least do something.

"Hey Freed", he calls out the man laying next to him on the picnic blanket. "Hm?" the man says, not opening his eyes at all, but still signifying that he's paying attention to Laxus. "Would you like a hug? I know you don't like touching people because of your accident, but we're not all that close, I think. It should be pretty safe, want to try it out?"

That does make Freed's eye snap open and he rolls on his side to face Laxus. "Why?" he asks and Laxus shrugs. "I thought it'd be nice, that's all."

"Do you pity me?" Freed asks, voice dangerously low and blue eyes glaring daggers. Despite the sunny weather, Laxus shivers underneath that stern glare. "No, but I sort of sympathise. There was a period in my life where I didn't receive any form of affection at all and it had quite the impact on me. Not a good one, mind you. I remember receiving my first hug after that period and I broke down and cried like a baby. It was a sight."

Freed smiles at that. "I bet it was." The fondness of his smile makes way for a particular brand of shrewdness that Laxus has come to associate with Freed. With a quick movement, the man has positioned himself above Laxus. He's not seated on his lap, which Laxus both mourns and doesn't. He doesn't mourn it because he can't embarass himself but he does mourn it because now he can see the muscles of Freed's legs working to keep him upright as he's kneeling above Laxus and dear lord, the sight of those could be the death of him.

With a rough hand, but a gentle manner, Freed tilts his chin up, forcing Laxus to meet his eyes and he dryly swallows as he sees the barely concealed heath in those deep blues. "Are you sure it's just that, mister Dreyar? Merely sympathy?" he asks, voice husky and Laxus colours a deep, deep shade of red in response. "Oh darling", Freed croons at that, "You have such an open face. You should really learn how to conceal your intentions."

"What if I don't want to?" That shuts Freed up and for a moment the man is quiet. Laxus wonders if he's screwed this up, but then Freed shakes his head and moves back away again. "Alright, give me a hug. It better be good. One of my eyes may be covered, but I am still plenty able to see those thick arms of yours. If I don't feel like the life is being squeezed out of me, I will consider this a failure."

Grinning, Laxus flexes his arms. "Don't you worry for even a second. I'll crush your ribcage." Freed snorts. "Charming." The process of getting into the hug is a bit awkward, but once there, it's alright. Of course, Laxus starts the whole thing by absolutely crushing Freed's ribcage. The man laughs it off like it's nothing and that prompts a bit of a squabble.

After a while and a lot of shifting though, Laxus has Freed in his lap, his head tucked underneath Laxus chin, back resting against Laxus' chest. Feeling brave, Laxus moves his own head from the top of Freed's head to Freed's shoulder, angling himself so he's nuzzling the man's neck. "See, this is nice."

"It is", Freed agrees before fully relaxing against Laxus chest with a content little sigh.

The moment is soon broken though, as frost creeps along Laxus' body. At first he ignores it, because Freed himself doesn't seem to notice the effect he's having on Laxus. Then, it starts getting uncomfortable and so he tries to gets the man's attention. He finds himself unable to move any part of his body though and the cold numbs his mouth as well. The thin layer of ice keeps getting thicker and the creaking of the frost is what attracts Freed's attention.

With a brusque movement, the man tears himself away from Laxus. He reaches out to Laxus, before stopping himself and running off, shouting something Laxus can't hear. It's so, so very cold. He curls into himself to gather more warmth and he finds it. He should go to sleep, he thinks as he feels his eyelids get heavy. He doesn't fight his instinct to do so.

When he wakes up, he's in his own room. Looking around he sees only one other person in the room. With a wave, his grandfather greets him. "You sure live an interesting life huh?" Ignoring his remark, Laxus asks him where Freed's at. "The young Justine? He's been fretting all day, but he has not come to visit you because he's started freezing up the hallways whenever he came too close to you. I think it's fair to say the young man likes you quite a bit."

Laxus should be elated to hear that someone loves him, but his worry for Freed overpowers that notion. "I bet he's lonely again." His grandfather nods. "With a curse like that, I imagine it's hard not to be."

It's unfair. It's unfair that Freed will live his life void of companionship. He'll never be able to be surrounded by true friends and he's constantly preyed upon by people for his status and money. The saddest part is that those kind of people are the only ones Freed will be able to live his life with, as all other will be turned to statues of ice. It's unfair that an innocent young man is punished for his parents' crimes like that. Passionately, Laxus relays those thoughts and many more to his grandfather, who patiently listens to him.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he asks and because it's his grandfather talking, Laxus knows there's no malice behind the words. "I don't know. Do you know any witches that could help lift the curse?" Although it had been more of a joke than an actual question, Makarov strokes his beard as though he's mulling over Laxus' question. "No, because proper witch etiquette states that a witch should absolutely not undo another witch's curse. I do however, have an inkling who the witch might be that cursed this young man. I can tell you where to find her, but be prepared my boy. She's not a very reasonable lady."

"That's what many people say about me as well. I don't care, please tell me where to find her." After his grandfather tells him the whereabouts of this particular witch, Laxus prepares for his journey. He starts with writing Freed a letter, one where he explains that he does not blame Freed for what happened and asks for his forgiveness, as well as for the man to wait for him. That he's looking for a way for them to be together. After delivering that letter, he sets off.

This Porlyusica lady really seemed intent on ticking off all the "witch"-boxes. Unreasonable? Check. Old? Check, since his grandpa knew of her. Living in big, dark, nearly impenetrable woods? Abso-fucking-lutely. It's a bother honestly, whacking his way through all the branches and thorns. But he perseveres because he has to.

Finally, he reaches her house and before he can even knock on the door, she opens her window and tells him to get lost. "Leave me alone, I've seen enough of you humans for another hundred years!" Determined, he yells back a loud "No thanks! Please let me talk to you!" She doesn't open the door for him.

So he waits in front of her door, unwilling to move an inch even if she yells at him. After three days she's finally had enough and lets him in. "You're so annoying. That particular brand of mulishness can only be attributed to one family. You're a Dreyar, aren't you?"

Sheepishly he nods and she rolls her eyes. "Of course you are. Spit out why you're here and if I'm unable to help you, leave or I'll curse you to hell and back." She's got a spine made of pure diamond, but Laxus isn't easily intimidated. "It's about that topic actually. You've cursed a man called Freed Justine."

The woman lets out a bitter, little laugh out at that. "I most certainly did not. I cursed his parents, but gave them the option to relay it someone near to them. It was only me, them and their unborn son in the room where it happened. They chose to curse their boy. Don't put that on me."

That's certainly a revelation...Laxus wonders whether he should tell Freed about it. He fears that it might shatter the already frail bond he shares with his parents and it's not as though Freed's got bonds to spare. Deciding to tackle that topic at a later moment, he turns back to Porlyusica. "Can you reverse the spell? It's ruining an innocent man's life."

She strokes her chin and gives him a squinting look. "How far are you willing to go for your goal? Do you really want this curse to be lifted or are you trying to achieve another goal by doing this?"

He shakes his head vehemently. "I'd like for him to be able to smile near his loved ones, that's all. I promise." After scrutinising him a bit more, she shrugs. "Alright then, it's not like I've got something against the young man himself. Here's the two steps to breaking the spell: 1. You're the Justine family's gardener aren't you? Here's a list of a couple of herbs I'd like you to grow there. They are only able to grow on that particular patch of land and since they stole it from me, I had to buy them. It's a financial pain in the ass, you know. 2.", she looks Laxus straight in the eyes, "Confess your honest love to him." Laxus chokes on his spit at those words. "Oh don't be like that, you're so obvious. Do that and he'll be fine."

While Laxus is still gathering his wits, she pushes the list with instructions for the herbs and some packets with seeds into his hands and manhandles him out of the door. "There you go loverboy, good luck and all that. Now scram, I've had enough human interaction to last me another three lifetimes." And with the list with herbs and a head full of confused thoughts, Laxus returns to the Justine mansion.

Part one of the counterspell is as easy as breathing. Laxus plants the herbs as soon as he comes home. He tends to them day after day, but sorely misses Freed's presence while doing so. He keeps looking out of the corner of his eyes in the hopes of laying eyes on the familiar see of green that is Freed's hair, but alas, he never comes. Sometimes Laxus thinks he can see glimpses of him through the window, but the moments are too fast and fleeting to fully conform this.

Once the saplings have fully grown, Laxus starts to work on part two of the plan. Or well, he starts to think about how he should even attempt to do such a task. He thinks, ponders and wonders a lot and ends up doing significantly less. It's embarassing, really.

A good thing though, is that recently Freed has been seeking him out again. Laxus wished they could've talked, but someone's always whisking either one of them away for something or other. It's infuriating and in those brief moments, Laxus can see that Freed thinks the exact same thing.

Finally, finally they can squeeze out of both their schedules and they find themselves in the garden, sitting on the steps of the pavilion. Before Laxus can try his hand at confessing (which probably would've gone disastrous), Freed grabs his hands with shining eyes and to Laxus' surprise, they're warm.

"It's like the curse inversed", Freed tells him excitedly, smiling brightly. "The cold isn't getting to other people anymore, it's confined to me solely." Now that he says it, Laxus can see the snowflakes on Freed's already pale skin connecting, forming a layer of frost. With lips that are turning blue, he smiles and Laxus wishes he wouldn't look that grateful. "I can be around people without hurting them now. Everything's alright now."

"It's not", Laxus blurts out, "Freed, it's really not." With a scowl, the man immediately pulls his hands back and defensively curls into himself. "Can't you be happy for me?" he spits out, "This is the best thing that's happened to me in years, it's fine if I turn into an icicle, I don't care. Just let me have this, please." Freed's anger reaches a boiling point, before he deflates and sighs so deeply and sadly. With fingers stiff from the cold, he reaches out and tilts Laxus' head just slightly so. "Do forgive me", he whispers in Laxus' ears, his cold breath sending chills down Laxus' spine. After that he gives Laxus the smallest, most innocent kiss Laxus has ever received in his lifetime. It's so, so very careful and after he pulls away, Freed cradles Laxus' hand to his cheek and whispers a quiet: "Thank you."

His eyes turn empty after that and the continuous creaking of ice stops, leaving only a horrible silence behind. Freed had been crying, Laxus realises as he touches the man's frozen face. He looks peaceful and a melancholy sort of happy. With a soft bump, Laxus brings their foreheads together and places his own hand on top of the one cradling his cheek.

"Hey Freed", he breathes, voice barely a whisper, "What I meant to say, is that you deserve more. You deserve to reconnect with those old friends of yours without freezing either them or yourself. You deserve to make friends without fearing you'll end up hurting them. You deserve the world and if I could, I'd give it to you. But honestly, I'd just like to spend more time with you." He pauses, closes his eyes and presses a kiss to Freed's hand. "I love you."

It's not like those words suddenly make the ice burst, splinters flying everywhere and impaling Laxus, killing him upon impact. Instead, he finds out that the ice had in fact been melting when Freed's hand softly strokes his cheek. Laxus' eyes snap back open and Freed gives him the most gorgeous little smile. "Well, aren't you mister dramatic. Waiting until the last moment, all fairy tale-esque", Freed teases and Laxus flushes till behind his ears. "Shut up", he murmurs and because it look like Freed does not plan to do that and instead make fun of him forever, Laxus traps him in a bearhug.

Freed squeezes back just as hard and they stay like that for a long, long time. By the time they disentangle themselves from each other, the sun's already setting. "Would you like to meet my friends?" Freed asks, "Since the inversion of the curse, they've been living here again. They are very important to me."

Taking Freed's hand, he says: "Of course. I'd love to meet the people important to you." He squeezes Freed's hand and the man smiles at that little touch. "Well then, let's go."

#fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #fanfic #TheFairyWrites #ask

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artistic-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Love Finds a Way : CS Jurassic World AU : Ch 7

Title: Love Finds a Way by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan is the Head of Operations for David Nolan’s exotic adventure park, Jurassic World. She has a son, Henry, and is loved and respected by her colleagues. Her life was perfect until a new dinosaur the park created, Indominus Rex, decided to escape. Oh, and her one night stand, Killian Jones - he’s there to help contain the asset. Just to complicate things even more. Jurassic World AU.

Rating: M (for people getting eaten)

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Alright, Ch 7 and we are right in with the action from Ch 6, so you might want to give that a quick read first. Been a time, and I am sorry. I’ve managed to get a few more than 1 WIP posting, because i suck, but i’m not neglecting any of them, i promise. This chapter has some mutual pining, which I...I kinda liked writing. Shut up, @darkcolinodonorgasm and is dedicated to the lovely @kmomof4 who needs a little love right now. And thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for your eyes <3

Taglist: @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @cocohook38 @sherlockianwhovian @wordsmith-storyweaver@winterbaby89 @kymbersmith-90 @killianmesmalls @killian-whump @nonnyj @jennjenn615 @thislassishooked @searchingwardrobes @doodlelolly0910 @cs-forlife @darkcolinodonorgasm @mariakov81 @xemmaloveskillianx

Please show your appreciation for my writing and artwork by buying me a Ko-fi. If you are unable to do that, then please enjoy it and show your appreciation with a reblog. Or leave me a comment, i’m a sucker for that. Any feedback welcome :D

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The Indominus raced through the forest, crashing through the ancient trees like they were toothpicks. Each one snapped under her weight, bending unnaturally this way and that, trees almost as old as the island ripped from existence in the blink of an eye. She roared, the sound one of anger as she tilted her head back and peered up into the sky, clawed hands clenching in front of her with glee at the sight of a helicopter hot on her tail.

“Target at ten o’clock!”

The sound whirr of the mini gun was lost over the sound on the chopper, blades slicing through the air with a melodic thumping sound. The operator slid in his seat, closer to the edge of the helicopter and grabbed hold on the two handles that operated the mini gun. It was heavy and when he pulled on the two handles on either side of the mount, the gun was lifted into place against the drag of the wind, ready to aim at the target currently charging through the forest below.

The Indominus let out another ear piercing screech, the muscles in her throat vibrating as she roared. The earth beneath her feet sunk away in the slightly damp forest floor that had been hidden from the soil scorching sun for decades. Ferns and other shade dwelling flora was no match for her weight, flattened in a second and torn apart by her clawed feet as she pushed off the ground and propelled herself forward with her huge, muscular legs in an effort to evade her pursuers.

The first bullet out of the gun followed the high pitched mechanism as the drum full of bullets began to rotate and each of the barrels began expelling its ammunition. The whole gun shook, vibrating through the man holding on for dear life, the swivel mount absorbing the rest in an effort to keep the helicopter steady. Bullets rained down on the forest, narrowingly missing the dinosaur they were chasing, the ground behind the escaping Indominus thrown up into the air with each impact.

“Hit the damn thing!” The pilot called out over the onboard intercom, fingers white from how hard he was gripping the flight stick.

The gunman pulled back as hard as he could, thumbs pressed into the triggers, bullets flying around wildly as he repositioned the gun a little higher. The tip of the barrels exploded with flashes of orange with every combustion behind the projectiles within, the drop from each bullet just missing the huge beast they were meant to kill. He ground his jaw in frustration, growling over the mic intercom in rage at how the bullets kept missing her, narrowly skimming the hocks of the huge, bipedal dinosaur.

“She’s too fast!” He cried out in frustration, the sound of the chopper blades punching through the air above his head barely audible back in the communications room. “Get in front of her!”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Ruby chanted, her head bouncing between the red dot on one screen and the camera feed of one of the crew on another.

“What?” David rushed forward toward the screen. “What is it?”

Mary Margaret sucked in a breath at the screen and David followed her line of sight. “She’s going for the helicopter.” The camera was grainy but it was clear enough to see the Indominus grind to a stop and crane her neck to look at the helicopter chasing her. She was watching it double back on itself, inevitably lowering its altitude as it did, the pilot unaware, but the camera on the gunman’s helmet catching the predatory look in the dinosaur’s eye.

“She can’t reach it, can she?” David asked quickly, tearing his eyes from the camera long enough to see the shock in Mary Margaret’s eyes.

“You should know,” Walsh’s voice echoed from the shadows. “You gave that whole dinosaur the green light. Didn’t you double check what the quack was putting into his test tubes?”

David ground his teeth and his fingers dug into the back of Mary Margaret’s chair. “I thought you’d left,” David spat, not taking his eyes off the scene playing out in front of him.

“And miss this?” Walsh sneered, peering over his shoulder. “It’s just getting good.”

“Ruby, warn them!” David instructed hastily, nudging his head towards the giant screen above them.

David had barely finished his command and Ruby was dragging her headset up from around her neck, repositioning it over her ear. She pulled herself forward, the wheels of her chair just narrowly missing Walsh’s feet, before almost screaming into the mic.

“ACU team 2, this is central control! You need to alter your altitude!” Ruby’s heart pounded in her chest, her eyes flicking to the screen where the Indominus even looked like she was contemplating the exact angle of attack.

“Control, this is ACU airborne, can you repeat? Over.”

“Oh, God,” Mary Margaret gasped. “They didn’t hear you.”

“Uh oh,” Walsh taunted with a whistle.

“Dammit,” David grunted, the hairs on his arms standing on end. He grabbed Mary Margaret’s headset off of her desk, gripping the mic stem between his shaking fingers and lifted it to his mouth. She didn’t even realise it but Mary Margaret had grabbed his arm, hooking her fingers into the crook on his elbow and was holding him so tightly to stop the shake in her own hands. “ACU Airborne, pull up! Pull up!”

David’s warning came too late, the echoing roar of the Indominus growing louder before it was followed by the crunching on metal and the backwards whirr of rotor blades under stress where the huge dinosaur had leapt into the air and bit clean through the tail section of the helicopter. The control room filled with the sound of screaming, the high pitched yelling and panic that flowed from the surround sound speakers indistinguishable from man or woman as many of them turning into pained gurgling. There was a scrambling, the mics muffled by each team member as they clambered for brace positions under their leaders instructions, those that hadn’t been crushed in the initial attack audibly puking in the wake of their comrades in pieces.

Mary Margaret gulped down a lump in her throat, her eyes paralyzed and unable to blink away the imagined demise of each team member as their vitals flatlined on the screen in front of her. Her fingers were digging into David’s arm so hard he was sure she would leave a mark, but he let her, almost one hundred percent sure he hadn’t heard her breathe for a few minutes. After what seemed like an age, he slipped out of her grip and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her to him and cupping his hand over her ear, trying his hardest to shield her from the horrific sounds.

“Mayday! Mayday!”

“We’re going down!”

“Help us! Lord, help us!”

The sound of yelling and the crunching of metal was drowned out by another screech from the dinosaur, the last images from the Captain’s body cam turning black inside of the Indominus' mouth when she clamped her jaws shut around the man. Tiny pinpricks of light danced across the image on the control room wall, spinning like bubbles in a washing machine as she chomped a few times, crushing the life out of the man who had once been sitting in the cockpit she had just ripped off mid flight.

A silence fell over the control room, static the only sound that everyone could hear coming from the two way communication. David relinquished his hold on Mary Magaret for a split second to turn off the radio comms with the now downed helicopter, a soft sniffle drawing his attention. Ruby had been crying and in the panic, as he looked around in the aftermath, it wasn’t just her. There wasn’t a dry eye in the entire room, employees consoling each other as if a hug would make everything that had just seen go away.

“Mr Nolan,” Ruby croaked with a watery voice.

“I know,” David assured her, stopping her from saying the words that she had to officially say. The rules be damned. David knew everyone was dead and he wasn’t about to make her say it.

“Well, looks like this thing really is unstoppable.” Walsh’s words were not even the least bit perturbed by the sounds he had heard or the images he had seen. The man had the gall to cross his arms over his chest and smile with glee, but that was soon laid to waste when, out of nowhere, David’s fist connected with his jaw, and the weasel of a man stumbled backwards.

“David!” Mary Magaret screeched, jumping to her feet so fast her chair toppled over when Nolan went in for a second strike, his clenched fist breaking Walsh’s nose with an audible crack.

“Son of a-,” Walsh cried, clutching his nose that was busy pouring with deep crimson blood.

“Those were good people!” David roared, looming over his hunched figure, Mary Margaret attempting to halt a third attack by hanging off his arm.

“We’re all good people!” Walsh shouted back, righting himself and squaring up to David and spitting blood onto the fabric of his shirt. “We all do things with the best of intentions, don’t we?” He cocked his head to the side, a blood stained grin accompanying his implication.

“This isn’t your fault,” Ruby offered to David with a snarl in Walsh’s direction.

“This isn’t your fault! This isn’t your fault!” Walsh parroted with a cocky grin. “God, aren’t you sick of your cheerleaders yet, Prince Charming?”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” David told the miserable man. “And I already told you once. The only way you’re going to set live raptors loose on this island is over my dead body.” David clenched his jaw at Walsh’s cocky smirk, his hand balling painfully at his side where he was sure he had split at least one knuckles because of the sting there.

“That won’t be entirely necessary,” Walsh announced, straightening up and running his tongue over the ridges of his blood soaked teeth. “You see,” he announced, sucking in a breath and closing the gap between him and David even more until their chests touched. “They say there is strength in numbers, which is good for you, because these two ragtag little groupies you’ve got going on here-,”

“Hey!” Ruby protested, matching Mary Margaret’s scowl.

“Oh, no offence,” Walsh nodded over David’s shoulder to the security guard stationed at the door, their matching sand coloured uniforms signaling their connection as he reached for the cuffs on his belt. “It’s real cute,” he said with a pout of his bottom lip. “But you know loyalty doesn’t cost a thing.”

“What the...What are you doing?” David demanded of the guard when his arm was wrenched awkwardly behind his back.

“At least not for me,” Walsh said out loud absentmindedly. “These guys are on your payroll.”

“You won’t get away with this,” Mary Margaret growled with a pink tinge to her cheeks from anger.

“Oh, honey, sit down before you break a nail,” Walsh spat, pushing past her and sending her crashing down into her seat.

The chair rolled backwards a little under her weight and the shy slip of a woman shrunk away from her previous bravado. David struggled against the guard’s hold, only caring that the brute of a man had decided it would be a good idea to touch a woman that he cared so much about. Despite his imposing height, the security guard was much bigger than David, and his opposition to his incapacity was futile.

“You’re going to regret that,” David spat through clenched teeth, shaking his shoulders in one more protest as he was hauled into the elevator.

Walsh sniggered arrogantly, making everyone in the comms room jump when he clapped his hands together as soon as the elevator doors slid closed with a ding. “Now that unfortunate matter has been seen to, and it gives me no pleasure to announce this, but the incapacitation of our fearless leader leaves me in charge as the highest ranking In-Gen official.”

Ruby made a sound in the back of her throat that sounded like she had thrown up in her own mouth and tried to swallow it.

“And our primary objective is to prevent further loss of life.” As if on cue, the elevator doors sounded its arrival again and the doors parted to reveal at least seven new men, all armed to the teeth with equipment and all sporting the ever fetching In-Gen sand coloured shirts. When they started pushing their way into the comms room and began setting up with bulky equipment without permission, it made Ruby’s emotions turn back into anger.

“Who are these guys?” she said with a sneer.

“I’m glad you asked,” Walsh replied without missing a beat. “You are all relieved of your duties,” he announced gleefully. “There’s a new team on the ground.”

“This is insane!” Ruby argued as a man she had never seen before plopped himself into her chair and tested the swivel action as if she wasn’t there. “You can’t do this!”

“So, without further ado,” he continued, ignoring her remark of disgust. “Let’s stop wasting money and kill this thing.”

Henry wasn’t sure if the sweat on his brow was from the exhilaration of driving on his own for so long, or from the humidity on the island. He had been driving for a while now but somewhere along his journey, and Henry was sure at which point, he had broken his watch. The face was permanently stuck on the time it had stopped, right about when Graham had thrown him off a cliff and into a river in order to save his life. He should have taken it off but it was a gift and even at his age, Henry was sentimental.

The Jeep was a bumpy ride, the old suspension as worn as it could have possibly been for a car that had been sitting, untouched in storage for over a decade. The ground underneath the almost still new tyres was even more uneven, damp and crumbly, making the wheels spin in the darkness of the forest, and as hard as rock in the open areas. The last time Henry has exited the woodland trail he has almost been bounced clean over the cracked windshield with the change in density of the track, only staying in situ because of his tight grip on the wheel.

Out in the daylight wasn’t a picnic either. Even without his watch, Henry could tell what time of day it was because of the blistering heat above him. The Jeep had no cover anymore, half of the leather having degraded overtime and the other half flying away in strips as he has floored it through the areas he knew were occupied by the more predatory dinosaurs. The sun had only got hotter, his clothes almost totally dry except from where he had perspired under his arms and down his back, so Henry knew it wouldn’t be long before the evening started to draw in.

The paddocks of Isla Nublar were not somewhere you wanted to be after dark.

The ground under the wheels suddenly turned to a more gravel like consistency and the Jeep rocked a little until it settled onto the new road. Henry slipped sideways in his seat and nearly toppled out, but he managed to grab on just in time to see the closed gate up ahead. Two huge rusted iron gates were blocking the path, years of erosion as well as bark like twines entangled in the brittle chains holding them together.

Barely visible through the leafless bindings was a danger sign for high voltage along the fence that Henry knew no longer existed, so, with a deep breath, he slammed his foot on the accelerator until it hit the floor. The engine roared in protest but the whole vehicle lurched forward, climbing the slight incline towards the huge, steel gates. Henry gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, and pinching his eyes closed as tightly as he could, prepared for impact.

The Jeep hit the steel gates but it barely slowed, the weather worn chain giving out almost instantly and freeing the gates from its hold. Henry heard them fly open and when the Jeep continued its forward momentum, Henry peeled one eye open to see the damage. There was none to him, and none to the vehicle, just a powdery cloud of dust in his wake from where the dead foliage had been busted apart. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Henry smiled, letting out his breath and releasing the gas a little.

“Woo!” He declared, drumming his hands on the steering wheel in celebration.

He was running on adrenaline and not much else, every snapping twig or rustle of leaves setting him on high alert. He strained to listed over the sound of the engine, eyes wide and pupils dilated as he continued to drive through what seemed like a never ending paddock. Anything could be there and, in all honesty, Henry wasn’t all that excited to find out what. He pressed his foot a little harder on the gas when the Jeep met a steep incline and as it crested the hill, Henry was relieved to see the familiar compound up ahead where he knew Killian and Liam trained the raptors.

“Open the gate!” Henry shouted but his voice was lost behind the sound of the car horn as he slammed his palm into the middle of the wheel. “Open the gate!” He called out again, relieved but still scared half to death. He would feel much safer on the other side of the huge concrete wall, that was for sure. “Come on, open the gate!”

Two security staff stationed on top of the wall over the gate entrance squinted to see the vehicle as it approached. One cocked his head to the side, clearly confused, and the other simply let his jaw drop open in shock. The whole island was on lock down and no one was supposed to be anywhere except in the main compound or at their assigned posts, so they shared a quick, confused glance.

“That’s a first,” one muttered.

“Mmm,” the other hummed in agreement.

“Do you think we should-,” the first offered but was quickly interrupted by the sound of footprints pounding along the metal high rise boardwalk behind them.

“Open the gate!” Liam yelled, his words bouncing on every step he took. The two guards shared another look, gripping their guns a little tighter. “Open the gate,” Liam repeated gruffly as he reached them. “That’s Henry,” he breathed, a wave of relief washing over him at the sight of the boy. “Call Emma,” he ordered. “Tell her we’ve found him.”

Killian had been almost unable to move Emma from the spot when she had witnessed the ACU helicopter going down and once he had moved her to the safety of the forest, in the opposite direction to the Rex, she suddenly wasn’t much for words. He knew she felt guilty, but no matter what he had said to her in the heat of the comms room argument, he knew she wasn’t to blame for any of this. In fact, Emma couldn’t have been furthest from the blame. She was just the face of the island, there to make sure tourists were happy, and like most others, including himself, she had no idea as to what was being cooked up in paddock 11.

Emma felt like the worst person in the entire world. She was trying to simultaneously run the park and raise her son, but somewhere along the way, she had lost sight of what mattered the most. Henry meant more to her than anything, she just hadn’t shown it much. She was ambitious, and it had been kind to her, but at what cost? Now where was she? Ankle deep in the middle of a forest, hiding her tears in the humidity that was slowly washing the dirt from her face.

A hand on her shoulder shook her from her guilty daydream, and she quickly wiped at her cheeks, flicking the moisture away from her face. Killian’s hand was warm, much warmer feeling because of the sheerness of her blouse, and she couldn’t help but shiver a little. She had been fighting her feelings for him, she knew that, and whether he meant to or not, he had managed to wriggle his way back into her heart.

“He’s going to be alright,” Killian told her as he gave her shoulder a squeeze. He swung one leg over the fallen tree Emma was perched on and let the rifle he was carrying slip from his shoulder. He rested it against the gnarled bark, ignoring the way the moss that was growing on top of it was dampening his pants, and sat back with hunched shoulders and a sigh.

“I know,” Emma sniffed, wiping her blouse sleeve over her cheeks.

“Hey, look at that,” Killian smiled warmly. “You believed me for once.”

Emma coughed out a short laugh and playfully swatted his chest, and action that made Killian lean even closer to her in an attempt to extend their contact. Emma let her hand linger on his chest, right where his shirt was partly open, and Killian felt his nipples harden when she brushed over a few of the glossy black chest hairs that peeked out from the shirt there. In a split second decision that would either go in his favour or get him slapped, Killian covered her hand with his, flattening her palm over his heart that had begun a beat of rapid fire in his chest.

Killian stared at her until, slowly, Emma looked up from watching his hand on hers. The tips of his ears flushed hot with adrenaline and he felt his lungs draw in a much deeper breath than before, the slight curl of Emma’s fingertips against his chest making him gasp inaudibly. She would have felt it, no doubt about it, and he pressed her hand harder to his shirt in an attempt to feel her through closer to his skin. Emma’s eyes finally met his, her lips dry from being slightly parted, and her throat dry where she had forgotten to swallow.

“Killian,-” she began, but unlike other times she had said his name, this was different.

“I just need to know one thing,” Killian said hoarsely, his own throat suddenly parched. Like a nervous schoolboy he dipped his head and let his other hand reach around Emma’s back where it began to smooth down the fabric of her blouse, his lips turning up into a cheeky grin. “How have you been able to run in those heels?”

Emma chuckled, the vibrations from her laugh shooting up Killian’s arm and embedding the sensation in his soul. Her hand slipped from his chest and he let he take it, the feel of her fingertips already like a brand on his skin from the one night they had spent together. Killian felt her whole body relax, which was his exact intention when he has so brazenly placed his hand on her back, and it hadn’t escaped his notice that this time, she hadn’t pulled away.

“I have just evolved beyond the need for stability that flat footwear gives you,” Emma smiled. “I’d recommend heels, but,” she leaned forward and pretended to squint at the bottom half of Killian’s legs whilst sucking in a long breath through her teeth. “I just don’t think you have the calves for it.”

Killian had no witty retort, just a single, deep, reverberating laugh that escaped his open mouth as he regarded her with humour in his eyes. His tongue traced the ridges of the teeth at the side of his mouth, and he tilted his head back a little at her comment, enjoying the way she was smiling back at him for the first time all day. His eyes flicked between hers and her lips, dry skin there begging to be kissed like he was the only hydration on offer for miles. Emma was the same, his oasis in a sandstorm, her lips coaxing him closer when she bit her bottom lip playfully, but with all of the will he had left, Killian refrained from following the urges of his own body and pulled his hand from where it lay on her back too.

Emma missed the contact, even if she was reluctant to admit it, and when Killian rubbed at his jean clad thighs and cleared his throat in an attempt to regain some composure, her eyes fell to his hands and his scars there. She had seen them before, the skin ridged and twisted from primitive stitching that she had no doubt he had probably tried to do himself because of his stubbornness. As she recalled, it had no impact on the way he used his hand, but she knew that he must be embarrassed by them because of the way he had always tried to hide them around her. As if on cue, Killian finished his eager rubbing of his thighs and tried to rearrange himself so that the offending hand could be tucked into his pockets.

“Wait,” Emma said suddenly, softly, her thoughts jumping to words and leaving her mouth without coherence when she reached for his hand in an attempt to halt his hiding. “I mean,-”

“It’s alright, love,” Killian smiled, offering her his scarred hand once more when she withdrew hers. “You’re inquisitive, and that’s alright.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just,” Emma began, unable to find the words she wanted. To hide her awkwardness she tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear and swallowed hard, cursing the humidity that had accented the red tint to her cheeks. “Which raptor did it?” She said finally, enclosing Killian’s had between both of hers and trailing her fingertips over the scars.

“What makes you think it was one of the raptors?” Killian asked her with an arched eyebrow.

“You leave your trailer for work and dating, and I haven’t heard about much of the latter lately,” she quipped.

“Ah, well, yes,” Killian agreed in his very British accent, his other hand reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “There was one that got away.” His scarred hand twisted and his fingers entwined themselves with hers, a wave of panic flooding over him when he thought she might pull away. She didn’t but was silent, unable to express herself over the huge chasm in her heart that someone had once made, one that stopped her communicating her feelings anymore. “It was Delta,” Killian said low, offering her a conversational relief. “I was stupid and, like and idiot, took my eye off the ball for a second.”

“How old was she?” Emma asked, seemingly more comfortable with the new conversation.

“Only a few weeks old,” Killian uttered, remembering the moment vividly. He had thought it a good idea to offer Delta a dead rat from the same hand he had just used to feed one of the other raptors, getting complacent and neglecting to wash his hands between feedings. The young raptors had been fed separately at first, to allow Killian to assess the best way they would integrate into a pack, but caught up in the excitement of his new job, he had forgotten protocol and gave Delta a rat from a hand that smelled of the very food he was offering. “It wasn’t her fault,” he assured her. “But it reminded me of what kind of animals we are dealing with on this island.”

Emma moved her hand towards her lap and pulled Killian’s with it. He let her, the sting of nervous sweat glands under his armpits unnoticed in the still wet patches of damp from the island’s heat. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you,” Emma told him whilst tracing the lines of scars on his palm. “If I had, maybe this dinosaur would be dead by now.”

Killian shook his head. “It is I who should apologise, love. I should never have yelled at you.”

“Damn right!” Emma teased, gripping his hand harder.

“You do realise you’ve agreed with me twice in the same conversation now?” Killian retorted with a smirk.

Emma just nodded, that stray strand of hair falling forward with the motion of her head once again. Killian moved his hand quicker than she could, smoothing his weathered fingers over the curve of her ears as he tucked it back into place, his thumb completing his move as it stroke her ear lobe. Again, Emma didn’t recoil at his touch and he felt the muscles of her throat swallow when he plucked a piece of tree bark from the rest of the hair behind her ear. The smile of her face was infectious and Killian mirrored it, but before either of them had a chance to say anything else, Emma’s phone rang and they startled apart.

She scrambled for the device she had tucked into her bra and Killian averted his eyes as she did so, only looking back when he heard her answer.

“Liam? What is it? What’s going on?” Emma said hurriedly, pushing herself to her feet and stalking away from the log they were sitting on.

Killian couldn’t hear what Liam was saying, but when she turned to face him, Emma’s face paled and he almost had to rush to support her when she threatened to topple in front of him. Her eyes welled up, pupils dilated so much that there was almost none of the honey green glaze left for him to see. He watched her chest heave before she thanked her friend and hung up, sniffing and wiping her eyes again just as he reached her, unable to bring himself to ask for the news he didn’t really want to hear.

“Is it Henry?” Killian pried delicately, gently holding her elbow.

All Emma could do was cover her mouth and nod, eyes pinching closed as more tears fell. Without a second thought, Killian pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly like he wished he had done that night. Words unspoken told him said she was thankful and that she needed his embrace more than she was letting on, so he just stood there in the soaking humidity of the island and held her. Emma’s hands found his biceps and she seemed to hold on there, her face buried into his chest and every breath inhaling him as she sobbed.

“He’s alive,” Emma sighed, her words muffled by Killian’s shirt.

“I told you,” Killian smiled, pressing his lips to the side of her temple and squeezing her a little tighter with his own relief. “I knew it, the lad is smart, resourceful,-” Killian began as she pulled away but Emma had other ideas when she wrapped her arms around his neck, stretched up on her toes and cut him off with a kiss.

There was no way that Killian could stop his reaction this time, not even if he had wanted to. Emma’s initiation gave him the green light, a wordless agreement from her that finally, after all this time and all of his patience, she was ready to validate his feelings. He cupped her face in his hands, her bottom lip still quivering from her emotional news, something Killian hoped he could soothe as he tilted his head and their lips slanted against each other in a whole new direction and made her moan.

Killian couldn’t stop the growl that escaped his throat when he pushed against her mouth and she pushed back, her fingers digging into the hair at the base of his neck despite its wetness and clutching hard, making him suddenly realise where they were. He had to push his feelings aside, despite his body’s reactions to the way Emma had flattened herself to him, every curve of her deliciously distracting as she writhed against him.

“Emma,” Killian mumbled against her mouth when she pulled his face back to hers when as tried to pull away. “Emma, love…”

“I’m sorry,” Emma breathed, gasping for breath. “I...I’m,-”

“I know.” Killian smiled warmly, thumbing the corner of her mouth. “Let’s get you reunited with your lad, alright?”

“You’re right,” Emma nodded, pulling herself from his arms and licking her lips. “Come on,” she told him with a pat to his chest as she breezed past him on her way back to the car they had left through the trees. “We can wait.”

Distracted by retrieving his gun, Killian hadn’t registered what she meant at first, but as soon as he did, he stood bolt upright only to watch her disappear through the broadleaved foliage. “Wait, what?”

#cs ff #cs au #cs jw au #jw au #lfaw #love finds a way #Jurassic world au #ch 7 #captain swan #mutual pining #kinda

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squidpro-quo · 6 years ago

Text

Elemental Experimentation

A/N: This is my piece for the @avatarbaang! I worked with the lovely @dejavidetc and the majestic @ladvy as artists and with the amazing @rosieclark and the wonderful @thelosthero as betas!

I hope you enjoy it!

It didn’t happen on purpose, Zuko swore later. Personally, he felt like blaming the others for all of it, with their damned openness that he doesn’t know how to deal with, and Uncle for his doggedly discerning teaching over the years. But in the end, blaming the others wouldn’t change what happened so he’s got no one to point fingers at except himself.

He didn’t notice the first time. It was only a training session with Aang, the usual constant tug-of-war between distractions and the forms they were supposed to be practicing. One moment they were working their way through the dragon’s dance and the next Aang was wreathed in the smoke pouring from his hands.

He wiggled his fingers, creating whirls in the grey wisps that were sublimating off of him, forgetting all notions of practice immediately. Zuko opened his mouth to call him back to attention but he couldn’t deny the ache of their exercise settling across his shoulders and maybe a break would do them both good.

Aang didn’t look up from his new-found skill of imitating a coalstack and instead turned to that age-old futile task: catching smoke with his hands. Settling down on one of the logs surrounding their training area, Zuko watched with head propped on hand and prepared to be amused.

He remembered how much such a thing had frustrated him, almost a decade ago, when he’d attempted the forms he was meant to be mastering and produced nothing but discolored smoke and not the smallest lick of flame. It had been disheartening, a sign of his failure and a mark of ridicule. Something he couldn’t control.

Aang brought his hands together, collecting the smoke between them with slight gusts of air. Zuko supposed it was fitting that an airbender would be one who could step over the line of what was possible. He recognized the way Aang’s eyes narrowed, the crook of his fingers as he slowly brushed the wisps of pale grey in the direction he wanted. Concentration furrowed itself across Aang’s brow until he was scrunching his face up so much Zuko had to wonder if he could even see what he was doing. A snort escaped him just as a swirling ring formed between Aang’s hands.

“Zuko, look! I did it!” Aang bounded over to him, the gently rotating loop of smoke almost blown away by the speed of his steps but he somehow managed to keep it intact. “Now if I add rocks…”

“This is firebending practice, not earth or airbending practice,” Zuko muttered, knowing already that he wasn’t going to chase after Aang. Perhaps this would simply have to be a lesson in control or precision or some other tenet that he could use to justify skipping the rest of the day’s drills.

As Aang set to work on whirling the small pebbles he’d pulled up out of the ground and adding them to the stream of smoky air, Zuko glanced down at his own hands. He’d never tried producing smoke on purpose, and he had a sudden itch to give it a try.

It was an odd sensation to do something wrong on purpose, especially something he’d worked so hard to do right in the first place. The familiar warmth that came with firebending tickled his fingertips as he tried to keep the fire repressed without tamping it down entirely. The smell came first, surprisingly, of something burning before a thick plume of smoke rose from his palm.

He passed his other hand through it, finding a slight heat to the haze as if it rose from a real campfire. It was unexpectedly relaxing, nothing like the anxiety of seeing it when he was a child.

Curling his fingers in the way he’d seen Aang do, he concentrated on the warmth that radiated with the smoke and felt it flicker in response. He almost closed his hand in surprise, the column of grey stuttering from his shock before it billowed out again when he called it forth. The more he focused on the way it languidly rose through the air, the more he could feel its shape in his mind, the currents that ran through it. It was perhaps the oddest thing he’d ever felt, the way it almost mimicked fire with its flickers and unpredictability.

He tried pulling it back in, to contain it, but the smoke dissipated into nothing. Curious now, he glanced over at where Aang was poking holes in his own insubstantial smoke with miniscule rocks, grinning all the while.

Watching the Avatar, Zuko let out a contemplative sigh. There was something to be said of experimenting, of taking detours and tangents, of having some fun with it. Puffing out his cheeks, he sought to find that hazy warmth again and blew. Smoke passed from his lips in streams, speckled with embers glowing in the shadow of the trees. He almost inhaled before thinking to breathe through his nose instead, wary of coughing from his own creation.

Seeing the way it wove through the air in curlicues and ethereal strands, a burst of elation rose inside him along with it. Now to see what he could do with it.

Taking a deep breath, he puffed out another bout of smoke and tried to channel Aang, to channel his sense of fun. There was nothing Aang couldn’t twist into a game or a wild ‘adventure’.

Zuko held still in case a stray movement messed up the process and as the smoke rose in front of him, he tweaked its path through the air. Just small nudges, it barely felt like he was doing anything with how gossamer thin the connection felt but it slowly drifted into shapes that might pass for a fat turtleduck, or a fire ferret.

He was just easing the fin on a sea serpent into place when he felt Aang’s eyes on him.

“Let’s have a contest! I want to try a lotus flower or maybe a Kiyoshi frowny face!” Aang’s exuberant shout was at odds with the way he slowly lowered himself in a crouch opposite Zuko. His grey eyes traced the edges of the smoky shapes and his trademark open-mouthed smile slid onto his face.

The training session was well and truly foiled by now, Zuko wasn’t even going to deny it. But maybe it was a mark of how much Uncle had affected him over the years that he stubbornly clung onto the idea of teaching through any means possible. It had worked on him, eventually, so why not on the Avatar himself? “You can practice your breathing while you do and don’t bend any other elements,” he ordered. Despite it all, he was already thinking of whether he could make a dragon out of smoke before the call for dinner came.

~*~

Zuko didn’t expect to find Toph in his mother’s old garden, leaning against the collapsing corner of the south wall with her meteorite bracelet tracing lazy shapes into the air in front of her. The sun spilled over the broken bricks beside her onto the only patch of green in the entire yard, a clump of weeds with bright pink flowers and spiny leaves.

“Hey hothead, your garden needs some serious work.” The comment was punctuated with a heel dug sharply into the dust at her feet. Stepping over the rocky outcropping that had sprung up in front of him, Zuko took a seat next to her and looked down at the bay just visible through the break in the wall.

“I’ll let my mom know about it when I find her,” he said, wondering if she’d even want to come back here. He had a handful of good memories, but even the one of this garden was hazy as smoke and just as hard to grasp. “If you wanted to remodel some parts of the house, feel free. Or demodel even.”

Toph grinned, sliding her feet across the ground, as a pillar rose up in the center of the yard and resolved itself into the shape of her in a triumphant pose, complete with boulder hefted in her hand.

“My contribution for when she gets back, a statue of the real Melonlord gracing her garden.” Grabbing her still-twisting bracelet from the air, she stretched it between her fingers like sticky taffy. “What was it like? When you met the dragons?”

Zuko fell silent at the sudden question and found himself staring at the stone Toph’s large belt buckle and interestingly defined muscles. He’d almost have thought it looked like the Ember Island Player’s version of Toph, buff and tall despite the reality sitting next to him. She was larger than life in many ways, but sometimes it was startling to remember she was really only twelve.

“Why do you ask?” he finally hedged, if only to have more time to figure out how to put it into words. He’d been speechless then too and nothing had changed since, how did you describe what they’d seen or what they’d felt?

“I guess I want to know if they were like the badgermoles. They didn’t speak to me, but I felt like I knew what they meant when they moved the earth and shook the core of the mountain.”

The badgermoles… He’d heard of them, had considered them to be legend until now like the dragons and sky bison were, but he’d been wrong about those too. Running his hand along the sunset-goldened terracotta beneath them and feeling the warmth they still leaked, he thought of the solemnity he and Aang had faced, and the momentary panic at the zenith of the mountain facing such ancient beings, and the colors of the fire that had surrounded them.

“The dragons were the same, they showed us what they wanted us to see.” He looked over at her and sighed, kneading his forehead as he wracked his brain for some way to make his words make more sense. “I mean, like all the different things fire can be.”

“Besides fire? Last I checked you still can’t bend lightning like your psycho sister,” Toph said, drumming her feet against the brick wall and sending tremors along the foundation in a steady beat.

Her bracelet lay between her fingers, odd spikes and whorls jumbled together into a mess of a shape. Reaching out, he paused before he touched it.

“I’ll try to show you.” He poked the sharp end of a spike, gingerly. “With this.”

Toph passed it over, barbs and all.

“It needs to be flat.”

Spreading out her fingers like she was pressing down a scroll or the pages of a book, Toph bent the metal into a sheet as thin as paper. Zuko looked along the edge, discreetly seeing if it would bend, but it remained as straight as an arrow.

Placing it on his knees, he held up a finger and focused on the sun warming his back, the waning strength that nevertheless burned all the same. A jet of fire appeared at the tip of his index finger, red as the crushed bricks beneath his shoes.

That was good enough to start.

He’d never been an artist but drawing on metal with only a pinch of fire turned out to be easier than he’d expected. It burned a clean trail across the sheet, turning from a curling half-moon to a jagged squiggle. Concentrating, he pushed the heat higher, hotter, until it turned from red to a brighter orange and seared the metal in a line of sizzling sparks.

Toph leaned closer, face turned toward her statue while she held the edge of the plate in her hand.

“I can tell there’s a difference,” she muttered, voice as hushed as he’d ever heard it.

Zuko took that as his cue to keep going. Careful to angle the flame away from her, he slowly pulled in a breath as he sought to raise the temperature even more. Azula could do it without breaking a sweat, he could remember their teachers’ excited and awed whispers when she’d first turned her flame blue, the sign of a true prodigy. The flame wavered at a clear orange, before finally tipping over into a pale purple bordering on white. It bit into the metal with an audible hiss, scorching the metal into patterns that glowed in the afterimage of its sizzling wake.

By now, he’d abandoned the jet of flame and instead drew with a searing corona haloing his finger, pressing it against the metal like he was fingerpainting. He could feel the heat in the metal, both from touch and as a fire encased underneath the surface, seething inside the sheet and a hairsbreadth from his control.

A thought rocked him back on his mental heels as he realized the similarity to how Toph had once explained her discovery of metalbending. Seeking out the element, in whatever form or shape it took and reaching out for it, bending the edges of what people thought was possible. That was Toph’s modus operandi in the end. He wondered how close metalbending and firebending could get, how thin the line was that separated them and if this was what Aang meant about the balance that he felt between all of the elements.

“I like it.” Toph broke the silence, pulling Zuko from his reverie as he lifted steaming fingers away from the design now marked on the asteroid metal’s surface. He couldn’t capture what the dragonfire had looked like exactly, but then again that wouldn’t do Toph any good anyway. But the harshly etched lines were formed from what he’d learned from them, the range of color and heat that fire could present and the control it took to keep the flame inside you.

“I mean, you’re not Aang-level, have you seen his noodle portrait of Ozai?” Toph continued, “That’s talent. But you got a spark, hothead, I get what you were going for.”

Zuko looked down at the burned lines and handed the sheet back to her, shaking his hand in an effort to cool it back to normal. As soon as she touched it, the metal rolled up into a scroll and wrapped itself around her forearm in a wide band, the edges of a deep groove showing along its face.

She ran her fingers along the burn ridges and smiled, huffing out a laugh before socking him in the shoulder.

“You still owe me a fieldtrip, don’t forget.”

“Yeah, I know.” He glanced at the statue again, before nudging her back.

“Shouldn’t you have made that boulder a melon?”

“Good point, hothead, I’m on it.”

~*~

The next time wasn’t as lighthearted of an occasion. His fingers were growing numb as he watched Katara pull the girl, little more than a child, over the edge of the ice floe and into their boat.

It had started as an excursion to show him ‘how the water tribe has a good time’ and went downhill from there faster than if you’d used an otter penguin as a sled. Sokka’s reassurances of how often he and Katara had gone out on their own before they met Aang did nothing to reassure Zuko. With that much water around, he thought his nervousness was rather warranted.

And he’d been right. Two hours in and the only thing they’d fished out was a child who looked on the verge of death.

“Zuko, hold still. You’re making the boat shake.” Katara’s voice was as calm as ever, steady as the ocean and just as unwavering. Her hands traced the girl’s body and pulled water out of the furs and cloth that bristled with frost. The face hidden under the hood was a sickly ashen brown, the lips purpling amidst shallow breaths.

Zuko grabbed hold of the boat’s sides, struggling to come up with something to do. He could only watch as Katara took the extracted water and blanketed her hands in it before trying to heal the girl with an expression that defied resistance. A familiar glow spilled over the worn wood of the boat, flickering in synchrony with Katara’s graceful curl of her hand from the girl’s brow down to her feet.

Katara was the embodiment of the dichotomy between water and ice, how it could turn from something that gave life to something that could steal it away just as insidiously, always with the same gentle but unwavering force. She could turn what flowed from her hands to protect and fight to something that slipped inside your body to heal or to hurt. She refracted as much as the surface of a stream, deeper than it looked.

But the crease along her brow only deepened.

“I can’t heal what’s not damaged. We need to get back to the village,” she finally declared, looking up at him with a gaze that could chisel rock. “Watch her, I’ll steer.”

Zuko didn’t argue, only shifted his weight forward until he sat next to the girl in the middle, leaving the stern free for Katara to stand up in and spread out her arms.

As the boat lurched forward with the swell of a wave spread out behind them, Zuko checked the girl’s breathing. It was alarmingly shallow, with her skin as cold as shadowed marble. Wrestling his way out of his parka, he laid it over her and hoped the layer of fur would do some good. Unfortunately, it wasn’t as thick of a coat as it could have been; after the Boiling Rock, he’d found it was easier to endure lower temperatures as long as he conserved his energy. And sitting around in a boat hardly counted as exercise.

Gingerly resting a hand on the girl’s head, he tried to imagine how Katara would do it, how she managed to fix what could not be seen. His first attempt produced a sweaty palm inside his glove but nothing more. It did no good for him to be warm unless he could share it with her as well. Heating up the air around her would do no good either, not with the breeze blowing by as they sliced through the frigid sea waves.

It was a foolhardy idea but he’d always gone for those anyway. It was almost his trademark.

Taking his glove off, he held his palm an inch away from the front of the girl’s parka and pictured the way Katara moved. He’d seen her do it hundreds of times now, had felt it when she healed his own wounds too, but what paltry comparison was that to truly knowing how to do it, and being able to.

His fingers grew cold and stiff as he focused on what felt stupid and most of all impossible.Containing the spark inside his own body, protected from the outside and unquenchable, was different than to kindle it in someone else’s.

He wanted to close his eyes, keep himself from seeing his own clumsy movements, but he thought of new forms and old advice. The first motion was too fast, rushed and embarrassed. On the second attempt, he forced himself to slow down, to keep each awkward jerk of his hand as he watched himself play pretend. By the third, he could feel the drag of a current against his fingers, of something catching in the girl’s body and drifting with him for just an instant, numbing the tips of his fingers in just that instant. Her peaceful face reminded him of Azula’s, when she’d been young enough to sleep peacefully.

The fourth time, he searched for the snag that he’d felt before and gently pulled it up to the surface from her core deep inside, coaxing it slowly from its kernel with a promise of returned warmth. Starting from the forehead and down to her wrapped fur boots, he pushed the cold away inch by inch in waves of as gentle a heat as he could muster, the tendons in his fingers aching from the tension of fine control and the energy draining from him. His thoughts narrowed to the glowing current from the girl’s body he thought he could sense, spreading like a river when it widens down her limbs in a warm flow of heat.

The boat bumped into the jetty with enough force to throw him against the side and jarred his concentration into scattered embers as the girl was lifted out of the boat and carried away by a team of healers and who could only be her parents. Zuko waited until his balance felt ready for dry land, or as dry as it could be in the south pole, and stepped onto the dock in a daze.

A hand across his back and Katara’s face swam into view in front of him, smiling even as she steadied him.

“Takes a lot out of you, huh? I’ve been there,” she said, pulling his arm across her shoulders and leading him back towards the tent they had been staying in. “How does it feel to steal my moves?”

“You can have them back, they don’t fit me very well,” he muttered, eyes straining to stay open against the fatigue settling into his bones. It had crept up on him, too immersed in what he’d been trying to do to see what he was using up in the effort, and now Katara’s hand across his own felt like the faintest of pressures while a swarm of scorpion bees seemed to prick at his numb skin.

She’d helped him like this once before, the night he’d fallen to Azula for the last time and had risen from there to Firelord. It had been thanks to her that he still breathed the sooty air of a burning city and saw his sister’s descent into crazed anger. He’d thought he knew what effect his choice to join the Avatar had had, but he’d been wrong, been blind to what they taught him, to what they changed in him, to what they made him see more clearly. And it happened more times than just what he can clearly remember, it happened during the travels on Abba, during silly antics and the scrapes that they got into, in the little moments and the hidden ones. And Uncle would have been proud.

“Maybe once you sleep this off, I can give you a lesson or two on what not to do.”

They stepped over the threshold into the room with fire-warm furs inside and his nod was lost to the covers of the bed, Aang’s excited questions failing to penetrate his hearing as he blinked up at the ceiling.

“It’s harder than it looks,” was all he managed to say before he fell into an exhausted slumber.

#theavatarbaang #zuko #katara #toph #aang #My writing #finally wrote something for avatar and it only took 10 years #my childhood can rest happily now

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amazildoessomethingstupid · 5 years ago

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Chapter 96: Unspoken Rule

Man I thought it would be a lot longer before I did another of these, but as it turns out I fucking hate in between pages. Y’know, those pages between the actual good and interesting shit? Y’know the parts that are in between the fun parts, but you have to have them to actually move characters to the good parts? The parts that are boring and filler? Yeah as an artist/writer I hate those too and it took me most of the week to come up with a page to make it not boring as sin. Sadly this means, ANOTHER RANT! And this time we are taking a look at Unspoken Rule. But before we do, I’d like to share with you the bit of panic that set in and what kind of pressure I had on me when trying to force an update. For a second I thought that this rant was going to be about…

And I was very, very, scared.

Thankfully a friend notified me that I don’t know how to count, so we’re talking about this chapter instead! Boy what a relief that was, I thought. But it seemed a bit disappointing. I hadn’t heard anything of this page, seems like it’ll be a short rant. That won’t do. So I figured, “hey if there’s not much to say. Fuck it, we’ll do a double feature with the carnival…”

Sadly, I have something to say.

And we start with a good lighthearted joke. Although, that expression in the first panel throws it off a bit. The dialogue on the initial read says snark and sassy, but the face says honest concern, but then we show it is snarky. So the face is just, confusing. Not worth kicking up a fuss about, but definitely a headscratcher.

Anyway, on to what’s actually happening. Which is Mike is being nervous and back and forth about wanting to talk to Lucy and apologize. And it’s so weird to me. This is such a serious plot point, and major conflict in the story, yet this is played for laughs. And not even good laughs, just hollow jokes it feels almost tasteless. But not as tasteless as this:

BIG OOF

Alright guys, see this?

I am absolved of this being uncharacteristically brash and open. If Taeshi can do that kind of rudeness, so can I. Lucy is just so cold now, it feels bad. Not out of character, not unrealistic, just…bad.

But moving from that, we get into these two. And…

Awww…th-this is actually pretty sad. And engaging.

HEY! I SEE YOU REACHING FOR MY HEARTSTRINGS! YOU STAY THE FUCK AWAY!

But seriously, this a very nice scene. It’s kind of touching, and it’s a moment I wish we had more of.

It’s…actually very nice. The characters are finally airing their grievances, and we’re getting somewhere. I…I actually like th-

OH YOU BACKSTABBING, HACK WRITING, BITCH! ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!

WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?! WHY ARE YOU STICKING YOUR DICK IN A GAS STATION MILKSHAKE?! BITCH,

ARE YOU FUCKING F’REAL SHAKES RIGHT NOW?! WHY ON EARTH WOULD YOU FEEL THE NEED TO ADD THAT?! THIS JUST DESTROYS ALL IMMERSION, I ALMOST FELT SOMETHING THERE FOR A SECOND! BUT THEN YOU HAD TO DO SOMETHING SO DUMB! THIS ISN’T EVEN ON THE CHARACTER, THIS IS A STRAIGHT UP WRITING ISSUE! EVEN I WOULDN’T DO SOMETHING THIS DUMB! IT’S SO OUT OF PLACE! IT GIVES ME MENTAL WHIPLASH CAUSE I HAVE TO DO A DOUBLE TAKE TO MAKE SURE I’M NOT JUST FUCKING SEEING SHIT! AND YOU KNOW WHAT’S THE WORST PART ABOUT THIS FUCKING PANEL?!

IT’S IN THE PRINTED BOOK! Taeshi saw this, drew it, posted it, and got whatever feedback from it. Then later came back, saw it, and edited a bunch of things for the book, and decided, “No that’s fine. We’ll leave it there, that’s perfectly okay.” And just left it there! WHY?! You had a good scene, an actual honest to god, good scene. And you had to just make a dumb joke, and ruin the whole mood. This is the sort of bad run and gun cheap gag sort of shtick that you’d expect to see from Volume 1! Except, even Volume 1 knew when to take itself seriously, and maintain that serious tone! I mean imagine if this happened in something like Zach’s talk with Lucy.

Any good graces this scene had, in setting up these two working out their problems and moving in a nice direction is thrown out the window now, and for what?! What’s the purpose? Why would yo-

Oh…Oh no…

Please, have mercy! You already stabbed my back, please don’t stab me in the heart! Please, not like this!

Aaaugh, no! Not like this! Poor Rachel! It’s not fair I can’-

Wait….

I-is…Is that it?

Are you kidding me?

That’s it? Two pages? Really? That’s how you’re breaking it off? This is how you’re going to stab me? Look, there’s like 3 more inches left in the knife, come on. Push it deeper. Twist it, I know you want to. WHY ARE YOU HOLDING BACK? FUCKING WORK THIS SCENE AND MAKE ME CRY!

NO FUCK YOU, WE’RE NOT MOVING PAST THIS!

YOU WROTE RACHEL’S BREAK UP. IN

TWO

FUCKING

PAGES!?

YOU WROTE OUT ONE OF THE MOST GROUNDED, HEALTHY, PRODUCTIVE RELATIONSHIPS IN YOUR COMIC IN TWO PAGES LIKE IT WAS NOTHING! WITH A HORRIBLE ONE-SIDED DIALOGUE, WHERE RACHEL IS TALKING TO PAULO WHO HAS SUDDENLY INHERITED THE EMPATHY AND UNDERSTANDING OF A BRICK WALL! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT AFTER EVERYTHING YOU DID IN BUILDING THIS CHARACTER’S ENTIRE ARC AND DEVELOPMENT!? AFTER TRANSFORMING A CHARACTER WHO WAS PORTRAYED AS UNLIKABLE, BITCHY, ANNOYING, SLUTTY, AND DUMB.

To fleshing her out, to be deep, thoughtful, caring, and supportive. Rachel is my favorite character, and it’s not because she’s a slut it’s because she represented something in this comic that had been absent.

Natural character development. That wasn’t brought on by some big event shaking their entire core, and changing them. In fact, one of the best things about Rachel is that despite how differently her character’s reception is from Volume 6 compared to Volume 1, her personality, her attitude, and her core is mostly unchanged.

She’s still slutty, she’s overweight, she’s silly. But a big part of why I love her as a character, and why I think many others do as well, is because never does it seem to be a negative to her. We don’t see her get upset, or self-conscious about her weight, or her sexual behavior, because she’s confident in herself and accepts herself. Not only that, but she’s shown to take charge, stand up and not be afraid to call out what she sees is wrong. And outside of her character…

She was a role model for Paulo. Unlike Jasmine whose relationship was more Paulo bending himself to fit her lifestyle, Rachel was a character who accepted and supported Paulo’s lifestyle, but at the same time helped steer him to do the right thing. And in a comic where almost every fucking character is so intent on dancing around their issues and waiting until it blows up in their face, Rachel served as an example of someone who had it together. A proactive person, who didn’t want to see these characters get worse.

I have ranted and gone off on a lot of decisions and actions that these characters have done, but not once did I ever scratch my head or think twice about something that Rachel did. Her character didn’t need a bunch of insight, and excuses about hormones or “they’re teenagers, lol!” to understand her. She simply was who she was, and I respect that.

In short…

Despite everything that my history with this comic gave me, the feelings I developed from all the bullshit that has happened in this story, despite all of that. It was this one character, what she brought to the table, and what she did for the comic and its characters, that gave me something I thought I’d long lost, and never thought I’d ever regain.

She gave me hope in this comic. That it would finally have its characters be proactive, regain its humor, and bring itself out of the slump it made for itself. With this character, and the writing behind her, I believed Taeshi was finally on the right track, and was setting up something great that would grow the characters and build upon them naturally.

But that’s not what we got. And the real bitch of it is, this could’ve been a real emotional moment. A well executed front-stab. We knew it was coming, we saw the writing on the wall, but we still needed to face the music. It was set up to be a wonderful tragedy, where both parties are well aware of the futility of their relationship. They understand each other, and why it won’t work, but also don’t want to let go. And I was going to make a comparison to Two Kinds, because they had a similar scenario with Trace’s wife and the whole idea of moving on is a recurring theme… But looking back I realized something. I don’t need to bring a comparison to Two Kinds or someone else’s comic, and no I’m not even going to draw a comparison of what I would’ve done in this situation by drawing a comparison to False Idol’s future scene (although I was thinking about that). No, we don’t need to look too far because you know what the real sad part about this is?

We’ve had this conversation before.

And just look at it. Look how heartbreaking this is. This is how it should’ve been. You see that Paulo understands what she’s saying, he knows what she means and how bittersweet their relationship is. It is one of the best moments from the newer volumes, and their inevitable breakup should’ve been a turning point. It should’ve marked a big life-changing moment for Paulo. Where he is sad about how he’s making Rachel feel, but he’s unsure about his own feelings. Maybe Rachel makes the decision for him and breaks it off, and Paulo realizes how hurtful his behavior is, and that he can’t play games with people anymore, that it’s not fair. It could be the moment Paulo turns a new leaf and becomes more mature, and in seeing that; Rachel can let go taking some solace in knowing that he is a better person now.

But instead we got this…

We’re not even halfway through this god damn chapter. Well where is it taking us now?

Huh…and it seems that the writing is not going to change pace either, I wonder where this is going.

Oh boy, everyone’s getting into teams! And oh man, Lucy’s going up against Mike! And boy is this contrived. And what’s even worse, is that despite how much Taeshi has shunned Volume 1 and its stupid sense of humor, and how shoddy it was. Volume 1 wasn’t THIS contrived, and when it was, it was pretty tongue in cheek about it. In fact!

This sounds like something Volume 1 would MAKE FUN OF. But let’s give the benefit of the doubt maybe it’s not that bad. It might have something going on, an-

(It’s interesting, I think I have like 3 reaction pics of Sam trying to shoot herself, but this one just can not be matched. And it’s not even meant for the rants.)

You know what? I’m not even gonna bother going over this part. No one will be seated during the harrowing “Will they won’t they” inconsequential dodgeball fight. Although I will say,

Not gonna lie, that actually got a laugh out of me. Good job. Anyway, Lucy catches the ball and wins the game who cares. But then…

First of all

Look at those arms. Damn Lucy what happened? You’re looking like two toothpicks in a marshmallow. But more than that. Did I read that right?

Yeah! It’s not like you stopped practicing Martial Arts! Why would you? It’s not like you had some serious physical trauma happen to stop you-

OH WAIT!

RECOVERY PERIOD? PHYSICAL THERAPY? PFFFT WHO THE FUCK NEEDS THAT? YEAH SURE, YOU’RE TOTALLY FINE AND CAPABLE BEING A FUCKING BLACK BELT IN TAE KWON DO. SURE! NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE STITCHES AM I RIGHT?

But I’m just combing cotton here, this all just fluff. There’s really only one thing left to talk about here.

And I’ll be honest.

This.

Is…

Pretty good.

This is honestly really well done. There’s nothing I can say about this. It’s a very serious moment, I can feel Taeshi reaching for my heartstrings but I…I’m okay with it. This was the moment I wanted to see. Finally these characters air out some of their grievances. We get insight to how they feel, we are finally getting somewhere. It’s not nice, but it’s progress an-

…

THAT’S THE TH-….

*sigh*

Fuck you too, Taeshi.

Three times.

Three fucking times in one chapter, that you set up something good. Had a good thing going, and then decided to fuck it up at the end. That’s a new record. Even when I expected nothing out of this chapter, you manage to let me down. You astound me with how much you disappoint me. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were doing it to intentionally troll me. But I’m not that vain. Fuck you Taeshi, I’ve said this before but always with the tone of hyperbole, and a bit of optimistic cynicism. But this time I really mean it. I have no more faith in you as a writer. Whatever you come up with, however this ride ends. I don’t think you will pull it off anymore. I don’t think you have the competence to tie this up in a proper way. At one point you could’ve. At one point, I think you had it in you with the mindset, the creativity, and the emotional drive to tell a well-crafted story. But not anymore, and I despise what you’ve become. Let’s get this stupid chapter over with.

What’s next? What are we doing huh? What are we getting at?

Oh…

I see. This is where we’re going huh? That’s what all this was for?

ALRIGHT! Y’KNOW WHAT? FINE! I GUESS THIS IS WHAT WE’RE DOING BOYS! THIS IS THE NEW DIRECTION FOR BCB! LOOK! SHE CALLED PAULO CUTE! OMG THE SHIP IS SAILING, DON’T YOU GET IT? IT’S JUST SHIPPING! THAT’S ALL THAT MATTERS! THAT’S HOW WE’RE DRIVING THE PLOT!

FUCK ALL THAT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT, THIS IS WHY RACHEL GOT DROPPED! IT WASN’T CAUSE OF CHARACTERS NATURALLY CONCLUDING RELATIONSHIPS, IT’S ALL BECAUSE LUCY’S HERE AND WE CAN’T HAVE PAULO’S RELATIONSHIP WITH RACHEL CLASH WITH THAT! SHE’S OUTLIVED HER USEFULNESS! NOW IT’S ALL ABOUT PAULO X LUCY, OR PAULO X DAISY WHICH IS IT? THIS IS THE REAL DRAMA YOU ALL ARE LOOKING FOR! THIS IS HOW WE REALLY MOVE THE PLOT AND CHARACTERS! CHOO CHOO BOYS! ALL ABOARD THE SHIP! LET’S JUST GO ALONG FOR THE RIDE WHERE WE GOING TAESHI? I’M READY! I DON’T HAVE ANYTHING LEFT TO FUCKING LOOK FORWARD TO OR LIVE FOR! SO COME ON, WHERE ARE YOU SAILING US?

I give it a 2/10. Until next time, guys.

#Bittersweet Candy Bowl #rant

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stuckonswan · 6 years ago

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The Inn of Senrof, Act I

It’s still the 31st in Californiaaaaa After many many MANY months of working on this, I have finally completed my work for the sanders sides big bang run by the lovely blog @ts-storytime An apology for being so late to post, the entire month has been nothing but struggles and things kept popping up to delay me. A major thanks to @bloodropsblog who did everything I could possibly ask of them.

Click Here for Act II

Click Here for art done by @zennyo

Click Here for art done by @lady-literature

Another thanks goes to my lovely artists, @zennyo and @lady-literature who have been patient and supportive, I hope you enjoy the final product.

Trigger Warnings: violence, cursing, fire, arguments, blood, injury

Virgil

Pulvis et umbra sumus

His cloak was a worn black, faded with time and covered in rushed patch jobs, the velvet purple lining the inside peeking out in many places. To most, it would have been retired and packed away, or repaired until very little of its original fabric remained.

However, for Virgil, it was his beginning. The cloak with its deep hood and stitched pockets was where he began his endeavors. Each mark on the garment was a memory, an arrow too close or a sword slash too slow. It reminded him he was alive. That he could fight and that he would win.

So it stayed, secured around his throat, barely keeping him warm with all the holes and tears. The wind billowed around it as he rode on his horse, towards the small town of Senrof.

Senrof was a small city, hidden in the valley between two mountains and where Virgil rode to meet his boisterous and excitable partner, Roman.

The pair had been getting more attention as adventurers and, as a result, have been encountering less than ideal situations where a extra teammate would have made the situation far less dangerous as it had been originally. Coincidentally, a pair of adventurers who’d also been searching for a partner, attempting to make a team more suitable for dangerous missions. Roman had encountered them during a visit in the City of Shrines and they had agreed to meet in Senrof to discuss a possible alliance.

Virgil was a half day's ride away, and running late, as if the gods themselves were against his appearance in the forgotten town. As he rode on, he remembered the last conversation he had had with Roman, nearly a fortnight ago.

“I don’t like this.” Virgil grumbled, taking a large swig of his wine. The pair were staying in an inn, just west of the city of shrines. After a grueling quest, they escaped the city to resupply and rest for two weeks.

It seemed Roman had other ideas, however, as he instead wanted to use their downtime to discuss joining up with another pair of adventurers.

“That’s because change is a foreign concept to you, stormcloud.” Roman jokes, dodging the punch to his arm before taking a sip of his drink and continuing, “We need them if we are to take on higher paying jobs.” Roman clapped Virgil on the shoulder. “One’s a healer, the other’s a talented magician. They’d be of good use.”

“I’m not saying they wouldn’t be. But how do we know we can trust them, Ro?” He was paranoid and Roman knew it. It wasn’t that strange a trait to have when you realized he grew up in an assassins guild. It was expected to be stabbed in the back when you let your guard down. Virgil never really shook that particular habit, and had no want to anyhow.

“The healer is a paladin, Shadow. They’re good, trustworthy men. I promise.”

Virgil had just rounded the bend, lost in thought as he trekked the mountain slope when the thieves attacked, throwing him off his horse and into the snow below. He sucked in a fruitless gasp as the wind rushed out of his body. The three masked thieves rifled through his saddlebags, ignoring Virgil’s prone form on the ground.

A dangerous mistake when robbing someone, Virgil thought angrily, scowling into the snow. The least they could do if they were going to rob him is rob him well. Their daggers were still sheathed, the familiar mark of the assassins guild carved into the hilts. Virgil nearly snorted at the sight. Just his luck to be attacked by his peers.

I’m better, the voice in the back of his mind spoke up. They’re amateurs at best, he noticed, and certainly not taught by her.

“Today’s not your lucky day, boy,” a man snarled from under his mask, probably the leader and certainly the oldest. They moved slowly and clumsy, their feet kicking up snow as they went.

‘Boy?’ The word stuck under his skin, the jab at his apparent naivete leaving a sour taste on his tongue.

Slowly, Virgil stood, his knees shaking with nerves he never could seem to get rid of. His cheek was stung from having been scratched in the fall and his arms were covered in gooseflesh, his cloak having fallen from his shoulders. He knew he looked small and pitiful and it only served to make him angrier.

He stood to his full height, bringing himself up above the thieves. He may be thin but he towered over most. “I believe it’s you who should be worried,” he snapped in irritation.

Before they could react, he smirked, falling into a step sequence he knew by heart. His feet moved along the pattern burned into his muscle memory. The steps flowing through his body as he spun and danced and twisted himself around. In the blink of an eye he was gone.

The darkness having swallowed him whole, welcoming him into the inky black of the rich swath of shadows beneath the mountain.

The thieves, ill trained as they were, spun in circles to try and find his cloaked form. They moved with frustrated caution, unsheathing their daggers and calling out to him as if that will make him reappear.

Virgil rolled his eyes. And they thought him naive.

Fast as lightning, Virgil flew through the shadows, incapacitating the men with practiced ease. They were unconscious before they hit the ground.

Virgil did a sweep of the area, making sure no one else was hidden in the treeline. Just because these men were sloppy didn’t mean he needed to be. When he decided it was safe, he stepped from the shadows, the sunlight once again touching his face.

Completely on autopilot, he removed all the thieves possessions from their persons. Coins, knives, and any valuable items they may have stolen. He left them with little more than the clothes on their back. Then he grabbed a length of rope, tying them securely to a tree he knew was near a soldier’s patrol route.

When he was finished and realized he was safe again, the weight of the moment fell onto his chest making it hard to breathe. He took deep breaths to hold back his oncoming panic attack, but he could never really calm down without Roman chattering in his ear.

It took him seven minutes to start breathing normally again, and another three to calm Sombra down.

The damn thieves in the mountain ranges were getting out of hand. Virgil knew Roman blamed the guild, though he wouldn’t dare say those words aloud for fear of hurting his feelings.

He had trained there and he’d always be a part of the guild. It was his roots and no matter how hard he tries to distance himself, he knows you can’t run away from something that’s apart of you. No matter how hard you try or fast you run.

The shadows licked at his feet as he moved, loyal as they were for the few that they chose the help. They blurred the edges of his form, trying to pull him back into their dark realm. Trying to keep him safe. He smiled and cast them away with a quick flick of his wrist, placating them for the time being before throwing a leg up and climbing onto Sombra’s back.

It wasn’t until sundown that he reached the town, he and Sombra exhausted and ready for a rest. And it wasn’t until moonrise that he reached the inn.

Virgil had paid for a stall in the stables on the outside of the town and decided to walk the rest of the way to the inn, giving his nerves time to settle. He passed several small houses and shops, all closed several hours ago. Only the blacksmith was still open, the owner bringing a hammer down on a screaming lump of metal, still blazing with fire. The moon was at its apex and the shadows swirled around him, beckoning him into the darkness between the many buildings.

Soon, the Inn was standing before him. A lame building, clearly on its last legs. Crumbling bricks looking like a hard wind would send the building crashing to the ground at Virgil's feet. He continued forward, his eyes on the inn at the town’s center and the man clinging to the eaves.

“Has my shadow finally returned to me?” a man standing beside the doorway of the inn called out, his face hidden in shadows. Virgil rolled his eyes at him as he stepped out into the light. Roman had been calling him his shadow since their first quest together, when Virgil had quite literally become Roman’s shadow to maintain the element of surprise over their enemies.

“I thought I told you that if you called me that again I’d throw your stuff in the nearest stream, shall I make good on my promise?” The threat was half-hearted at best and Virgil was smiling as he said it, enjoying their inside joke of three years. As he stepped into the soft glow of torchlight surrounding the inn he realised the friendly expression did nothing for Roman in the darkness he was just standing in. His fear evaporated as Roman stepped out of the shadows, bearing a smile as well.

“It’s good to see you, Ro.” The pair clasped hands in greeting. Virgil looked his friend over for signs of battle, checking to make sure he was alright. When the thief found none he stepped back, waiting for Roman to finish his more obvious examination.

“Well you’re late, so I can call you whatever I please,” Roman snarked, stepping back to lean against the wall of the inn. He was wearing his flashy white tunic with the gold accents. The golden buttons he bought on the last job, securing the blood red cape to his shoulders.

He was dressed up like a presenting peacock, the obvious outcast in a sea of dull peasant browns and greens. But after the many years of partnership with him, Virgil had given up trying to talk him out of it. “We’re supposed to meet the others inside at sundown. It’s almost a new day, Shadowling.”

Virgil’s hands shook and he smoothed down the cloak, feeling the worn black velvet on his fingers. “I got held up. Some bandits on the mountain ambushed me.” At Roman’s worried look, Virgil added, “They’ve been handled. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Roman frowned, irritation and worry in his eyes. Despite his best efforts to keep his partner calm, Virgil knew that Roman was constantly worried about him during their brief periods of separation. “I’m glad you made it here unscathed, Virgil.” Roman let out a deep breath before brightening. “Come on. As I said before, we’re very late.” He flicked his cape around him with a flourish before pushing open the door.

The bar was empty save for a few patrons scattered here and there. Most were slumped over cups of ale, snoring worse than Roman on a cold night. Despite the few patrons, it was loud and dirty inside. Virgil eyed the room with distaste.

“I see you still have poor taste in taverns,” He remarked, scrunching his nose as he maneuvered around the tables.

While Virgil had yet to meet his future companions face to face, he trusted Roman’s judgment and just looking around the room, he knew immediately who they were. There were only two men in the bar that Virgil deemed fit for travel, and Roman knew how shallow and picky Virgil could be when he wanted. He would only pick what he thought was best. Besides, he was allowed to be picky, he was one of seven Shadowdancers in the world. It’s not like you could hire one at the market. And if you could, you’d be poor from the effort.

The two men worthy of more than a half second glance were huddled in the far corner. Their table looked to be barely holding itself together but the position was the most defendable should someone attack the inn. The pair looked to be in deep in conversation, their heads bent towards each other as they spoke in hushed tones. The man on the left had cropped, brown hair and a tall stature from what he could see. He wore long, billowing robes of deep navy and light gray silks. Dusted over his cloak were words of power, scripted in what seemed to be golden thread. He held himself with confidence and power, his back straight and shoulders squared. He looked hesitant to touch anything besides his chair and the table.

Virgil rolled his eyes, A spoiled nobleman’s child out studying magic. Roman better know what he’s doing.

To the right of the magic user was a man in lightly glowing armor. His hair was a light brown, almost blonde that curled just past his ears. He seemed to cast a light over the dim bar both literally and figuratively, walking closer Virgil felt magic flow through him and was calmer if only for a moment. His sword glowed brighter than the light he already cast and Virgil decided it was some sort of godly light. Now that Virgil was closer he could see that the armor he wore was well kept yet lightly tarnished, as if it had seen recent battle.

He gestured wildly at his partner, his face animated despite his whispered tones. As they grew closer, Virgil heard this man frequently cut off the other in favor of his own voice. They approached quickly, moving through the maze of tables and the occasional bar maid or patron. By the time they got to the table, Virgil’s heart beat like a metronome to a ghost song. A deep pit was forming in his stomach and he wished he had talked to Roman more before walking in here.

Logan

There is no great genius without some touch of madness

-Aristotle

“How good can they be if they can’t even handle being punctual, Patton?” Logan whispered hotly, eyes scanning the bar on the first floor of the inn. The disgruntled bartender was washing the counters as he spoke to the patrons sitting up there with him. He all but ignored the pair of adventurers tucked away in the back corner, seated at a table riddled with scars and scrapes.

It was a sad inn. There were few customers and the furniture had clearly seen better days. The walls were littered with holes and deep gashes. And Logan firmly believed that the tables had to be imbued with some form of magic because they should have long since crumpled to nothing.

As a whole, Logan thought of Senrof as a pitiful town to stow away in, waiting for two people with no concept of time as it would seem. He was growing impatient, but Patton was hellbent on teaming up with whoever these people were.

“Well you never did like to give newcomers a chance Logan, but we really do need them. It’s getting more and more dangerous out there. The seem like good people, Logan. His partner’s even a dancer, Lo!”

“I hardly see the point of a dance-” Logan was cut off by Patton waving his arms to silence him.

“A Shadowdancer. Taught under she who walked through the shadow plane. The shadow plane, Logan!” Patton took a deep breath, his excitement practically vibrating through him, before he continued, smiling at Logan earnestly. “He’s a good kid and Roman’s a talented Bard. Handy with a longsword as well.” Logan sighed frustratedly. While an excellent partner with a moral compass so good it was almost uncanny, Patton was far too trusting.

These people could be good as Patton believes . Or they could be waiting to kill them and rob them blind for good measure. The latter seemed more likely to Logan than the former and he prefered himself alive, thank you very much.

After all, you can’t cast if you’re dead.

Logan forced himself to admit that they sounded good. However, he and Patton were better he was almost positive. More than good. He and Patton meshed in a way that was near indescribable. Logan had never felt this comfortable around someone else, and he certainly didn’t want two strangers coming in and ruining everything. They made an excellent team as they were.

“I’m just not sure, Patton. If it isn’t broken-”

“Break it.”

In front of them stood two men, the left-most having finished his statement, albeit incorrectly. They appeared to be adventurers, although one was dressed in a crisp white uniform, a golden circlet resting atop his golden hair while the other looked like he had been dragged by a horse down a hill, his cloak taking the brunt of the damage. It was fairly easy to deduce which man was the Shadowdancer and which the Bard. Logan was sure even Patton could tell, he could read people like the best clairvoyants and yet when it came to determining a person’s prefered fighting style, Patton always failed.

Patton stood, grinning from ear to ear as he walked around the table to shake both their hands. “Roman! And you must be, Virgil? Was it?” Patton hesitated on the other man’s name and could see him physically wince. Despite this, Roman nodded and Patton moved away from their table and shook both their hands, grabbing Roman by the forearm in a warriors grasp and then shaking Virgil’s hand as if he were made of glass.

Patton was always pulling things like this on Logan, inviting other adventurers to their table to share stories and regale each other with fantastic tales. Patton normally kept his group of the night up well after moonrise. It was perplexing the amount of energy he would have after a battle or an entire day of traveling. While Logan prefered to sit with a book and a tall glass of ale, Patton preferred company and wouldn’t hesitate to find it once Logan started ignoring him. This time however, Patton had agreed to travel with these new adventurers and while he loathed to be apart of a bigger group, he couldn’t deny that the shadowdancing assassin was intriguing.

“Let’s not hound them Patton, they must have come a long way. At least give them time to sit and grab drinks,” Logan kept his tone neutral, as if he didn’t care whether they joined or not. In all honesty, it wasn’t difficult to act as though he didn’t want them and he wasn’t so sure he was acting after a moment of thought.

“Thank you for offering, my friend.” Roman sat down at the table with a hearty thunk, making himself comfortable as he waved over the bartender. After a moment of hesitation, so did his partner. Unlike Roman who stood out like a sore thumb, Logan would have had trouble noticing Virgil if he wasn’t staring right at him.

Almost immediately Roman waved over the bartender and soon a pitcher and two glasses were sitting next to the ones Patton had ordered earlier.

“So, shall we talk about this new arrangement before we drink?” The assassin spoke without preamble, straight to the point. A personality trait Logan could appreciate.

Virgil leaned over the table, the wood creaking under his weight as he swirled his finger over the edge of his drinking glass. It created a small warbling noise, almost musical in the quiet bar. “I prefer to talk business before my partner here drinks himself under the table.” The words were stamped at the end with a mild glare towards said partner, already half a glass of ale into the evening.

“I agree.” Logan said, a brow creeping its way up onto his forehead before he could stop it. Their partner dynamic seemed… interesting to say the least. For one, they had obviously been partners for years. This was made clear by their friendly banter and overall comfortableness around each other. Roman was quite obviously the unspoken leader similar to how Logan was the unspoken strategist between Patton and himself.

What was unusual was how similar the partnership seemed to his own. Yes, they were an odd pair and yet so were he and Patton.

Granted he had only been around the pair for mere minutes and yet he saw himself in both of them just as easily as he saw Patton in the pair. He caught Patton’s eye and saw him staring back, a gleam in his eye as if they were thinking the same thing. Patton saw it too. Logan stared for a few minutes more, lost in thought until someone pointedly cleared their throat as if waiting for an answer to a question he never heard.

“Logan, are you even paying attention?” Patton was talking to him, poking him in the side till he glanced over.

“Yes, sorry.” Logan glanced up, nodding to both travelers. “Now, what was it we were discussing?”

Patton waved off his lapse and brought him up to speed. “We were discussing our strengths. Roman is proficient with a longsword and is capable of magic!” He bounced in his seat excitedly, the energy of ten men inside his body.

“Ah of course, you’re the bard yes? And your associate is the dancer, correct?” They both nodded although Logan did not miss the look of irritation that flashed across Virgil’s face at the word, ‘dancer’. “I’m a practicing mage although most of my powers go to evocation. However, I am also proficient with spells to aid my companions.”

Roman nodded, “Sounds similar to what I do for Virgil. He’s the fighter in our group. While I am proficient with the sword, I normally aid him with my magic.”

Virgil thwacked him in the head with his sleeve, a playful smile on his face. “You only aid me when you remember you have magic.” Turning to Logan, the smile fell off his face and he became more composed. “I fight in the shadows, Roman usually fights alongside me until he remembers he can use magic.”

Logan’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked over at the lithe and small frame of Virgil. Of course he was muscled, but he seemed far too fragile for a fighter.

But, even he was wrong sometimes. Looks can be deceiving, I suppose.

The rogue caught his eye and, seemingly reading his mind, narrowed his eyes in a challenge. Slow and purposeful, he reached for the hilt of his dagger and sank the blade into the table with a dull thud. It wasn’t deep, merely enough to keep the blade standing, but Logan heard the bartender make an affronted noise.

Both Roman and Patton made confused noises, unable to understand the power play. While excelling in certain areas, brains and strategy was neither’s forte. But virgil seemed to know what he was doing, knew what he needed to do to get what he wanted.

Another agile mind.

Interesting.

“I’ve been told you’ve had training with the assassin’s guild. You are remarkably small-built for a frequent combatant.” Logan spoke in a calm manner, his tone controlled, wanting to see how this played out.

“It doesn’t take much strength to use daggers. And an opponent with all the strength in the world means nothing if they can’t catch you.” His eyes twinkle in a way that makes Logan shift in his seat, silently reminding himself to never underestimate Virgil again. “Besides,” he continued, shifting to be more comfortable in the rickety wooden chair, “shadows don’t care if I’m not the strongest. Their skills are wit and stealth. I consider myself proficient in both of those. Understood?”

The pair held gazes for a moment. Virgil, to make sure he got his point across and Logan to make sure that while the battle was lost, the war was not.

“Of course.” Logan answered, tilting his head in a nod and breaking eye contact. He reached across the table, plucking the knife from the table and holding it in his hands to examine.

Logan didn’t know much of blades, but this one looked like a fine one. It made sense such a man would have a nice blade.

After a moment, he held the knife out, hilt first to Virgil, a sign of goodwill after such mind games. He knew they’d but heads in the future, but for now they could agree to a truce.

Virgil leaned back in his seat, twirling the blade with deadly precision before sliding it back in his holster. As he moved, Logan saw the outline of at least four more weapons on his person. Logan suspected he was wearing a bandolier, dozens of knives held to his chest.

Patton coughed to ease the tension, giving an easy if confused smile. “Well now that that’s… settled, how about discussing what we all came here for, yes? We didn’t come all the way here to talk, not that you aren’t lovely.” He and Roman share a laugh.

“Yes, I think now is a great time to start discussing important matters.” Roman sends Virgil a sharp look which the assassin steadfastly ignores. “While this has certainly been fun, I’m afraid that we don’t know how we’d work together as a team. Most jobs are dangerous. A single mistake could mean death or injury. How do we plan on being prepared?”

“My concerns exactly,” Logan agrees. Virgil looks at him in surprise but hides it before anyone else notices. “We cannot guarantee safety in such uncontrolled environments. A possible solution could be a simple mission with little fighting, but that could still end in injury.”

“Exactly! See, Roman? I’m not paranoid, I’m merely thinking ahead.”

Roman rolls his eyes. “Then what is your solution?” he asks, slamming back the remainder of his pint before refilling his glass.

Logan sighed, “If it fails then we go our separate ways, and we forget meeting each other.” He spoke the answer as if it was obvious and to him it was. Why would they continue as a party if a simple quest went awry. Patton, ever the cheery one, sat up straighter in his seat and leaned onto the table before speaking.

“Logan is just a pessimist, ignore him. A test run sounds like a swell idea and I’m sure it’ll go great. Right Lo?” The agreeing tone and the kick under the table had Logan nodding, if only to keep the peace. “Now that we have decided on where to go from here, how about dinner?” Patton waved over a waitress before anyone could protest and soon, their orders had been placed and Logan was once again sitting with his head in a book, ignoring the chattering of his newfound party.

The smell of warm food brought Logan’s nose away from the stiff pages of the book and he quietly put it away as the waitress slid platters onto their table. A large pitcher of ale and two platters of meat were accompanied by 4 wooden bowls filled with a strong smelling broth. Logan nodded at the barmaid in thanks, tossing her two silver pieces before grabbing a bowl. Other than the call for more ale from Patton, supper was a silent affair and afterwards, the party of four paid for the meal, and went outside towards the back of the inn to examine the quest board.

Like many towns, the quest board was right outside the inn, marked by a line of torches at the top of the wooden sign. However, unlike many towns, this board was thin for quests. Only three papers littered the massive board and none of them required the skill of four adventurers. Logan sighed, defeated if only for a moment. “Looks like no quests worthy of our attention. Of course we may do them for the gold they can bring us but it would be a better use of our time to travel elsewhere in search of a good trial quest.”

Patton gathered the papers regardless and nodded. “I agree with Logan. These papers detail ingredients that need to be gathered and children’s pets that have wandered.” he glanced at a child’s drawing of their own missing cat, carefully peeling it off the quest board, “I can deal with these at dawn, split the money four ways before we leave town. For now, I suggest we rent rooms and get some rest. It has been a tiresome day for us all and we must leave after breakfast tomorrow.” He looked at the pair next to him, a stern look set into his face, and waited for their nod of agreement before turning on his heel and walking back into the inn.

Logan fell in step behind the trio, looking back in disappointment at the board. One small close of the fist and the torches extinguished around the board, leaving a patch of darkness in the circle around the inn. He closed his fist entirely, nails digging into the flesh of his palm, and the area went dark entirely. The only light came from Patton as he led them back inside and up to the barkeep.

“I only got two rooms, double beds in em both.” the barkeep was talking to Patton already by the time Logan had stepped through the door. He sighed, watching as the barkeep handed over two small keys. His hands gestured upstairs with a dirty rag and then the foursome was upstairs, trotting down hallways to their rooms.

“So what did you think of them?” Patton was laying on his bed, having just finished his nightly prayers. His armor rested by the bed in a neat pile waiting to be polished and he had switched into a pair of cotton pants with a light blue tunic. He gazed over at Logan every so often, glancing at him before returning his eyes to the ceiling above him.

“They were certainly interesting. You have a knack for picking perplexing individuals, Patton..” Logan shuffled around, folding back his blankets and crawling into bed. Immediately his eyes shuffled closed and a wave of sleep crashed over him. He murmured a small good night to Patton and was then asleep.

Roman

“Where words fail, music speaks.”

-Hans Christian Anderson

Roman folded his clothes, making a small pile on the nightstand between the two beds. The moon was high in the sky, marking the late hour like a beacon and yet the pair were still awake. Virgil had already shucked off his clothes and was now pacing across the floorboards in a pair of linen pajamas, shirt flowing unbuttoned. Every so often he stopped to engage his partner and yet didn't bother trying to calm himself. Roman just started on, lazily strumming his lyre as Virgil attempted to saw a hole in the floor with an endless back and forth pattern as he walked. This had been going on almost an hour now, Roman’s eyes blurred from watching the motion.

“-and it’s everytime Ro! Why can you walk up to any random adventurer in a tavern and instantly have a seat with a pint of ale while I have to prove myself every damn time. I hate taverns.” He had been rambling nonstop since entering the room and Roman kept murmuring small remarks to keep Virgil under the belief he was listening. If he was honest with himself, Roman was just as angry. Yes, Virgil was a small, lithe body that hid in deep hooded cloaks for most of their friendship. It makes sense that people look at him without seeing the threat. However, Roman had watched Virgil throw daggers with deadly accuracy and seen him be swallowed whole by shadows, leaving no trace of where he is. He was powerful and yet his appearance masked any sign of strength. It worked for them in hostile situations but it was useless making allies.

“You can best five men in a fight without breaking a sweat. People’s first opinions may be wrong but their second is what matters most, Shadow.” Roman settled across the bed and turned to his partner. He plucked at the strings of his lyre, humming as he tuned the small instrument. “Now will you please settle? You’ll fall through the floor with all that pacing.”

Virgil collapsed onto the bed, it wobbling dangerously before settling against the floor. “It’s annoying, and frustrating. Not that you would know, Prince Perfect.” the name is a poor attempt at a jester to lighten the mood and Roman laughs if only to soothe his partner. It was true, while Virgil struggled at near every town, Roman could walk in anywhere and swindle a crowd to his side. They never took him seriously, but he had no problems making friends before traveling with Virgil.

“I have my own dealings, Shadow. Now try and rest. Tomorrow will be a new day and you’ll need your strength.” Roman strummed a soft and gentle rhythm, humming to the tune. It was melodic, calming for both. Instantly, Virgil’s eyes drooped down and he turned onto his side, grabbing the blanket to tug over his head.

For as long as they’d been partners, sleep was a rarity for Virgil. So for the better part of their friendship, Roman would make up nonsense chords to sway the shadowling into sleep. Sometimes he would sing lullabies and sometimes he would only have to hum for Virgil to fall prey to his tune. This was one of those nights, Virgil kicking off his boots and closing his eyes.

Roman continued his tune until Virgil’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, almost to the beat of the song. He gazed over at his companion, propping his lyre up by the nightstand between them.

It had been a long day. A long, difficult day for both him and Virgil. He would be branded a liar if he said the first meeting went well, Logan being an obvious problem for Virgil. Roman was unable to keep the peace between the two and as far as first meetings go, this one would unfortunately be considered an utter failure in his book. The team just didn’t click. He wasn’t sure they would ever be considered a decent team and the thought was...worrying to say the least.

Before long, Roman’s eyes grew heavy, exhaustion weighing him down like an anvil tied to his back. Shifting onto his side, Roman allowed his eyes to fall shut. His last thought before sleep overtook him was of the quest they would soon begin. Of course, he should have known sleep wouldn’t last long on nights like these.

He was stepping off a ledge, one foot impulsively moving off the side into the abyss below. The wind blew hard and fast, ripping at his clothes and hair. Fear rippled through his entire being and he could feel his heart beating like a tribal drum. The energy around the hole was dark, negative and ominous. He knew nothing good would come from stepping into the abyss in front of him. Yet he was halfway there already.

He could sense death and the image of a dark, almost black horse with a broken neck became all he could see. Like a terrifying play, the images pressed forward, showing him a broken party. His broken party. Roman surged forward, his weight toppling into the dark cavern below.

The felt like an eternity, but he could tell it only took mere minutes before he hit hard, on rocky ruins. Roman gasped for air, his lungs deflated after the impact stole his breath from his body. He lay prone, head barely lifted and saw chaos before him.

Virgil stood alone, betrayed by his own cloak which lay wrapped around his throat, throttling him. The thin fabric dragged him backwards with a choked scream followed by a sickening crack, 20 feet into the darkness. A silent scream ripped from his throat, helpless on the ground and unable to speak. On the floor Logan lay, moaning in agony with a bloody hole in his forearm. His eyes stared at the hole and back at his quarterstaff, broken in half at his feet. Patton stood with a smile yet his face was horribly marred, burns covering over half his face. Screams could be heard, echoing throughout the cavern and when Roman awoke he realized it was his own voice.

Gentle hands rested on his shoulders, a soft voice murmuring kind words to him. “Everything is okay, you’ll be fine Ro. It was just a dream. No one here is going to hurt you, not with me around.” Roman may be out of it, eyes unfocused and heart running a race it had long since lost, but he could recognize the voice of his shadow anywhere. It was as if someone had washed his body in cool water, a wave of calm rolling over him as he focused on the voice. Unshed tears blur his vision and he blinks them away, allowing the tears to trace their way down his face. Virgil’s profile appears above him, features sharpening as his eyes become tear free. Worry and concern flash through Virgil’s features and as he helps Roman sit up in his bed, his hands shake.

“I’m so sorry I woke you. It was but a dream, nothing harmful to us in the present.” His words rang true at least partially. No one can speak for the future.

“Bullshit Ro. I’m surprised the entire inn isn’t awake from the screaming. It was worse than the wail of a banshee.” he sits on the bed, fidgeting with the bedspread in an obvious show of restlessness. “It wasn’t a good thing to wake up to. It sounded like you were dying.”

Roman’s features softened, hand going up to Virgil’s shoulder in a sign of comfort. “I can assure you, I am quite alright, my Shadow. It was but a startling dream.” Which again, partially true on Roman’s part. He couldn’t bring himself to recount the dream to Virgil. The shadowling had enough trouble sleeping without any unnatural dreams. Besides, looking at Virgil, scanning his neck for any bruising and seeing none, he slowly realized he had nothing to fear. Everything was going to be okay. His shadowling was alright and so was he. Roman let his hand fall off of the other man’s shoulder, resting it atop his hand instead.

“Ro are you sure? You looked like you’d seen a ghost. Or worse.” He kept a grip on the palm of Roman’s hand, rubbing soothing circles into the flesh.

“I’m sure. It was just a strange dream. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m sorry for rousing you from sleep. I’m sure you’re exhausted.” The room was still dark and the sun had not yet risen. “Need me to play for you?”

Virgil gave a small chuckle, a smile across his face. “No need to worry about me, just get some sleep” his voice was like velvet, soft and gentle. It washed over Roman until the fear had gone and a wave of sleep fell over him. The dream loomed ominously over his head but at the moment, sleep was winning.

“Goodnight, V.” he murmured, clinging to the blankets with one hand, Virgil with the other.

The other man smiled, “Sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

The last thought Roman had before lady sleep dragged him away was of the smooth circular movement Virgil was rubbing his palm.

Patton

Strength does not come from physical capacity.

It comes from an indomitable will.

-Mahatma Gandhi

Patton rose with the morning sun, his eyes sliding open on instinct, as if he somehow knew a new day had arrived. Putting great effort in keeping his motions soft, he stood and stretched. Soft cracking noises could be heard throughout his body, weathered with age. It was the marks of battle making early appearances in his still youthful form.

His arms moved instinctively towards the tarnished breastplate laying neatly on top of his pack, almost urging him forward with the warmth it gave off in the otherwise cool and dark room. Picking up the piece, Patton made quick work of the worn leather straps and pins that kept his armor in place. The moment the last strap was secure against his body, heat poured off of him. It was a type of light his armor held from the day he first strapped the pieces onto his person. He never knew why it glowed and he dare not ask in his prayers, lest it be taken. After all, who is he to question the gods who so generously blessed him everyday?

The life of a paladin wasn’t ideal for most, but for Patton, it was the only suitable way to live. From a young age, the ideas of the gods had been drilled into his brain, and of how the forests and sun that blessed his town were all gifts from them. It was taught to never take those gifts lightly. . He had trained for years in an attempt to pay the gods back and the first day he strapped on his armor, he knew with the glow that every hard quest or difficult night he had worked paid off. The gods had shrouded him in golden light as thanks. Or at least that’s what he believed.

Now fully protected in his armor, Patton moved to the window and knelt, head hanging with eyes closed. Silently, he reflected on the day to come and thanked his gods for allowing the day to exist in the first place. Warmth began to seep into his skin, heating his body in a pleasant, kind way and he smirked. Everytime he prayed he felt what could only be described as sunshine flood into his body, proof the gods were at least happy with him.

A quick glance towards Logan showed him still sleeping, albeit fitfully. His blanket had long since been discarded and the clothes he had worn to bed were rumpled. Clicking his tongue as he observed his sleeping partner. Patton grabbed the blanket, now strewn half on the bed and half on the floor, and threw it over Logan. Satisfied with the room and himself, he stepped out into the hallway and started for the stairs, his armor clinking as he walked.

The inn was quiet, not a single person awake besides the bartender and himself. It was a strange sight witnessing a bar in dead silence and yet it was one he was familiar with. As long as he could remember, Patton was asleep before the moon and rises high into the night sky and was awake with the morning sun. The smell of eggs and sausages wafted into the air and he moved towards the counter, taking a seat and holding up a single finger, silently requesting a plate.

It arrives sooner than he expected, a metal pan heaping with eggs, potatoes and sausage along with a large glass of water. He gives a nod in thanks, a small, cheerful smile spreading on his face before he begins to scarf down the breakfast, burning his tongue as it slides down his throat. The food warms the inside of his stomach and he smiles at the feeling.

“Up quite early aren’t ya? I normally don’t see people down here till half past six.” A loud yet gentle voice brings him away from the still silence of the morning and Patton jerks his head up to stare the man in the face. The bartender’s eyebrow raises and Patton follows the curve of his brow up his forehead.

Patton paid no mind to the bartender, just shrugging to the comment and returning to his breakfast, When he was done he slid from the high stool and walked towards the exit, towards the quest board to see if any new ones appeared. None were displayed much to his disappointment and frustration, so he pulled the papers he collected from it the night before out of his pocket, unfolding their worn creases and reading their requests.

In every town, no matter what the quest, Patton always gave it at least an attempt. Not only did it allow him to serve the people of the town, it gave Logan time to rest as he rarely went on the quests with him without a reward or some danger. Fine by him, he was there for the adventure.

They weren’t anything exciting, mostly recovery of artifacts or cave exploration but he took what he could.These would at the least intrigue Logan who would see it as an easy exercise for this newfound team they had become a part of.

Upon closer inspection, the quests seemed to line up after one another, something no one noticed. Not even Logan. Patton moved to the floor, leaning against the wooden legs of the board for support as he spread the papers out in front of them. He couldn’t determine the order but he knew that they connected.

A heavy sigh caught his attention, he looked up to identify who it had come from to see a figure kneeling in front of him. The person was cloaked, the black of it seeming like a piece of the world was missing in front of his very eyes. Not even the light he had been gifted from the gods could penetrate the darkness in front of him. A nest of bonerats began their tumble through his stomach and he couldn’t shake his feeling of unease. Their face wasn’t visible, covered by a deep hood and from what he could tell, a half-mask across the person’s face. Patton stared down the figure, a hand instinctively moving towards the sword at his side.

“I see you are thinking of taking up on those quests.” The voice was deep, a light echo following after the sentence. It felt like the world around them shut off. The wind ceased to gust, the trees no longer made a noise, the sounds that came with the morning had ceased to exist. He looked around and saw nothing out of place, as if time had stopped. Serious magic was at work here and Patton stared back at the man with a small smile, deciding to keep talking and avoid a conflict until there was no other choice

“Uh.. yes. Me and the rest of my party are doing this as an easy exercise.” That sentence earned a hearty laugh from the person in front of him, laughing as if they were old friends sharing a joke.. “Easy. That must have been the funniest thing I have heard in years. Oh traveler, these quests are nothing to take lightly.” His fingers traced the papers as he spoke, stroking them fondly like you would a lover. Patton shifted where he sat, not able to look at the figure without feeling as if he were about to lose consciousness.

“They’re nothing but puzzles and caverns. I see no difficulty in these quests.” Patton’s features hardened and he stared down the hooded figure who merely snorted.

“These caverns are design to drive you to insanity should you take one step out of line. Even now, miles above the surface they plague members of your team and this town.” Patton opened his mouth to speak only to find silence, no words came from his mouth. The hooded man, at least he was sure it was a man, continued on. “You have to work together, to never part. It is all or none of you. There will be tragedies and falls, but you mustn’t let those stop you from adventuring into the caverns.”

Patton looked down at the papers to see them in a new order. Magically, they had shifted to the correct placement, each quest trailing into the next. The more he stared, the less they looked like individual pieces. He picked up the papers to see they had combined as one. Between his fingers were a crude map. The first one didn’t have a way to get into the cave, no way of getting in to start their journey. “How do we get in? How do I make sure we stay together? To make everyone get along?” Like firing arrows, the questions shot out of his mouth and he was grateful he could once again speak.

“You simply wait for the fall of course. It shall come before the days end. Unfortunately it is impossible to keep your team together in the dark. They’ll have to want allies in order for your team to not wither away at the edges.” He must’ve seen the confusion in Patton’s eyes for he continued, “Patience, dear Patton. You will find out in time it is more difficult underneath the surface.”

As Patton was about to ask what the last sentence meant, the figure stood and dusted off his clothes, the darkness rippling as his hands ghosted over the fabric.”Unfortunately, we are out of time. I can only be on this plane for so long before things get finicky although I’m sure you’ve noticed that.” A pocket watch appeared in his hand and he spun it, the hand moving faster than a hummingbird or an arrow. Just when he thought he would be sick staring at the whirling hand, it disappeared with a loud crack and with it, the man.

A weight came off Patton’s chest and he took large swallows of air, head moving around to see where he had gone.

The earth seemed to move again, slowly but surely it came back to life. It was no longer quiet. The wind began to blow again, almost knocking the paper out of his hand. The trees began to shake and the leaves fluttered in the breeze. Animals began shifting in the shadows of the forest on the outskirts of town. From the bar behind him he could hear the clattering of pots and pans. What just happened?

It was jostling, the sudden noise. It was never quiet for him, ever. When the man appeared it was as if time had stopped and nothing could move but them. Suddenly even the softest, ambient noises were too much for him.

“Patton!” A voice yelled, causing the one in question to flinch back in surprise, throwing his weight back into his hands. There they stood, the other members of his party. Each one wore concerned and worried looks on their faces. Logan was the closest to him, arms crossed. “Patton, are you alright?”

“I- I- uh…” He looked at the papers again, hands trembling. “Um…” He didn’t know what to say. How do you explain what he had just seen? “How’d you three know to find me, it’s barely dawn.” he musters out instead, distracting them if only for a moment.

The three moved forward till they stood around him in a neat semi-circle. “We were all walking out of our rooms to the quest board, we were hoping to find a better suited quest. Patton,” Logan’s voice is soothing on his thudding head, “what happened?” Logan had bent down, now face to face with Patton.

“It was a man, a creature. He gave me this, told me this was the quest we must begin.” He started, holding the crude map out for the three to see.

Logan took the map from his hands, passing it to Virgil before hauling Patton up by the arms. Patton yelped as he was moved before he stood and Logan was holding onto his shoulders, rubbing them in comfort for a moment before gripping them tight, pulling him so they were an elbow length apart.

“Tell me everything” He said, demanding and authoritative, the voice Logan typically reserved for battle. The lines of his face had become hardened, concern evident in his eyes. Patton took a deep breath and began retelling the story. It took only mere moments to explain what was going on but by the end each person looked concerned, fear underlying their entire conversation.

“...and then he pulled out a pocket watch, spun it and he disappeared. It was almost as if...” he trails off. Patton knows what he thinks and that is that. But he’s almost always wrong, especially when magic is considered. It’s impossible. No wizard has that power. Virgil moves suddenly, his face once appalled now questioning.

“You were frozen in time.” he looks down at the ground, holding something in his fist.

“Uhm...yes that’s what I was wondering. But isn’t it-”

“Impossible.” Logan finishes for him, looking sharply at both men. “No mage has that sort of power, time is a finicky subject that only the oracles can control. There hasn’t been an oracle capable of stopping time in millenia if even that.”

“It’s not impossible, just hasn’t been heard of in some time.” Virgil was tense, ridgid. He opened his fist, revealing a small medallion in his palm, raising it in an offering to Patton. “Does this look familiar to you?”

Patton takes the medallion, turning it over several times in his hand. It’s heavy for its size yet still relatively thin, almost as if it’s a coin. On what he would assume is the front of the “coin” is the pocket watch, impeccably detailed onto the metal. Upon closer inspection, the clock seems to move with each passing second, giving him the time. Fascinated, Patton flips the coin to the tail end, a small illustration of a hooded figure, shadows spilling from his hands staring back at him, the shadows swirling around on the coin. “That’s...it looks exactly like the watch I saw and minus the shadows, that’s the figure I saw.” He holds the coin back out to Virgil, slipping it back into his waiting palm. “Who is that?”

“That is the symbol of Skotos Sythos, patron God of assassins.”

#sanders sides fics #sanders sides #logan sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: arguing #ts-storytime #2018 submission #Hannah's shitty writing #TS-Storytime 2018 Submission

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iotaarcane · 6 years ago

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XnationalZ

BUSY BLOW TORCHING DABS

Door doesn’t open it glides on rails like the entrance impales tracks leave scabs

They pick at them like a flurry of energy inertly imperil and in peril while sterile the enemy isn’t at his post busy blow torching dabs

Laughing gas to a mass of brain cells that might as well been in cell or for sale to sell for the fact of not being usable like loud theater patrons at musical

Stomping footsteps upsets the stairwell, Hercule as security

picks you up and while airborne you get the farewell.

A good bye of sorts a great try physically the body with a little help contorts but spiritually its dormant in hibernation protected in a fort. The outside winds set him to the maximum miles per hour bumping over the welts. Swelling is mainstream never go underground. A golf club waving at lightning

A day filled with bad decisions. A perfect life a nocturnal health freak who is slowing dying because of the hours he choose to sleep. North of the sauna lives out of water a piranha gills with chankla…. Flip flop the hip hop to this mantra…. They got Bin Laden but the tomatoes slices cut au gratin and their insides just by general principal all rotten every good deed all but forgotten.

They attempted because it looked great on camera to have caughten Sadam but the madam of the ministry secretly had many a body double dangling feet from noose corpse of course wasn’t who they thought they had bad DNA tests fail when not given. You’ll just straight believe without any thought or thinking in a closed space trying to identify who is stinking. This planet in that galaxy is sinking below where it once orbited and your whole existence is defined of what you afforded how toxins are absorbed y’all point the finger iota morbid.

As blood dripping on everything like a loop of hemoglobin training goblins to run tasks on apps. Hairless ape with only a little fur missing - hand and the wrist slice is still fresh magenta pink placenta veiny underwent chef prep, impractical to prevent a story to end like this begin as it went, we muster the emotion to climb street curb like step, tentacle suction cup girlfriend tales like cotton swab on bunny ear manifesto. One piece bikini transacting - posts no bill. Open register the creditor turned into a collector, an editorial of breadwinner meanwhile back in the western hemisphere sky is too clear - cuts retina sundries colander fluid filter an array of enemies attacked the command post. The mid morning foray angrily adjusted. You could totally notice the moment the ward went kaleidoscope twist 33 degree. As the crow fly viewpoint saw the west wing extend and to what seems like an elbow bend but they aint drinking consuming much of nothing except orders from the chief who dictates the whereabouts and you gotta be down cannot have doubts they don’t come in shouts - illest hand signals in the game it’s an artistic beauty to see the tic for tac counterattack he who gets the most vagina must be the Mack. Diesel easel drawer no undies they were left in dresser drawer and if it don’t work out oh no the lawyer is not pro bono yet the retainer fixed the teeth apprehended the beef no more issues.

Him whose piss poor planning continues will be facing the sultry seductress Miss Hughes 4 feet 6 shoes opposite of the elephant of Hindus infamous for the pop ins on miscues So real was breakfast cereal mammal sauce from cashews. Nipple hula hoop sports car aficionado drop top in the coupe where they kept the chickens. Jumpy trampoline mouth fortune reader foreseen vulgar obscene potty lips unclean that contingency of the attorney of where wonder land on a poca dot which marks the spot. Accuracy solar hot, lift off broke apart space shuttle heat pads over hot not matter if they were chosen or not. Nudity not as bad as could be frontal, wide opening little exit funnel so many come backs you can’t shoot down every rebuttal. We double as secret agents where birds are fowl and flagrant evil as the vortex in control of this spaceship. I got it plannded see use that ladder granted to climb into the zoo – carefully pinpoint were from the top we landed snag a handful thus huck right between their eyes candid close to the nose as possible rancid so they go crazy - ape shit

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++NOTHING and LIKE it

You’ll get nothing and like it. No matter how much you despite it.

Like you wanted that new whip but you were too good for the bus so you bike it.

Like it ever mattered – your best bud did the same inebriated on the way home dump truck made him splattered we identified the body basically because only thing left the t-shirt he wore that night tattered. I want a hamburger – with a vegan patty in the current state of Armageddon it doesn’t look good brethren Xnational that’s why I rock the same hairdo as a Tibetan. No a cheese burger yall overreacting on this meat is murder so is a relentless ethic of work especially when exhausted and it hurt. We’ve been threatened by a heavy weapon. I was reading about Reagan and outline seems Pagan that’s as good for you as dippin Copenhagen spittin telling the surgeon do not beckon the question I love when my gummies are redden. Cancer of the embouchure is more than a Horoscope sign I concur. I want a hot dog. Smothered in mustard covered in meat trimmings ground up chemicals as the fixings. Bought my rhymes with a great bargain from Groupon. Even added a discount photoshopped counterfeit coupon. Creating to the beat the loops on. I don’t know is a Bentley a Rolls Royce because in the back seat the window lowered and I was offered grey poupon do you happen to have another choice. Already had condiments on my weenie. Get off my computer don’t you dare peep my documents. My sentiments exactly the conference in regards to arguments approximates Many inter-nationalities at least 3 continents. Ancestor occupants with these words I’m a biochemist marketing guerrillas in the midst of this mist. We the tapestry of ornaments via the internets correspondents it’s like I’m studied on my own no paperwork to show my doctorate of rocking it. I want a milkshake mixed extra thick so it actually improves my life. Massacre in the streets. Soul gets fasten to the beats. Emotion in a drum pattern. Puts the spirit at ease changes lives makes memories. We reminisce lacking candor look back in retrospect kinesis situational intensity convince myths as the centripetal force drifts making you cause conflicts with the dame you caressed whose early departure has you dismissed flailing arms is a fit temper tantrum get nothing and like it anthem in this for the marathon and beyond whereupon such a large portion of our population is related to Genghis Khan. What was going on? Mating a savage motivation bondage of ancestral astral projections. In a succession of going with aggression. Talking too much now I’m a witness to this confession. I didn’t want to know that nor should you want to share it - in your heart bear with it. I need to check up on what era that was. I want potato chips crisper than a whisper in a dark room embracing solitude twiddling a whisker brisker than podcast radio transistor, he was very bad only did one movie but he was a fister, turned that lifestyle around and became a wonderful listener, except after he kissed her, she fiddled his zipper, polished half handle of liquor, hand cuffs cutoff circulation like a prisoner, as she moved towards his waistline she announced OK noodle, his phone screen lit up he couldn’t get up - his unit wouldn’t get up, Here is the kicker, she addressed yours is so much pinker, than red shade of a swisher, Oh yes it is sir right when she was about to go to town cell phone screen with the rear camera face down accessed a video Oh yes Mister Fisher. Vid featuring a debutante with oily wrist smash grab a sphincter. Homegirl peeped it out the corner of her eye. Jeez Louise Guy, you think she liked it, those are screams of terror why did you video tape and mic it? Payback is real He said no no stop she said you will get nothing and like it.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Bloop Didn't Match Bleep

Flat line monitor they filed with the manufacturer to get truth because bloop didn’t match bleep

Was she dead or deep asleep it takes a large leap of courage to surpass milestones when laid out flat on back thick as a board bright as feather totally do laps passing my stone counting per mile our style lashes out flashes of the bang - boom go sky. They hope when it’s over something changes dramatically like a star fall macho man bar brawl telekinetic script to anyone one whom you bonded importance of existence is something you cannot deny.

Fly by the seat of pants, advance like cash flow, difficult to rap slow, I wanna run it like you need it get roller pinned and kneaded, Hebrew jui-jitsu submission look at what his knee did. Star of David on his playlist we turning off tech on Satur no matter bribery or how you flatter your condolences belated along with ski masks raided should of seen them coming the porch was shaded driveway isolated doctrine confirmed over something we traded urine peptide beaker foggy but perplex this – His best amigo did too much acid like amino so when he was at cathouse heard a whore moan he could only cognate behavior to influence mood balanced hormone as the counterpoint feline payment never transacted fee to wait in line. What skill or excellences are you pursuing how can you portray without any cueing. Hit your marks. Spit in pitch black fire mouth out sparks.

It’s your energy that relay tend to take opposition and sway. Assists their dishin’ drug addicts spinning to get spun on a mission in addition to addiction they act like they don’t lie this is no audition you’re grown why you want permission to ruin your life You see in LA a Bruin cub a forty niner in Long Beach data gets scrubbed unit information placed out of reach. Look what the cat drug in, breeze blew in you could have been somebody a shoo in. Migrated to Peru in a mobile pyramid amongst doubters, its like the shouters are first with inside out lower lip pouters claim to be ballers all they are is browsers knickerbockers shirtless with trousers waving a give me a freebie voucher so I roll with moon howlers now does this overwhelm like towers stimulates give us powers of the third kind and our encounters.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Gun Laws

- No fun wit dem laws especially when encountering rough edges grainy surface with gun laws

- The cause is mass hysteria because amendments put both sides into a predicament

- Wing of the Eagle into action Xnational Activist after a sour apple up spring the people Active Fist raised above the forehead concurrently nobody wants more dead.

- Not even the gunman but what about that run in my states Capitol Sacramento

- Odd… Cell phone is not a weapon 20 trigger pulls the Police can act like a beast, On tempo protest Florida mad man rampaged blood everywhere escorted in handcuffs away facial expression wonder struck departed campus quad

- Dem our rights in dat bill but that bill was proclaimed before our land fell ill Overdose of fluoride oxygen intoxicants horrible supplements processed food and diabetes from too much sugar in condiments

- Now to fix your country don’t be chicken like poultry spend love to arrange a redeeming elixir

- This is precise calculation when you are overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like an exchange of demon trading evil for evil soul grasp tool sickle--- Concise to arbitration overcrowded too many people in population the hypertension trying to keep up with what you commercially demonstrating sort of like is regal viper fang retention seek help contemplating like gleaming shovel off moonshine fickle.

- Everything even your status is the status materialism is the apparatus zero the sum on the abacus but yet the ability to function not be bullied or tempted to destroy yourself or others can be uncontrollable

- Mental health doesn’t have a look so why they judge based on the cover texture ink print of book

- No civilian needs an automatic machine gun. Home protection can be accomplished with 20 gauge is plenty.

- There are more guns in the US than people. So agree with March for our lives. I disagree with anything I’m not feeling and if we all could be a Democracy and meet in the middle we all should be fine with the compromise.

- First person liver body organ problem corking, ostrich keeping dome piece dipped into land chunks hoping not to get things out of proportion

- News was sidetracked Porn Star had protection less sex with President along with a dry cleaner hanger abortion clinic minute men attacking those who look immigrated

- It’s a circle of blood you been initiated. We do not exist in a dystopia but these large organizations can paint whatever portrait they want to fit into an agenda

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++You Can Be Anything

You are where you at in fact you could go where you want to be and you can be anything

So easy to feel like nothing complain and become doubtful with a mouthful of evil they walk in a horrible path of negativity and self-destruction same time place continuum hurting others while they just trying to get through the same as you do. What is this reasoning? Who created the outline? Why if I don’t play ball can’t I get a pass down on the baseline? Appeasing you either got to be a mover and shaker or to the sideline your thrown and labeled a space waster. Money identifies so much. Status class how your friends and family eat continuous and fast. Totally empty posthumous till those on top of the power structure find those beneath humorous. Better teeth greater smile success is subjective. I took the elective to be me why don’t you be you. Underneath all the bogus ideas and understandings I breathe near the 14th of the month only to inhale and not exhale for another 30. If you do business justified you can really be wealthy if you lied play dirty. Landing around the 5th I derail in a matter of moments look sick and pale living again for less than allowed. Now the natural lines in my face is scowled. I want to be an xnational not into whats in or rational I’ve never admired reality TV or what is force fed to me. The world is very fluid with whats not allowed how you make your bread and weather you get a box or become dust when dead. They never said it would be like this but they never stated it wouldn’t or couldn’t I’m tired of the chosen getting a vote I never balloted giving me basically 2 options on major decisions unanimously untalented more than perfected for the future while living slithering past the masses until something so major happens to a loved one a ugly ungloved one frozen in the headline archived content someplace indefinite it is about time. Dig through scorched Earth. Charred ground far fewer giblets in the stew to see self in mirror the spoon is wooden and sipping left a splinter too difficult to survive this nuclear winter.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++To Get Bye

Chatted with an annoying carcass inverted in Caracas on an apparatus and we agreed about this

You’re all I need to get buy

- The voice don’t know but like a bass line I record in mono Remember before I kissed a girl I got mononucleosis and this in general gave me a neurosis if I haven’t kissed how the heck did I get mono

- Punctuality arriving pronto seconds click nimble with the fingertips pulling a combo characterized in metabolic state ketosis

- Fasting near or around roses favorite floral Lotus. To get by stay fly no aeronautics my aerobics consists of verbal trampoline pounce the guardrail carine upon the jet strip Don’t Trip.

- Landing gear engaged to get by clearance from the air traffic controller, just this style is me high roller tip toeing soldier avoiding ebola maintain employment meeting or exceeding quota.

- To get buy you need straight cash homie loads and loaves of bread cheddar or whatever Hamilton greenbacks, paper guap of franklin will do

- To get by Your Blessing will be thee necessity sky beautiful. Open heart to keep it plain and simple more than the crease unfolding the ripple

- To get by clean water fresh air healthy food the ability to create mobility infinitely friends family meditation agility stretching.

- Concept of these scriptures stacks all the to the back of literature willingness be the finesse all this and that’s success

- To get by why try easier to complain make it artificial cause others through the tidal waves stress and strain

- Sitting on your knees sneaker heels tap the back of your button ups Long Barrel at temple. Imagine the thoughts before you’re executed. That process of it’s over. Can you fanaggle? Use communication for survival last chance come at them sideways like a tooth that snaggle

- This snag will either end your current existence begin into a newish dimension an entrance how did these doors swing open? Never let them see you moping. Laugh in the face danger many elements to this for coping.

- Change is a guarantee and you can’t get much of anything so constant. Who can adapt the fastest? Chip up as soon as society is cashless. Global position the system while mapless. I’m going to flow more rap less.

- Concubine colorful sword edge dull, The Ktown market I copped it at in the China shop bull. Tea party porcelain porcupine alarm module.

- iota needs some soda caramel color cola so the bubbles can fix my upset tummy stay scummy my friend is a sin and not funny Lowest on totem pole that explains the mischievous grin

- Never find work attitude be the jerk stay going bizerk at the store with the clerk make it impossible for them to accomplish the mish undertone a smirk relentless and abscessed until they fail find out it all evolved from silly little games your repercussions wrong answer given to test

- Well rounded knew how art felt, Chemicals were spilt and the fumes of the 2nd story would melt. Heartfelt never dealt a hand like that patience is all precious up til you are the doctors patients and he truly evil terrorize a boll weevil wore wild long tail lab coat crazy colors of crayon except no cotton all rayon and he would lay on the guilt deprive of medication till the truly ugly wanted to be killed subconsciously the whispers You’re all I need to get by…..

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junker-town · 5 years ago

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SB Nation Reviews: The Skyhook

Photo by Focus on Sport via Getty Images

PERFORMANCE: 9.7

STYLE: 8.9

OVERALL: 9.3

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s skyhook was unstoppable, even when you knew it was coming. Left leg sweeping across the lane, ready to root itself to the ground like a tree trunk. Right leg bending 90 degrees at the knee, suspended in mid-air. Right arm tucking behind the head before slowly unfurling straight in the air. Left arm raising to protect the inside of the ball ball, then sweeping down into your air space like a floating shield. The same thing, every damn time. And every time, the defense was hopeless.

PERFORMANCE: 9.7

We can’t pinpoint the exact percentage Abdul-Jabbar shot on his patented move, since his heyday predates the internet itself. Our best guess comes via one intrepid blogger named “LamarMatic” who tracked all of Abdul-Jabbar’s skyhooks from the 1983 playoffs. He played in 15 playoff games that season, including 10 against Hall of Fame centers Artis Gilmore and Moses Malone. The results: an even 50 percent on skyhooks while scoring 1.06 points per possession. (For comparison, only two teams scored at least a point per possession on post-up plays during the 2019-20 season). Those efficiency numbers seem like a conservative estimate for his entire body of work, given Abdul-Jabbar’s age (he was 35, the oldest player in the playoffs) and the quality of competition he faced.

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Abdul-Jabbar claims nobody has ever blocked his skyhook head-on. “Maybe a few people got to it, coming to help where I couldn’t see them, but if I knew where someone was, that person was not going to block that shot, because I always got my body in between them and the ball before I released the ball, and it’s impossible to get to it,” Abdul-Jabbar told then-ESPN writer J.A. Adande. He’s wrong that nobody blocked the skyhook — here’s a clip of Wilt Chamberlain swatting the skyhook twice in one play, and here’s one of Ralph Sampson doing the deed — but he certainly captured the feeling any opponents had at the time. It felt unblockable, and there’s nothing more demoralizing than a move that has no defensive counter.

The most important reason the skyhook became unstoppable is also the most boring: Abdul-Jabbar is tall. He was listed at 7’2, but he played much bigger than that. When he fully extended his right arm and leaped into the air off his left foot, he could reach higher than any human ever could. He once told astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson that his release point on the skyhook was “about 10 feet to 11 feet in the air.” That seems about right.

Crucially, Abdul-Jabbar still had the arm strength to give the shot some arc while spinning it off his middle and index fingers. That separates the skyhook from a more traditional jump hook, which tends to be shot on the way up and lacks the soft backspin of the skyhook. It’s easier to think of the skyhook as a one-handed, one-legged, sideways jump shot released at 11 feet, where nobody could block it.

Getting to that point was the key. As Abdul-Jabbar told Adande: “When you shoot it, you force people to wait for you to go up. And if they wait until I started to shoot it then they’d have to judge the distance and time it, and it’s gone before they can catch up to it.”

That all happens because of two other key elements of the move. The first is that wide lefty step across the lane, which creates that barrier between Abdul-Jabbar’s body and the defender. The best way to disrupt the hook is to force him to take that step backward and at an angle, throwing him off-balance. If you made that leg look like this, you had a chance.

Photo by Rich Pilling/NBAE via Getty Images

But that rarely happened. Because Abdul-Jabbar made it a point to step through defenders instead of around them, his left leg stood straight up like an oak tree. They were stuck yielding him space, like so.

Or falling back when the full force of his weight ricocheted off their sides.

That leads us to the final hidden key of the skyhook’s effectiveness: that off arm. Say you do everything perfectly as a defender. You pushed Abdul-Jabbar out on the block. You didn’t let him easily use his left leg to power through you. You’re in his space as much as you possibly can be. Your arm is extended outward to alter the shot. Even if you do all that, you still have no chance to block the shot because Abdul-Jabbar’s other arm is sweeping downward to swipe you away.

Photo by Andrew D. Bernstein/NBAE via Getty Images

Photo by Focus on Sport/Getty Images

Abdul-Jabbar’s success in hiding that off-arm is the most underrated reason why the skyhook has faded into obscurity. Imagine Abdul-Jabbar replicating that very motion over and over in a world where any fan can slow down high-definition video and point out uncalled offensive fouls. Consider the uproar James Harden gets for his own foul hunting, especially on drives to the basket. That noise would be 10 times louder for Abdul-Jabbar’s skyhook. The league would legislate that motion out of the game with a snap of the finger.

That’s at least a more plausible explanation for the shot’s demise than the OK Boomer-style ones Abdul-Jabbar himself offers. At first, he blamed kids emulating high-flyers like Michael Jordan and Julius Erving. From a 1988 New York Times profile:

‘’One main reason is the kids growing up today all want to be like Michael Jordan and Dr. J and Dominique,’’ he said, referring to Julius Erving and Dominique Wilkins. ‘’They want to show great and obvious athletic ability and jump high and shoot jumpers and throw the ball down.’’

Nowadays, he redirects the same argument to different kinds of players.

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“Everyone is so enamored with the three-point shot. So the kids, they don’t want two points. They don’t want to work with their back to the basket. That’s not cool. They want to go out there in the stratosphere and shoot three-pointers.”

Has Abdul-Jabbar ever considered that the reason people don’t shoot hook shots anymore isn’t because it’s not cool, but because it’s impossible for anyone else to put together all the elements necessary to make it a great shot? Speaking of ...

STYLE: 8.9

I’ve never understood the argument that the skyhook isn’t cool. Are these people out of their minds?

Interviews with a half-dozen coaches revealed many of the same answers. The game has changed. It’s a tough shot to learn. It’s not cool. “Teams just don’t walk it up and drop it in the post anymore,” said Pelicans coach Alvin Gentry. Added Thunder assistant coach Mark Bryant: “You aren’t going to get any commercials shooting the skyhook. Only [Kareem] got commercials shooting the skyhook.”

[...]

“The kids don’t like doing it,” Bryant said, laughing. “It kind of boils down to that.”

Lest you think it’s just a few grumpy coaches, even Shaquille O’Neal admitted his generation “likes to be a lot cooler.”

Which hook shot do you think looks cooler? This ...

Or this?

Which shot do you try more when shooting around? It sure as hell ain’t O’Neal’s.

Abdul-Jabbar’s even has an incredible name: skyhook. That’s the term Bucks broadcaster Eddie Doucette used to describe the iconic shot Abdul-Jabbar made to win Game 6 of the 1974 NBA Finals.

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It’s a bit misleading to say that moment was the first usage of the term, as is legend. There’s audio of Doucette using it all the way back in 1970, and you can also hear Pat Summerall (yes, that Pat Summerall), saying “The sky hook is good!” on the TV call. Regardless, read Doucette’s explanation for how he coined the term and tell me this doesn’t sound dope as hell. (Emphasis mine):

“When he went to that baseline and went up for that shot, it was kind of almost eye level with me,” Doucette said. “It felt that way. Everything became slow-motion when he went up for that shot on the baseline. Took it in stride. Went up off his left leg. Perfect balance. Right hand fully extended. Ball on the fingertips. Launched that shot. And as he launched it, it just hit me. ‘That ball is coming out of the sky. That’s a skyhook.’ That’s how it happened. I never gave it any thought. But I had to be in a position where I was located that would inspire me to think that it would be coming out of the sky.”

The idea that the skyhook isn’t cool, then, never sat with me. The real issue is Abdul-Jabbar wasn’t considered cool, not the shot itself. The shot itself is a thing of beauty. As Oscar Robertson once said, ‘’It’s almost a ballet-type shot. There’s so much rhythm and balance in it. It’s almost like a pirouette.”

I’m more sympathetic to the idea that the skyhook isn’t as “macho,” to use Abdul-Jabbar’s words, as a slam dunk or a power move. The idea that one can perfect the skyhook if they just devoted enough attention to it cuts two ways. The shot may look beautiful, but a supremely athletic and strong dude might feel that he doesn’t need to resort to such tricks to do his thing.

This is the same phenomenon that explains why several all-time greats and peers were slow to accept Stephen Curry’s brilliance even as the masses quickly embraced him. His technique was impeccable, but his physical stature seemed ordinary. He didn’t look the part of a superhero. He was no giant.

Like Curry, Abdul-Jabbar’s signature move was to shoot over defenders, not shove them out of the way. But unlike Curry, Abdul-Jabbar did seem like a giant compared to everyone else. Perhaps it would have been more “macho” if he used that physical advantage to plow through his opponents rather than use finesse to succeed. Maybe that’s what O’Neal and others mean when they suggest the skyhook isn’t “cool.”

But if that’s how NBA players really define “cool,” consider me the opposite of Miles Davis. If NBA players could look this iconic shooting a hook shot, I think they’d all do it.

OVERALL: 9.3

Basketball is a technical sport, not a physical one. The best players look like artists and dancers, not boulders. Even Zion Williamson defies our imaginations because of his agility at his size, not because of his body type.

So let this be a call to give the skyhook more love. Instead of grumbling that nobody uses it anymore, let’s appreciate how lucky we were that Abdul-Jabbar made it look so flawless.

0 notes

ts1989fanatic · 7 years ago

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All 115 of Taylor Swift's Songs, Ranked

From teenage country tracks to synth-pop anthems and little-known covers, a comprehensive assessment and celebration of Swift's one-of-a-kind songbook

Taylor Swift the celebrity is such a magnet for attention, she can distract from Taylor Swift the artist. But Swift was a songwriter before she was a star, and she'll be a songwriter long after she graduates from that racket. It's in her music where she's made her mark on history – as a performer, record-crafter, guitar hero and all-around pop mastermind, with songs that can leave you breathless, or with a nasty scar. She was soaring on the level of the all-time greats before she was old enough to rent a car, with the crafty guile of a Carole King and the reckless heart of a Paul Westerberg – and she hasn't exactly slowed down since then.

So with all due respect to Taylor the myth, the icon, the red-carpet tabloid staple, let's celebrate the realTaylor – the songwriter she was born to be. Let's break it down: all 115 tunes, counted from the bottom to the top. The hits, the flops, the deep cuts, the covers, from her raw 2006 debut as a teen country ingénue to "...Ready for It?" – her latest offering. Every fan would compile a different list – that's the beauty of it. But they're not ranked by popularity, sales or supposed celebrity quotient – just the level of Taylor genius on display, from the perspective of a fan who generally does not give a rat's nads who the songs are "really" about. All that matters is whether they're about you and me. (I guarantee you are a more fascinating human than the Twilight guy, though I'm probably not.)

Sister Tay may be the last true rock star on the planet, making brilliant moves (or catastrophic gaffes, because that's what rock stars do). These are the songs that sum up her wit, her empathy, her flair for emotional excess, her girls-to-the-front bravado, her urge to ransack every corner of pop history, her determination to turn any chorus into a ridiculous spectacle. So let's step back from the image and pay homage to her one-of-a-kind songbook – because the weirdest and most fascinating thing about Taylor Swift will always be her music.

115. "Bad Blood" (2014)

Melodically parched, lyrically unfinished, rhythmically clunky – this was a mighty strange pick for a single from an album as loaded as 1989. There are a million things Taylor has in common with Paul McCartney – one is that celebrity grievances tend to sound like a penny-ante waste of their time, even when they're totally understandable (unless you're a fan of Macca's "Dear Boy," where John Lennon is his Katy Perry). The single remix is improved by Kendrick Lamar – but he wasn't saving his A-game for this one.

Best line: "Band-Aids don't fix bullet holes."

114. "Santa Baby" (2007)

Yes, she made a Christmas album, which is full of contenders for the basement of this list. But an oldie about a gold digger wooing Little Saint Nick was perhaps a dubious pick for a singer still in her teens.

Best line: "I've been an awful good girl."

113. "A Place in This World" (2006)

Apprentice work from the debut, when she was still learning the ropes as a country songwriter. Yet, the seeds of greatness are already there. Historical significance: This was the song where Tay discovered rain imagery, which in her hands was the equivalent of Sir Isaac Newton inventing calculus.

Best line: "I'll be strong/I'll be wrong/But life goes on."

112. "Christmas Must Be Something More" (2007)

A hymn about how Jesus is the reason for the season, with the hook, "So here's to the birthday boy who saved our lives." Unlike most boys Swift sings about, Jesus didn't comment publicly.

Best line: "What would happen if God never let it snow?"

111. "I'm Only Me When I'm With You" (2006)

Could there be a less Swiftian sentiment? For better or worse, this girl is always herself. That's kinda the point.

Best line: "I'm only up when you're not down/Don't wanna fly if you're still on the ground."

110. "Two Is Better Than One" With Boys Like Girls (2009)

A long, long, very long duet with former Good Charlotte and Fall Out Boy tourmates Boys Like Girls, who are either from London or Nashville (they seem to switch accents at random).

Best line: "You already got me coming…undone."

109. "Out of the Woods" (2014)

Taylor loves to sing about boyfriends who are terrible drivers, but this guy takes the prize – he crashes her snowmobile and gets 20 stitches in the hospital. Call a cab, girl.

Best line: "Two paper airplanes flying, flying, flying."

108. "Silent Night" (2007)

This bizarre version manages to miss almost every single note in the melody. They sure were in a rush to get this Christmas album out.

Best line: "Shepherds quake at the sight."

107. "Both of Us" With B.o.B (2012)

Nice try at remaking "Airplanes," but that Hayley Williams lightning does not strike twice.

Best line: "Your money's all gone, and you lose your whip."

106. "The Last Time" With Gary Lightbody (2012)

Her duet with the guy from Snow Patrol. Unfortunately, their voices don't mesh at all – what, is he auditioning for a Spandau Ballet tribute band? The funny moment is the très Eighties synth-horn blurp at the three-minute mark.

Best line: "This is the last time I'm asking you this/Put my name at the top of your list."

105. "The Outside" (2006)

Still a rookie, still learning, still trying to get away with "read between the lines" and "the road less traveled by" in the same verse.

Best line: "Nothing ever works the first few times/Am I right?"

104. "Girl at Home" (2012)

A perfunctory cheating-is-bad homily, with barely any chorus.

Best line: "I feel a responsibility/To do what's upstanding and right."

103. "Come in With the Rain" (2008)

She leaves her window open overnight, just in case her ex falls out of a cloud. There's a great "oooh" in the second chorus – one of those moments you can tell she's an Oasis fan. (This song makes you suspect "Don't Look Back In Anger" is a fave.)

Best line: "I could stand up and write you a song/But I don't wanna have to go that far."

102. "Half of My Heart" With John Mayer (2009)

The real prize from his Battle Studies album is "Heartbreak Warfare"; this is lesser J.M., with an underexploited T.S. cameo and an increasingly irritating premise of hearts having fingers, which they don't. No wonder the girl in the dress cried the whole way home.

Best line: "Half of my heart's got a grip on the situation."

101. "The Other Side of the Door" (2008)

Again with the slamming doors. Tay Tay – even the great songwriters can get away with exactly one slamming door per career. And just to be on the safe side, she throws in pouring rain, photo albums, a little black dress (which rhymes with "mess" and "confess"), a guy throwing pebbles at her window….In other words, this would be the ultimate Swift song – except there are a hundred better ones.

Best line: "Me and my stupid pride, sitting here alone/Going through the photographs, staring at the phone."

100. "Superman" (2010)

A Lois Lane fantasy, left off Speak Now for good reason.

Best line: "Tall dark and beautiful/He's complicated, he's so irrational."

99. "Cold as You" (2006)

"I start a fight because I need to feel something" – give her credit for honesty, even in this raw phase.

Best line: "Oh, every smile you fake is so condescending."

98. "If This Was a Movie" (2010)

"Good evening, sir. May I help you? You're a guy in a Taylor Swift song who wants to stand outside the window in the pouring rain, begging the love of your life to forgive your sorry ass? Take a number and get in line. No, that line."

Best line: "But I take it all back now!"

97. "Sweeter Than Fiction" (2013)

A warm-up for the synth-pop of 1989, from the One Chancesoundtrack.

Best line: "What a sight when the light came on."

96. "A Perfectly Good Heart" (2006)

"It's not unbroken anymore"? Paging the eminent cardiologist Dr. Toni Braxton.

Best line: "Why would you wanna make the very first scar?/Why would you wanna break a perfectly good heart?"

95. "White Christmas" (2007)

Unlike "Silent Night," this was a yuletide carol she could handle, with a straight-down-the-middle country rendition.

Best line: "Where the treetops glisten."

94. "Never Grow Up" (2010)

A folksy fingerpicking change of pace on Speak Now, pining for childhood innocence – though it feels more like a leftover from the debut.

Best line: "You're mortified your mom's dropping you off."

93. "I Don’t Wanna Live Forever" With Zayn Malik (2016)

Neither she nor Zayn sound deeply interested in this dueling-falsettos battle from the Fifty Shades Darker soundtrack. Maybe it works in the movie, but who wants to go find out? Really, they sound like two ghosts standing in the place of…sorry, sore subject, let's drop it.

Best line: "I've been feeling sad in all the nicest places."

92. "You Are in Love" (2014)

One of her through-the-years romances, this one featuring a snow globe.

Best line: "For once you let go of your fears and your ghosts."

91. "Mary's Song (Oh My My)" (2006)

Another through-the-years romance, but with a sweet homespun touch.

Best line: "I'll be 87, you'll be 89/I'll still look at you like the stars that shine in the sky."

90. "Highway Don't Care" With Tim McGraw and Keith Urban (2013)

A duet from McGraw's album Two Lanes of Freedom, with a guitar solo from Keith Urban. The plot: His ex is driving away, listening to a Taylor song on the radio, as Tay tries to coax the woman into turning the car around and going home. Perhaps McGraw's finest duet since his great lost Nelly jam, "Over & Over."

Best line: "I bet you're bending God's ear talking 'bout me."

89. "Change" (2008)

Oh, the fall of 2008 – Chuck and Blair were still an item, Suede was killing it on Project Runway, and "Change" was a de facto victory song for Obama, complete with a thumbs-up for "the revolution." Yeah, those were different times.

Best line: "These walls that they put up to hold us back will fall down."

88. "Nashville" (2010)

A cover of an obscurity by country singer David Mead, tucked away as a bonus on the Target edition of the Speak Now Tour Live DVD.

Best line: "Was that a blood or wine stain on your wedding dress?"

87. "The Sweet Escape" (2010)

From the same live DVD, a remake of the Gwen Stefani solo hit. Taylor's vocal sure fits the Gwen just-a-girl sensibility.

Best line: "I must apologize for acting stank."

86. "Look What You Made Me Do" (2017)

The reason fans once cared about rap beefs: They inspired great songs, whether it was Queens vs. the Bronx ("The Bridge" vs. "The Bridge Is Over" vs. "Have a Nice Day") or LL Cool J vs. Kool Moe Dee ("How Ya Like Me Now" vs. "Jack the Ripper" vs. "Let's Go" vs. "To Da Break of Dawn"). But this just sounds like a trivial time-waster by her standards – Swift's celebrity feuds are not really one of the hundred most interesting things about her. The main attraction here is the retro Panic! at the Disco vibe. Here's hoping it gets outshined by the rest of Reputation, the way "Shake It Off" was instantly eclipsed by the rest of 1989.

Best line: "It's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality." Oh wait – that actually is Panic! at the Disco.

85. "Stay Beautiful" (2006)

An early stab at a take-the-high-road breakup song.

Best line: "He whispers songs into my window."

84. "I Want You Back" (2010)

A live acoustic tribute to the then-recently departed Michael Jackson, with a bit of Motown tremble in her voice.

Best line: "Now it's much too late for me to take a second look."

83. "The Way I Loved You" (2008)

She meets a low-stress boy who doesn't want love to be torture. Alas, this suitor is toast, because he reminds her how much she misses the manic pixie drama vampire she dated before. Sorry, dude – she loves the players, and she loves the game.

Best line: "He respects my space/And never makes me wait."

82. "Thug Story" With T-Pain (2009)

The classic T-Pain and Taylor duet from the 2009 CMT Awards, still T-Swizzle's finest rap performance.

Best line: "No, I never really been in a club/Still live with my parents, but I'm still a thug/I'm so gangsta you can find me baking cookies at night/You out clubbing, but I just made caramel delight."

81. "I Wish You Would" (2014)

One of her many, many songs set at 2 a.m. – clearly the most inspiring hour on Swift Standard Time – with a staccato disco guitar lick.

Best line: "We were a crooked love in a straight line down."

80. "Umbrella" (2008)

The Rihanna hit, briefly covered on the Live in SoHo digital album. Her finest Ri tribute remains her 2011 version of "Live Your Life" with T.I. onstage in Atlanta – sadly unreleased, but a duet that deserves to be enshrined for the ages.

Best line: "Stand under my umbrella, ella, ella."

79. "I Heart ?" (2008)

The trad country sound she soon left behind, from her Beautiful EyesEP.

Best line: "Wake up, and smell the breakup/Fix my heart, put on my makeup."

78. "Breathe" (With Colbie Caillat) (2008)

A gorgeous duet full of low-key nuances – her humming after the first verse, that "sorry, sorry, sorry" fade, the way Colbie's voice lifts hers.

Best line: "It's tragedy, and it'll only bring you down."

77. "The Moment I Knew" (2012)

A somber piano ballad about getting stood up on your 21st birthday.

Best line: "There in the bathroom/I try not to fall apart."

76. "Untouchable" (2008)

A rare case where she retools somebody else's song on one of her proper albums – the all-but-unknown Y2K-era rock band Luna Halo, who went on to open for Hoobastank. Her Fearless version sounds practically nothing like their original (though both name-check .38 Special's Eighties classic "Caught Up in You"). In fact, it's tough to fathom how she heard the original as raw material she could use – now that's ears.

Best line: "In the middle of the night when I'm in this dream/It's like a million little stars spelling out your name."

75. "Pour Some Sugar On Me" With Def Leppard (2008)

She makes a daring leap into the hair-metal mom market by teaming up with Def Leppard on CMT Crossroads, a move that works almost frighteningly well. Peak glam, especially when she asks the gender-torching question, "Demolition woman, can I be your man?"

Best line: "Do you take sugar? One lump or two?"

74. "Christmases When You Were Mine" (2007)

Taylor writes her own ace lovelorn holiday standard, ambushing her ex with one of those squirm-packed Merry-Christmas phone calls. Awkward question: "When you were putting up the lights this year/Did you notice one less pair of hands?" Eat your heart out, Mariah.

Best line: "I bet you got your mom another sweater."

73. "American Girl" (2009)

A bang-up claim on the Tom Petty classic – she used his original as her live entrance music for a while. Then she switched to Lenny Kravitz's "American Woman."

Best line: "Oh yeah! All right!"

72. "Invisible" (2006)

A teen ditty about a boy who doesn't realize she's alive, from pretty much the last moment in history that was possible. Clever pop-obsessive touch: The final steel-guitar twang echoes Elton John's "Rocket Man." If you think that's an accident…this is Planet Tay. There are no accidents.

Best line: "We could be a beautiful miracle, unbelievable, instead of just invisible."

71. "Jump Then Fall" (2008)

Ironclad rule of pop music: Songs about jumping are never a bad idea. Dig that "listens to Sublime once" vocal.

Best line: "I watch you talk, you didn't notice."

70. "Breathless" (2010)

Digging deep in the Nineties modern-rock crates, she does right by a previously obscure (to me) nugget from the New Orleans band Better Than Ezra – from 2005!, 10 years after their MTV hit! – as a charity benefit for the Hope for Haiti Now album.

Best line: "I'll never judge you/I can only love you."

69. "Superstar" (2008)

"You smile that beautiful smile, and all the girls in the front row scream your name." No relation to the 1970s Leon Russell ballad immortalized by the Carpenters – except they're both poignant ballads about groupies crushing on distant guitar boys. Well, as Journey warned, lovin' a music man ain't always what it's supposed to be.

Best line: "You sing me to sleep every night from the radio."

68. "Crazier" (2009)

Her ballad from Hannah Montana: The Movie, snagging her a cameo in the film. (But the highlight of the soundtrack will always be "Hoedown Throwdown.") This is where Taylor and Miley crossed light sabers – although they'd meet again. Great title, too – even Taylor might probably admit Miley had her beat in this department, at least until the "Blank Space" video.

Best line: "Every sky was your own kind of blue."

67. "Innocent" (2010)

Little-known fact: Did you know Kanye West once went onstage to interrupt Swift's acceptance speech at the VMAs and threw a misogynist tantrum about how she didn't deserve an award? Strange but true! "Innocent" was her song publicly forgiving him – seven freaking years ago – then they both released brilliant albums, and we all moved on with our lives. Dear Lord, if only this story had ended there.

Best line: "It's okay/Life is a tough crowd."

66. "Come Back…Be Here" (2012)

A yearning prayer for a rock & roll boy on tour, weak in the knees as she pleads for him to jet back on any terms he chooses.

Best line: "I guess you're in London today."

65. "Tied Together With a Smile" (2006)

An unsung highlight of the debut – a teen pep talk about self-esteem.

Best line: "Seems the only one who doesn't see your beauty/Is the face in the mirror looking back at you."

64. "Last Christmas" (2007)

Tay does the Wham! legacy proud – she should have also covered "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go." The ache and quaver of her voice fit the George Michael melancholy; this might be the saddest "Last Christmas" since the original. Plenty of us communed with this version last Christmas, the night we said goodbye to the guy who wrote it. R.I.P., George Michael.

Best line: "A girl on a cover, but you tore her apart."

63. "Tell Me Why" (2008)

From Neil Young to the Beatles, "Tell Me Why" songs are tough to screw up, and even at 19, Tay's too seasoned to let that happen.

Best line: "I need you like a heartbeat/But you know you got a mean streak."

62. "Beautiful Eyes" (2008)

If you're a fan of Swift's Nineties modern-rock radio jones – one of her most fruitful long-running obsessions – check out this shameless tribute to the Cranberries. (But did she have to let it linger? Did she have to? Did she have to?)

Best line: "Baby, make me fly."

61. "Everything Has Changed" (2012)

She and Ed Sheeran wrote this duet together in her backyard while bouncing on a trampoline, because of course they did.

Best line: "All I've seen since 18 hours ago is green eyes and freckles and your smile."

60. "Love Story" (2008)

Romeo meets Juliet: proof that star-crossed teen romances never go out of style. She's kept going back to the well of Shakespearean tragedy, quoting Julius Caesar in the "Look What You Made Me Do" video. It's never been clear what the line "I was a scarlet letter" is doing in this song, but now it's a hint that Tay was just a few years away from going full Hester Prynne in "New Romantics."

Best line: "Just say yes."

59. "Speak Now" (2010)

In real-life weddings, the preacher hardly ever invites the groom's ex up to interrupt the ceremony. But if you're a fan of Tay in stalker mode, this is priceless – crouching behind the curtains in the back of the church, waiting to pounce. "Horrified looks from everyone in the room" – you don't say.

Best line: "It seems I was uninvited by your lovely bride-to-be."

58. "Shake It Off" (2014)

A clever transitional single – great verses, grating chorus, pithy lyrics with a shout-out to her obvious inspiration, Robyn's "Dancing on My Own." As a lead single, "Shake It Off" might have seemed meager after 1989 came out – she was holding back "Blank Space" and "Style" and (Lord have mercy) "New Romantics" for this? But "Shake It Off" got the job done, serving as a trailer to announce her daring Eighties synth-pop makeover.

Best line: "It's like I got this music in my head, saying it's gonna be all right."

57. "Better Than Revenge" (2010)

One of the basic rules of stardom is "never punch down" – don't go after somebody one-thousandth as famous as you – but rules were made to be broken, and Taylor is the girl made to break them. Here, she goes Bruce Lee on a sexual rival who may or may not be the actress who had Alyssa Milano as her babysitter in the erotic thriller Poison Ivy 2. But as usual with Swift, her self-owns are the funniest part of the song.

Best line: "She thinks I'm psycho because I like to rhyme her name with things."

56. "Welcome to New York" (2014)

People sure do love to complain about this song – in fact, the most authentically New York thing about it is how it sends people into spasms of mouth-foaming outrage. An explicitly queer-positive disco ode to arrivistes stepping out in the city that invented disco – "You can want who you want, boys and boys and girls and girls" – that will be bugging the crap out of you in rom-coms for years to come. (It made me throw a napkin at my in-flight screen during How to Be Single, when Dakota Johnson's cab is going the wrong way on the Brooklyn Bridge – and I love this song.) Bumped up a few bonus notches for pissing everyone off, since that's one of this girl's superpowers.

Best line: "Searching for a sound we hadn't heard before/And it said welcome to New York."

55. "Drops of Jupiter" (2010)

I mistakenly thought this Train hit was deep-fried garbage until I heard Swift's version and realized, "Hey, she's right – this is the best soy latte I've ever had!" Props to Tay for bringing out the hidden greatness in this song – the stargazing lyrics and her voice go together like Mozart and tae bo. (The astrophysicist in my life would like me to point out that you can't "make it to the Milky Way" because that's the galaxy we already live in. In fact, you couldn't leave the Milky Way if you tried. Science!)

Best line: "Tell me, did Venus blow your mind?"

54. "Haunted" (2010)

Enchanted to meet you, Goth Taylor. We'll meet again.

Best line: "Something keeps me holding on to nothing."

53. "Today Was a Fairy Tale" (2011)

Don't let the title scare you away – it's a plainspoken and genuinely touching play-by-play recap of a worthwhile date. In fact, "Today Was a Fairy Tale" and "If This Was a Movie" should trade titles, since this one feels realer and would make a better movie. It could rank higher, except she hugely improved it when she rewrote it as "Begin Again." (Docked a couple notches for coming from the soundtrack of Valentine's Day, which is the most dog-vomit flick Jessica Alba has ever made, and I say that as someone who paid money to see The Love Guru.)

Best line: "I wore a dress/You wore a dark gray T-shirt."

52. "All You Had to Do Was Stay" (2014)

A 1989 banger that could have made an excellent single – it sounds a bit like "Out of the Woods," except with a livelier chorus and a stormier range of electro-Tay sound effects.

Best line: "Let me remind you that this was what you wanted."

51. "Eyes Open" (2012)

Finally, her long-overdue metal move, from The Hunger Games: Songs from District 12 and Beyond.

Best line: "Every lesson forms a new scar."

50. "Treacherous" (2012)

"Put your lips next to mine/As long as they don't touch" – now there's an entrance line. Taylor braves the ski slopes of love, with a seething acoustic guitar that finally detonates halfway though.

Best line: "Nothing safe is worth the drive."

49. "You Belong With Me" (2008)

One of her most pop-friendly early hits, singing in the role of a high school geek crushing on her best guy friend. When he comes out in college, they'll have a few laughs about this. (And never let us forget the wisdom of Alicia Silverstone in Clueless: "Searching for a boy in high school is as useless as searching for meaning in a Pauly Shore movie."

Best line: "She wears high heels, I wear sneakers/She's cheer captain, and I'm on the bleachers."

48. "I Almost Do" (2012)

A Red slow jam that could have worked even better sped up into a punked-out rocker – though it's plenty affecting as is.

Best line: "Every time I don't, I almost do."

47. "...Ready for It?" (2017)

If by "it" you mean "literally any song that isn't 'Look What You Made Me Do,'" the answer is "extremely ready." A major rebound from her previous release, a week earlier – the chorus of this one actually sounds like a Swift song, with a little air in the mix, giving the room she needs to pull off her intricate breathy effects. Max Martin knows how to shape a production around her voice. A hopeful omen for the rest of Repu TAY shun (hey, I just got that).

Best line: "You can be my jailor/Burton to my Taylor."

46. "Stay Stay Stay" (2012)

"Before you, I only dated self-indulgent takers" – but here she turns into a self-indulgent taker herself and (surprise!) she likes it, a phone-throwing nightmare dressed like a grocery-shopping daydream. She finally meets a guy who can roll with her mood swings – even if she's more in love with the mood swings than with the guy.

Best line: "You came in wearing a football helmet and said, 'Okay, let's talk.'"

45. "Safe and Sound" (2012)

She ventures into rootsy folkie territory on the Hunger Gamessoundtrack, teaming up with the Civil Wars and producer T Bone Burnett, exploring crevices of her voice she hadn't opened up before. Everyone steps out of their comfort zone, and it works. The Swift-Burnett connection raises the question of how long it'll take her to collaborate with Elvis Costello, a songwriter with whom she shares some fascinating affinities. At the very least, Tay should cover "New Lace Sleeves."

Best line: "Don't you dare look out your window, darling/Everything's on fire."

44. "Ronan" (2012)

A little-known charity single for cancer research, unlike anything else in her songbook. She wrote this about Ronan Thompson, a four-year-old Arizona boy who died of neuroblastoma, after she read his mom's blog. She turned the blog entries into a disarmingly eloquent ballad (crediting Maya Thompson as co-writer) and performed "Ronan" at the Stand Up to Cancer benefit. You might expect it to be manipulative and obvious; it isn't.

Best line: "We had our own secret club."

43. "You're Not Sorry" (2008)

A dramatic piano-and-strings ballad from Fearless, showing off how much her voice has deepened between her first two albums.

Best line: "It's taken me this long, baby, but I figured you out."

42. "I Know Places" (2014)

She goes all Kate Bush, pursued across the moors by the hounds of love. This 1989 deep cut is underrated, but count on "I Know Places" to loom large in her canon over the years.

Best line: "My love, they are the hunters, we are the foxes."

41. "Bette Davis Eyes" (2010)

Her kickiest left-field cover, from Speak Now Live. "I'd love to play you some music that I'm a fan of that's come from L.A. – is that OK?" she asks the West Coast crowd, strumming her guitar. "This one came out in 1981 – eight years before I was born!" Virtually nobody seems to recognize it or sing along. Kim Carnes hit Number One with "Bette Davis Eyes," but it was written by the great Jackie DeShannon, the only songwriter to collaborate with both Randy Newman and Jimmy Page. (Page wrote "Tangerine" for DeShannon!) The fact that Swift loves this classic ode to romantic espionage explains a lot.

Best line: "She's pure as New York snow/She's got Bette Davis eyes."

40. "Wonderland" (2014)

Why did it take her five albums to get to Alice in Wonderland? Needless to say, Taylor Alison Swift fits right in on the other side of the looking glass, with white rabbits and Cheshire cats. Feed your head!

Best line: "It's all fun and games till someone loses their mind."

39. "The Lucky One" (2012)

She's so lucky, she's a star. For the record, T.S. did cover "Lucky" live once (and damn well, too), as a Britney tribute in Louisiana back in 2011.

Best line: "It's big black cars and Riviera views/And your lover in the foyer doesn't even know you."

38. "Wildest Dreams" (2014)

You rang, Goth Taylor? At first this might have seemed like a minor pleasure on 1989, but it really sounds stronger and stronger over the years, especially when she hiccups the words "my last request ih-ih-is." The video features giraffes and zebras.

Best line: "He's so tall and handsome as hell/He's so bad, but he does it so well."

37. "White Horse" (2008)

Teen Romantic Tay meets Bitter Adult Tay in a superbly disenchanted breakup ballad that gives up on princesses and fairy tales.

Best line: "I'm not the one you'll sweep off her feet/Lead up the stairwell."

36. "Starlight" (2012)

"Oh my, what a marvelous tune" seems like a dauntingly quaint chorus, yet she makes it stick, in what sounds like an F. Scott Fitzgerald-themed whirlwind romance. That hook comes straight from the AC/DC playbook (specifically, the opening lines of "You Shook Me All Night Long") – the sign of a truly sick pop scholar.

Best line: "We snuck into a yacht-club party/Pretending to be a duchess and a prince."

35. "Picture to Burn" (2006)

The dawn of Petty AF Tay, as she serves her ex beatdown threats. Every boy who ever complained when Taylor wrote about him – this is where you officially got fair warning.

Best line: "Let me strike a match on all my wasted time."

34. "Forever and Always" (2008)

She added this to Fearless at the last minute – just what the album needed. It's a blast of high-energy JoBro-baiting aggro on her most anomalously shade-free album. "It rains in your bedroom" is a very on-brand Tay predicament.

Best line: "Did I say something too honest? Made you run and hide like a scared little boy?"

33. "Back to December" (2010)

One of the rare ballads where she goes crawling back to an ex she treated like dirt – and she's surprisingly effective in the role. Although breaking into the guy's house is a little extreme. (If she's blocked by the chain on his door, that means she already picked the lock, right?) And sorry, but you're seriously dreaming if you think I'm bothering to Google the name of that Twilight guy, don't @ me.

Best line: "It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you."

32. "The Best Day" (2008)

Her tribute to Mama Swift. A weapons-grade tearjerker and not to be trifled with in a public place. NSFW, unless you are a professional crier.

Best line: "You were on my side/Even when I was wrong."

31. "The Story of Us" (2010)

You could credit this hit with single-handedly driving John Mayer out of the pop heartthrob business and into the Grateful Dead – which is just one of the things to love about it. Along with the Joey Ramone-style way she says, "Next chapter!"

Best line: "See me nervously pulling at my clothes and trying to look busy."

30. "How You Get the Girl" (2014)

She busts out her trusty acoustic guitar, teardrop stains and all, just to turn it into a beatbox.

Best line: "Stand there like a ghost shaking in the rain/She'll open up the door and say 'Are you insane?'"

29. "Hey Stephen" (2010)

Loaded with classic girl-group flourishes, right from the opening "Be My Baby" drum beat. Plus, it begins and ends with her finest humming solos. If she wanted to hum on every song, she could make that work.

Best line: "All those other girls, well, they're beautiful/But would they write a song for you?"

28. "Should've Said No" (2006)

A pissed-off highlight of the debut, with an Oasis-worthy chorus. Savor the perfect Liam Gallagher way she milks the vowels of "begging for forgiveness at my fee-ee-eet."

Best line: "It was a moment of weakness, and you said yes."

27. "Last Kiss" (2010)

Toward the end of Speak Now, when you're already wrung out from sad songs and begging for mercy, this six-minute quasi-doo-wop ballad creeps up on you to inflict more punishment. One of those flawless Nathan Chapman productions – so sparse, so delicate, flattering every tremor of her voice.

Best line: "I'm not much for dancing, but for you I did."

26. "Teardrops on My Guitar" (2006)

One of her defining early smashes – and the one that marked her crucial crossover to the minivan-mom adult audience, where country stars do most of their business. It also inspired the first anti-Taylor answer song – Joe Jonas sang, "I'm done with superstars/And all the tears on her guitar" in 2009, on the JoBros' instantly forgotten Lines, Vines and Trying Times.

Best line: "Drew walks by me/Can he tell that I can't breathe?"

25. "Sad Beautiful Tragic" (2012)

She must have heard a Mazzy Star song on the radio that morning and thought, "Hey, this sounds like fun." All the details are in place, from her woozy Hope Sandoval mumble to the way Nathan Chapman nails Sandoval's exact tambourine sound. Such an underrated Red gem, one she's almost never done live. Would any other songwriter on Earth have the sheer gall to get away with that title? Let's hope nobody tries.

Best line: "You've got your demons, and, darling, they all look like me."

24. "Mine" (2010)

"You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter" is one of those hooks where she seems to cram a whole life story into one line.

Best line: "I was a flight risk with a fear of falling."

23. "This Love" (2014)

A meditative 1989 nocturne – half acoustic introspection, half electro reverie – as she genuflects in the midnight hour.

Best line: "I could go on and on/And I will."

22. "22" (2012)

Approximately 22,000 times more fun than actually being 22. The best song about turning the double deuce since Neil Young's "Powderfinger," if not the Stratford 4's "Telephone," it's also her first shameless disco trip, with that Nile Rodgers-style guitar flash. But the power move is that "uh oh" into the chorus – the oldest trick in the book, except she makes it sound brand new every time.

Best line: "This place is too crowded, too many cool kids."

21. "Mean" (2010)

A banjo-core Tay-visceration of people who are mean, liars, pathetic, and/or alone in life, including the ones who live in big old cities. Always a concert highlight, showcasing her murderers' row of a band, the Agency.

Best line: "Drunk and grumbling on about how I can't sing."

20. "I Knew You Were Trouble" (2012)

It slams like a lost Blondie hit, from somewhere between Parallel Lines and Eat to the Beat. The way she sings the word "drown-i-i-i-ing" alone makes it.

Best line: "He was long gone when he met me/And I realize the joke is on me."

19. "Tim McGraw" (2006)

We knew she was trouble when she walked in – or at least we should have guessed from her debut single. You couldn't make this up – a nervy high school kid shows up with a country ballad she whipped together after math class one day, about slow dancing in the moonlight to the pickup truck radio: "When you think Tim McGraw/I hope you think of me." Within a couple of years, she's an even bigger star than McGraw is.

Best line: "He said the way my blue eyes shined/Put those Georgia pines to shame that night/I said, 'That's a lie.'"

18. "Style" (2014)

Not always a subtle one, our Tay. This extremely 1986-sounding synth-pop groove is full of hushed-breath melodrama, where even the guy taking off his coat can feel like a plot twist. (Why would he keep his coat on? This is his apartment.) And the long-running songwriting badminton between her and Harry Allegedly is pop call-and-response the way it ought to be – no matter how much misery it might bring into their personal lives, for the rest of us it means one great tune after another. (Yeah, OK, plus the one about the snowmobile.)

Best line: "You got that James Dean daydream look in your eye/And I got that red lip classic thing that you like."

17. "State of Grace" (2012)

She opens Red with one of her grandest love songs in arena-rock drag, and the U2 vibe makes sense since she's also got a red guitar and the truth. If "State of Grace" is her U2 song, what's the U2 song that sounds most like Taylor? Probably "All I Want Is You," though you could make a strong case for "A Sort of Homecoming."

Best line: "Up in your room and our slates are clean/Twin fire signs, four blue eyes."

16. "Sparks Fly" (2010)

"Drop everything now! Meet me in the pouring rain!" Oh, this girl loves her precipitation scenes, but "Sparks Fly" really brings the thunder. It shows off her uncanny power to make a moment sound gauchely private and messily public at the same time. (The new Waxahatchee album has another excellent song called "Sparks Fly" – no relation.)

Best line: "Just keep on keeping your eyes on me."

15. "Fifteen" (2008)

"In your life you'll do bigger things than date the boy on the football team/I didn't know that at 15." Still south of her twenties, she sings her compassionately, sisterly yet hardass advice to her fellow teenage girls. (Spoiler: Boys are always lying about everything.)

Best line: "We both cried."

14. "Ours" (2010)

Like so many of her songs, "Ours" sounds like it could be channeling the 16-blue mojo of the Replacements' punk-rock bard Paul Westerberg. (Melodically, it evokes "When It Began," though it feels more like "I Will Dare.") Especially the best line, which is possibly the best-est "best line" on this list, and which I sing to myself a mere dozen times a day.

Best line: "Don't you worry your pretty little mind/People throw rocks at things that shine."

13. "Begin Again" (2012)

"You said you never met one girl who had as many James Taylor records as you," indeed. Sweet Baby Tay drops a deceptively simple ballad that sneaks up and steamrolls all over you, as an unmelodramatic coffee date leads to an unmelodramatic emotional connection. She's always been outspoken about her mad love for her namesake JT and Carly Simon, but "Begin Again" could be the finest collabo they never wrote.

Best line: "You don't know why I'm coming off a little shy/But I do."

12. "Fearless" (2008)

Oh, Fearless, it's easy to take you for granted sometimes. The first time I heard her sophomore record (the record company literally played it over the phone for me because they were so afraid of it leaking) I thought, "Holy cats, this is a perfect pop album. She'll never top this." Then she topped it three times in a row, to the point where it's one of history's most curiously overlooked perfect pop albums. The title anthem gathers so many of her favorite tropes in one chorus – rain, cars, fancy dresses, boys who stare at her while driving instead of watching the damn road, shy girls posing as brave and faking it till they make it – and builds up to a swoon.

Best line: "You're so cool, run your hands through your hair/Absent-mindedly making me want you."

11. "Enchanted" (2010)

The moment where this bittersweet symphony leaps from a nine to a 10 comes at the 4:25 point, when it feels like the song has reached its logical conclusion, until the Interior Monologue Voice-Over Taylor beams in to whisper: "Please don't be in love with someone else/Please don't have somebody waiting on you." In the final seconds, for the coup de grace, she duets with herself.

Best line: "The lingering question kept me up at 2 a.m./Who do you love?"

10. "Our Song" (2006)

The hit that made me a Swift fan, the first moment I heard it in 2007 – it knocked me sideways in the middle of lunch. (The CW played it as interstitial music between afternoon reruns of the Clueless sitcom and What I Like About You.) "Our song is a slamming screen door," what a genius hook. I Googled to see who wrote this; it turned out the songwriter was also the singer and – how strange – she was just starting out. I hoped she might have at least another great tune or two in her. This song and that voice have kept slamming those screen doors ever since.

Best line: "We're on the phone, and you talk reeeeeal slow/'Cause it's late and your mama don't know."

9. "Red" (2012)

The mission statement for Red, this century's most ridiculously masterful megapop manifesto. Eurodisco plus banjos – the glitter-cowgirl totality Shania Twain spent years trying to perfect, with a color-tripping lyric worthy of Prince himself, faster than the wind, passionate as sin. Plus, her all-time gnarliest pileup of Swiftian metaphors. (Nitpick: What kind of crossword puzzle has no right answer? What self-respecting puzzlemaster would sign off on that?)

Best line: "Lovin' him was like driving a new Maserati down a dead-end street."

8. "Clean" (2014)

Love is the drug. "Clean" is the stark synth-folk ballad of an infatuation junkie struggling through some kind of detox, with a big assist from Imogen Heap. An intense finale for the all-killer homestretch of 1989.

Best line: "Ten months sober, I must admit/Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it."

7. "Holy Ground" (2012)

Nobody does zero-to-60 emotional peel outs like our girl, and "Holy Ground" is her equivalent of Evel Knievel jumping the Snake River Canyon. Note the sly brilliance of how she steals that Eighties guitar riff from none other than Billy Idol, making this her "White Wedding" as well as her "Rebel Yell." (Though the lyrics are about dancing with herself.) A highlight on the Red tour, showcasing Tay's drum-solo skills.

Best line: "Hey, you skip the conversation when you already know."

6. "Dear John" (2010)

A slow-burning, methodical, precise, savage dissection of a failed quasi-relationship, with no happy ending, no moral, no solution, not even a lesson learned – just a bad memory filed away. "Dear John" might sound like she's spontaneously pouring her heart out, but it takes one devious operator to make a song this intricate feel that way. ("You're an expert at sorry and keeping lines blurry and never impressed by me acing your tests" – she makes all that seem like one gulp of breath.) Every line stings, right down to the end when she switches from "I should have known" to "You should have known."

Best line: "I'm shining like fireworks over your sad empty town."

5. "We Are Never Getting Back Together" (2012)

Like, ever. Her funniest breakup jam, because it's her most self-mocking. She could have made the guy in this song a shady creep—a cheater, a liar, a scarf-stealer, etc. But, no, he's just a needy little run-of-the-mill basket case, exactly like her, making the same complaints about her to his own bored friends, though his complaints can't be as catchy as this chorus. And the video is a gem, especially when she's wearing the Tay Is Seriously Mad Now glasses. Where is that indie-rock bar that still has a pay phone?

Best line: "I mean, I'm just like, this is exhausting, OK?

4. "Blank Space" (2014)

A double-venti celebration of serial monogamy for Starbucks lovers everywhere, as Tay zooms through the whole cycle – the high, the pain, the players, the game, magic, madness, heaven, sin. Every second of "Blank Space" is perfect, from the pen clicks to the "nasss-taaaay-scarrr" at the end. The high might not be worth the pain, but this song is.

Best line: "Darling, I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream."

3. "Long Live" (2010)

This is her "Common People," her "Born to Run," her "We Are the Champions." An arena-slaying rock anthem to cap off Speak Now, for an ordinary girl who suddenly gets to feel like she rules the world for a minute or two. "Long Live" could be a gang of friends, a teen couple at the prom, a singer addressing her audience. But like so many songs on Speak Now, her secret prog album, it reaches a point where it feels like it's over and Tay's bringing it in for a landing, except that's when the song gets twice as good. In the final verse, she makes a gigantic mess. (Actual lyric: "Promise me this/That you'll stand by me forever." WTF, girl, you were doing so well there.) Yet that's the moment that puts "Long Live" over the top – a song nobody else could have written, as she rides those power chords home. That's Taylor: always overdoing it, never having one feeling where six would do. Long live.

Best line: "I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you."

2. "New Romantics" (2014)

The way Taylor exhales at the end of the line "I'm about to play my ace-aaah" is perhaps the finest moment in the history of human lungs. "New Romantics" is where she takes the Eighties synth-pop concept of 1989 to the bank, with a mirror-ball epiphany that leaves tears of mascara all over the dance floor. She tips her cap to the arty poseurs of the 1980s New Romantic scene – Duran Duran, Adam Ant, the Human League, etc. – yet sounds exactly like her own preposterously emotional self. (One of my weirdest moments of recent years: explaining this song's existence to the guys in Duran Duran.) "New Romantics" is hardly the first time she's sung about crying in the bathroom, but it's the one that makes crying in the bathroom sound like a bold spiritual quest, which (when she sings about it) it is. The punch line: Having written this work of genius, exceeding even the wildest hopes any fan could have dreamed, she left it off the damn album, a very New Romantic thing to do.

Best line: "We show off our different scarlet letters/Trust me, mine is better."

1. "All Too Well" (2012)

So casually cruel in the name of being awesome. This towering ballad is Swift's zenith, building to peak after peak. For "All Too Well," she teams up with her trustiest collaborators – songwriting sensei Liz Rose, producer Nathan Chapman – to spin a tragic tale of doomed love and scarves and autumn leaves and maple lattes. It's full of killer moments: the way she sings "refrigerator," the way she spits out the consonants of "crumpled-up piece of paper," the way she chews up three "all"s in a row. No other song does such a stellar job of showing off her ability to blow up a trivial little detail into a legendary heartache. (That scarf should be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, though in a way it already is.) You can schaeden your freude all over the celebrity she reputedly sings about, but on the best day of your life you will never inspire a song as great as "All Too Well." Or write one.

Best line: "Maybe we got lost in translation/Maybe I asked for too much/Maybe this thing was a masterpiece till you tore it all up/Running scared, I was there, I remember it all too well."

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grumpyzutara · 7 years ago

Text

A Burning Touch

No bending and altered timeline. The setup to the real plot is a meh, but you can't just jump into relationships with soulmate AUs, you know? Part 2 of 4 for the Soulmate Series.

(1) (2) (3) (4)

It would be startling for a baby to be born with a tattoo of a name on their soft, newborn skin, potentially even a name of someone not born yet. So it was something that slowly revealed itself, like a tan line after wearing the same shirt style through the sunny months. You hardly notice the color difference until suddenly - it's there.

Typically the tattoos showed up after puberty hit. There was no given time in your life that they had to show up by, but more often it would be within a year or two. It was also not a guarantee that a name would show up.

When Katara first started to see the faint lines on her thigh darken, the first signs that a name would appear, she decided now was not the time to know. The Fire Nation had started a war with the world and she didn't have time to think about her soulmate. The soldiers had come and terrorized their small village, killing those who stood in their way. Kya, Katara's mother, never backed away and stood her ground. In the end though, she was struck down. The next day she died.

With a tattoo on her outer thigh though, she could easily ignore it. She could push the thought away and was successful at it. Even after finding the long-lost peace-bringer from the Air Nomads, the Avatar, and searching for others to join their cause, she wouldn't look down at her dark skin.

It was obvious to the group that Aang had a crush on Katara, but thankfully for her, everyone also saw that her name wasn't written anywhere on his body.

Sokka was always flirting with Earth Kingdom girls. He couldn't read the name on his forearm because it was in a language he knew nothing of, so he would just take a gamble on every girl he'd meet. Thankfully, everyone in the world spoke the common trade language.

Aang and Sokka were curious to know anything about who's name she had on her skin, but she kept her under wrappings long enough to hide any part of the script.

Along the way, they discovered their group was being tracked by outcasts of the Fire Nation Royalty. An uncle and nephew pair that needed to snuff out any hints of uprisings in the colonies and other countries. The group of kids traveled by boat and animal when they could, but it was often expensive and so they would walk between towns as well, allowing the royals to catch up. The run-in with the pirates didn't help either. Now they were separated and outmatched on an island.

"Finally, a face to the name," a young man said behind her, causing Katara to spin around.

"Who are you?" She asked, even though she had a guess.

"Fire Nation Prince Zuko. Where is your friend, the Avatar?" He was an angry young man. A frown on his lips and a scar from a knife wound on his face. The white line crossed over his nose, under his left eye and along his cheek bone. As far as scars go, it was flattering to his image as a harsh leader.

"I'm not giving him away. So you can forget it!"

"As lovely as this introduction is, the girl has something of my possession." The ringleader of the pirates growled at the teens before shoving another pirate in their direction. The gangly man pulled out a bolas and started twirling it.

Katara wasn't ready to be taken out by a bunch of thugs. Thinking quickly, she ran to take cover behind the prince, hoping if the man threw the bolas it would wrap around his legs. She didn't plan for the prince to also react. He shoved her away, pushing at her thigh and causing her to fall down behind him.

"She's my bounty. Whatever she took I'll repay," Zuko said with authority, didn't matter to him that he wasn't going to pay the pirates a penny.

"Like hell am I anyone's bounty!" Katara popped into a crouch before spinning a leg around, hitting the prince at his calves and knocking him on his back. She sprinted away, losing the pirates and the prince in the trees. She took a long route but was able to find her friends within the day.

Zuko on the other hand had to deal with 5 angry pirates. He pulled out his dao swords to disarm the first two, but if his uncle hadn't shown up he would have been captured. Later that evening, he was resting in his barrack in the ship. It was only when he had slid the lock in place did he let his guard down. He removed his boots before laying back on the cot. Without think about it, he started to massage his right calf, where the name of his soulmate was tattooed.

Living under public scrutiny, the moment the lines started to appear, it was analyzed by Royal Staff. It was a shock when it wasn't a Fire Nation name. It was a disgrace when they learned that it was written in Water Tribe. It didn't help that the Royal Staff even found a person to pronounce the name. He knew his soulmate's name was Katara. He took to wearing boots that came up his leg to cover the name. Hardly anyone outside the Capital knew. Uncle mentioned the coincidence of the Avatar's friend's name being the same as his soulmate's, but dropped the topic after Zuko threw a dagger at the wall next to Iroh.

Zuko had refused to believe in the stupid tattoos that happened to appear on each other's body. But when she swept his legs out from under him, hitting at the same spot as her name, maybe it wasn't so random after all.

He'd have to get along with her for a minute to see if he could handle being around her. She was strong willed to say the least. And he'd be lying if he said he didn't want that quality in a soulmate. He knew Uncle was growing tired of Zuko's antics. But could he actually change every part of him, of his mission, and change sides? He couldn't. That didn't mean he had to stay on the path he was, he could choose to be neutral. Not capturing or helping the Avatar.

Months passed with battles fought and won. Zuko joined the peace bringing mission in the end, but it was just the beginning for his future. The team had formed a strong bond through their shared experiences and were celebrating by having a bonfire on the beach, just their small group. Some fruity drink spiked with alcohol was being passed around. As teenagers who just saved the world – they deserved it.

"Katara, come on, take the wrap off!" yelled Suki, giggling afterward. Sokka had finally found the woman who matched the name on his wrist. Theirs was a love at second glance kind of relationship.

"Everybody knows their tattooed names. Yours is the only one left," Toph agreed. The girl might have been blind, but she could tell a lie in a voice from the next room over. She was a surprisingly good diplomat as well, helping their peaceful cause.

"Only because Aang told you," muttered Zuko, trying to make a joke but missing the mark and sounding a little harsh.

Sokka elbowed Zuko, "We can't all have mysterious names like your Jin. There's a thousand Jins."

They didn't know, none of them knew. He hired a tattoo artist to fake a soulmate mark. It was just easier that way, without them knowing that Katara was his soulmate. It was harder on him though. Getting to know her better each day. Feeling closer to her. Wanting to be her soulmate – in every way.

"No, and that's final!" Katara stormed away from the fire. Maybe it was the drink, or the fact that she still refused to look at the mark on her thigh, but she couldn't handle the pestering any longer.

The group was stunned silent. Sokka got up to follow but Suki held him back.

"I'll go make sure she's fine," Zuko offered before following her footprints in the sand. He found her at the side of a creek, soaking her toes in the cool fresh water. He sat beside her, removing his boots to join. "You ok?"

Katara sighed before answering, "You know, I don't even know the name of my soulmate to tell everyone." She saw Zuko's questioning look in the corner of her eye. "It's in a different language. Plus, I try not to look at it."

Now would be a perfect time to tell her, but he couldn't form the words. Since he wore long pants, even though his boots were off, her name was still hidden. "You know...Jin isn't the name of my soulmate." Zuko was shocked to see how startled Katara was at his revelation.

"What? But we've all see her name on your arm."

"I lied. I had a tattoo artist forge it. I wanted you all to stop asking. It seemed like the right idea at the time. Now, less so." He was ashamed at getting a fake soulmate mark. It was also a little overdramatic of him to go that far in avoidance.

"So who is it really? Why would you feel so embarrassed about it?" Katara had turned her body to give him her full attention. She had to know.

His hand brushed through his hair, he hadn't thought this through. "It's not that I'm embarrassed. It'll just change things, everything. I'm nervous I guess."

Katara moved, resting her head on his shoulder. Feeling brave and thinking how her words wouldn't matter because there was no way they had each other's name on their body, she spoke up. "Sometimes I wish your name was written on my skin. I think things would be ok if we were soulmates."

Zuko was stunned silent. Was this a dream? Because he never thought it would work out. He always assumed she'd find her name and get angry at him. For hiding it or for falling in love with her, he couldn't decide. But what if his name wasn't on her skin. He didn't want to think about her being his soulmate, but not him being hers. It would be painful. Waiting, keeping this secret was hard enough.

"Let's...let's look at each other's real tattoos at the same time. Get it over with quickly. Then we can go from there," he said.

"Sure. That's fine." But Katara didn't think it was fine. She was afraid to see someone else's name. Zuko's hand rested at the bottom of his pant leg, waiting to pull up the fabric so she started unraveling the wrap around her thigh. She stopped when the last piece still covered the mark, just barely. "Ready?"

Zuko nodded. In a second both marks were visible. In another second, both teens were gasping, even though Zuko knew more it was still a shock.

"But, how? When?" Katara stuttered.

Zuko laid back on the floor completely, stretching his arms out before covering his face. A moment of being so happy ruined by two words and a memory. "Not sure if you'll remember this, truthfully, I don't want you to remember, but the first time we met. The pirates? I said you were my bounty? I pushed you away and you kicked out my legs from under me. That's the when and how."

"Huh, I remember that moment. It never occurred to me that you pushed me away at the same spot as my mark. But that's not what I'm asking. When did you think, that if there weren't these tattoos, that if you weren't predestined to be with someone, that you liked me?" It was confusing to think about. Were they destined to be together because they hid their names from the world, or were they always meant to be together?

Zuko's laugh slipped through the fingers still covering his face. "As much as I don't like how we first met, the way you handled yourself in that tense moment though, I was taken aback. Here was this scrawny girl, younger than me, and yet you escaped better than me. I would have been taken hostage or worse if Uncle hadn't shown up. But it was really after I joined the group. You're-" he cut himself off, afraid of getting too deep.

Sure they were soulmates and she already admitted to liking him, but that's the thing. Zuko was in love with Katara. He didn't want to scare her away.

"I'm what? Go on."

"You're this crazy mix of strength and kindness. You care too much sometimes, but that's a good quality, not bad. And I don't want to put you on a pedestal, but, I can't think of you in any other way." He opened a few fingers to peak through, watching what she would do. She had been watching him too, waiting for him to look at her so she could look into his eyes.

"And you're honest. Selfless when it matters. Hotheaded to be sure, but I could also say passionate." One of her hands lifted to grasp his wrist, tugging it away from his face. "Let's take this slow. See how it goes."

"What about our marks?" Zuko was already thinking of ways to get the fake Jin tattoo covered up.

Katara gave him a small smile, but it meant everything to him to see her happy. "I don't plan on covering up your name any time soon."

"Good," Zuko said with a smile that warmed Katara's heart until it felt like bursting.

#soulmate series #zutara #my writing #zutara week 2017

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silhouetteofagirl · 7 years ago

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Temerity (Varric/Hawke)

I haven't actually played Inquisition due to not having a system that can handle it. So if I've got some details wrong, it's because my friends are really trying to avoid me seeing spoilers. (It's too late though, I know I'm going to be crushed by the fact I can't romance Scout Harding.)

Read On AO3

(You can also read about my Brosca as well.)

Hawke had arrived in the late evening and, after initial introductions had been made by him, had immediately been thrown into meetings with the inquisitor and her council. It wasn't that Varric resented how desperately her influence was needed, it was more that, well, he was nervous. He had missed Hawke, she was one of his dearest friends, but Varric wasn’t sure how this reunion would actually go.

He’d tried to distract himself, but his heart wasn’t into cheating at cards nor was his head in the right place to read or write. Still, he finds himself awake far into the small hours of the morning. It’s his favorite time of night, the world is a bit quieter and people are prone to be far more honest, or dishonest, both of which made for an interesting time. Yet here he was, sitting at his desk fighting the dull buzz of anxiety that filled his brain.

“Oh, mother of a nug-humping bastard!” he curses, dropping his quill onto the desk. It’s pointless for him to try to continue, but he knows sleep is going to evade him, even if he tries.

There’s a chuckle from behind him, “Hate to disappoint, but I am not quite any of those things. Though, I think that is an insult I have not been called yet.”

Hawke is leaning against his doorframe, arms crossed loosely with an amused expression on her face. She’s still in her leather pants from the road, but her more formal chest plate has been removed.

“Hawke, when did you—” His heart simultaneously leaps in his chest and plummets to his feet. It’s a very uncomfortable experience, but here she is. Between her dark circles and the smudges of dirt on her, it’s clear she’s worn from her travels, but her grin matches his and she seems to be just as happy to see him.

“Well, your door was open and after I had my ear talked off by the inquisition I could really use a drink.” she shrugs, straightening herself.

“The tavern is probably closed,” Varric says, standing up and slinging on his jacket.

“Like that ever stopped us.” she says with her usual teasing tone.

Varric chuckles, “Figured I’d give you the opportunity to maintain a somewhat decent reputation with the inquisitor before I offered.”

“If she knows you, I think my reputation has been thoroughly sullied. No need to keep up pretenses.” She smiles down at him. They chat about nothing particularly serious. Her trip was long and uneventful and she only heard a few erroneous tales about her. Varric laughs at that and then he tells her that apparently Cassandra, “that’s the one who dragged me in for questioning”, is quite the fan of his work. That gives Hawke a good laugh and then she mentions that Fenris has officially banned reading any of Varric’s work for practice.

“The stuff about me is weird and he gets frustrated at your artistic license and your other literature is… well,” she says. They arrive at the tavern and sure enough, it is dark. He reaches into a pocket a draws out his set of picks and sets to work.

“Aw, he didn’t like Hard in Hightown?”

“Initially he liked it, you have quite the flair for description, but once he realized you had written it, he got uncomfortable.” The lock clicks and they share a conspiratorial smile.

Varric enters, looking around until he finds a lamp in the low light. “So my works are damned by association.” he strikes a match and lights the lamp so Hawke can see where she’s going. They make their way to the bar and light a few of the candles there. It gives their corner of the bar a warm glow.

It’s a scene he’s described many times before in many contexts. The night is still and the candlelight flickers in the reflection of various bottles. The two of them sit at the bar, secluded in the corner, the rest of the world seemingly forgot. Hawke’s eyes sparkle in the low light as she smiles slowly and secretively. If Varric was merely a character in a story he was writing, he wouldn’t be quite sure what to say. Sure he would write that his mouth had gone dry at the sight of her sauntering around the bar, but is she merely walking with her usual confident sway, or is it the exhaustion from traveling that is making her walk so fluidly, or is it something more? Is the correct adjective for how she reaches up to grab a bottle from the shelf so careful because she is sore from the road, or is the movement achingly slow just so he can see the full length of her neck?

But if he were a character of his own creation, he would write about the incredible heaviness in the air. Something hangs in the air between them, something electric and uncertain, and it makes each action of Hawke’s seem to last an eternity. Hawke’s muscled arms ripple as she pulls the cork from the bottle, each bend of her wrist is fluid as she pours, and each inhale of breath makes the shadows hug her form. It all makes Varric very glad he really doesn’t write romances, well, at least slow ones.

Hawke slides him his glass and re-corks the bottle. “So we should talk Varric.”

His throat goes dry and the anxiety from earlier climbs up it to crawl back into his skull. “Uh, yes.”

Hawke picks up her drink, takes a swig, and then makes her way back around the bar. Her soft footfalls are the only noise in the heavy silence that stretches between them. He takes the opportunity to take a drink himself; the whiskey does nothing to wet his throat. She stops next to where he is sitting and places her glass on the counter. The turn he makes to face her feels more like putting on a noose than facing a friend, but he turns anyway. He’s never been quite sure how she does it, but Hawke looks so confident leaning against the tall bar counter.

“Did you really mean what you said? About being in love with me?” she asks softly.

Varric swallows. He can feel the lie on the tip of his tongue, almost see the plot of that Varric and that Hawke who laugh off any discomfort and go back to what was. He can predict and plan for those two, knows the setup, the foreshadow, to a familiar story that he so desperately wants. But he’s never met someone who defied every genre like Hawke and he knows that he cannot try to change what their story will be. So he puts down his glass, swallows the lie, and says the truth unable to look away from her intense gaze. “Every word.”

“Good,” Hawke says bluntly and he finds himself being pulled forward by his lapels, her lips on his. Varric’s genres are all mixed up, when did this adventure novel bleed into a romance and when did he go from narrator to just a character along for the ride of the plot. Yet what words could Varric ever write that could describe this. The feeling of her lips on his, Hawke’s tight grip keeping him up against her, the way her hair felt between his fingers, the taste of whiskey on her tongue.

When she pulls away so they can breathe, her tight grip on his lapels does not loosen. He’s still not entirely sure what had just happened, but he cannot deny her firm hold on him is grounding.

“Hawke? We going to talk about this?” he asks between breaths of air.

She takes a step forward so she is standing between his knees. “I’m a woman of action, Varric, not words. And Maker knows I’ve talked enough tonight.” Hawke says sharply and then she is kissing him again. He’s described kisses like this before, desperate, demanding, determined, delightful, the whole range, but this kiss is so incredibly like her. How she teases his bottom lip between her teeth before returning back to kissing him. All he can do is hang on and try to give as good as he’s getting as she kisses him. But eventually, they have to breathe once more.

“Fenris?” he asks as she presses her forehead against his as they pant.

“Is happy Isabella owes him 10 sovereigns. She didn’t think you would ever tell me.” She pulls back and smiles at him.

“Figured they would gamble.” He mutters, trying to ignore the blush crossing his cheeks.

Hawke smooths down his lapels, “But Fenris and I have talked and talked and talked. And I am so done with talking.”

“Then, by all means, Hawke, we can talk later.” She grins wickedly at his words. Later, when he will try to remember what happens next as inspiration for one of his more realistic romance novels, he will be unable. He won’t know how he ended up pressed against the bar counter, legs around her waist. He won’t be able to recall who put their hands down the other’s shirt first, just that he had left angry red scratches down her back when she had kissed and bit a trail down his neck. Varric won’t be able to place when she had tugged his ponytail out, but he will remember that their drinks ended up being left on the counter. Regardless, his inability to remember will leave him frustrated and not just because of the writer’s block. But there they are, her muscles tense under his fingers as she pins him to the bar, a hand tangled in his hair.

When her breath catches when he traces the curve of her shoulder, over her collarbone, to the swell of her breast, Varric pauses. “May I?”

“Yes, just be careful. I got a bit banged up on the way here.” She says, before returning her attentions to his neck where she was working on quite the collection of marks.

“Andraste’s tits, Hawke! Why the hell are we doing this is you’re ‘a bit banged up’.” She pulls away and gives him a look.

“Because honestly Varric, I’d like to be more than a bit banged up.” She says bluntly, pressing herself more firmly against him.

He kisses her, but it's brief and she frowns when he ends it. “Any other night, Waffles, but I’m not willing to continue until I’ve seen the damage.” Hawke nods and they slowly untangle themselves as their hands still wander.

“Come on, let’s go to my room where I have some supplies.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to get me in a bed?” she teases, tugging lightly on his hair. Varric chuckles and straightens his clothes

“All in good time.” He says and pulls her down for a lazy kiss. “But the sooner we get there, the sooner I get your shirt off.”

Hawke laughs at that and makes her way to the door. “Well then, come on.” He blows out the candles and follows her out. Once again they chatter on the way to his room, but this time there are surreptitious touches and they are both more relaxed. Varric hadn’t noticed how tense he had been on the journey here, but this time he can appreciate just the act of walking with her late at night as they used to. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed having Hawke around until he’s laughing at a joke she made as they just walk. Sure, there’s a promise of something more between them, but he has to pause to catch her arm.

She looks down at him, “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

“Never, it’s just nice to see you, Hawke,” he says. Hawke smiles and inclines her head. No quick quip this time, but sometimes quick wit isn’t needed. The quiet moment passes and they continue on their way, words a bit softer. When they get to his room, he points her to the bed.

“Shirt off, Hawke,” Varric commands, going over to a chest to grab out his traveling gear.

“You could buy get a girl a drink first.” she scoffs, but she starts to peel out of her tunic.

“I just did. You decided not to drink it.” He replies evenly, pulling out his medical gear from a pouch. He turns to face her and finds her mostly tangled in her shirt. Hawke had stopped halfway through removing her tunic to make sure he could see her rolling her eyes.

“You didn’t pay for it.” she says and pulls her shirt off the rest of the way.

“No, just picked the lock for you.” He crosses over to her. There are a few nasty bruises along her torso, a cut that goes from collarbone to just over her heart, what looks like a shallow stab wound, and a few nicks that seem to be from some other event. “How did you get these?”

“I didn’t exactly want to wear my plate up a mountain.” she sniffs. It isn’t the first time he’s seen her without her shirt, nor is this the first time that he’s had to patch her up, but there’s something about the angry scratch marks that wrap around her ribs to just over her hips and the knowledge that he gave her that takes his breath away. She’s just as scarred as he is; he knows many of the stories behind the silver marks that litter her skin, but he has no intention of her gaining a new scar just because there were more enticing activities they could be doing than cleaning and binding her wounds.

Hawke must have noticed how his eyes wandered more than needed to check for her injuries because she leans back on his bed and smirks. “You’re the one who wanted to stop.”

Varric clears his throat and puts the supplies he had gathered on the bed. “Yes. What the hell am I supposed to say? The Champion of Kirkwall risked infection because I was impatient? That is hardly a good story.”

“You could say I had to fight a demon or something.” She hisses and he dabs the cut with some alcohol. “Maker knows that there are enough demons that it’s believable.”

“Boring,” he says. Varric isn’t as overly careful with his hands as he had been in the past, letting fingers brush on her warm skin. They lapse into silence as he carefully cleans the wound and rubs salve into the worst of her bruises. By the time comes to bind her cut, he has to rouse her. “Come on, Hawke. Just a little longer, then you can sleep.”

She mutters something but sits up enough that he can wrap the wound. She starts to say something and he merely murmurs, “Just fucking sleep Hawke.” Then he is taking off her boots, shifting her so he can pull blankets up and over her as she makes a noise of agreement. Then he gets ready to sleep and before he can think twice about it, lays down next to her. Hawke shifts in her sleep and throws an arm over his torso. Varric falls asleep with Hawke snoring softly in his ear and smile on his face.

#varric #hawke #dwarf appreciation week #varric/hawke #da:i #I some how didn’t realize that dwarf appreciation week was a thing #so I prepared nothing for the week even though I have a few fics that only need a bit more work #if you want more dwarf fics though check out my ao3 #my fanfic

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researching01 · 6 years ago

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24 Marvel And DC Fan Castings Better Than What We Got

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24 Marvel And DC Fan Castings Better Than What We Got

Fans have been putting together their dreaming casts for Comic Book movies for years now. Even before the internet, in the old Wizard magazine was a monthly column devoted to fan castings. Years subsequently, thanks to Photoshop, good artwork, and some wild imaginations, fans have been putting together their ideal casts for all kinds of superhero movies. If you’re savvy and imaginative enough, you can take your favorite actors and put them as your favorite superheroes. Every very often, the rest of the internet takes notice and follows suit, posting and reposting a fan’s casting creation and creating some of their own.

Unfortunately, Hollywood does tend to cast their own movies. Even though the fans might want some star, or another play a given role, Marvel and DC go with their own choices. Seldom have they been one and the same, although Robert Downey Jr. as Tony Stark is pitch-perfect, there wasn’t a lot of fan clamoring to watch RDJ in the role. As the MCU is closing out its Infinity Saga and now has Fantastic Four and X-Men back in the fold; they might need to cast and recast some classic characters. As for the DCEU, it is unfortunately in shambles, thanks to shoddy storytelling ideas, so they might need to recast some parts as well.

Maybe fans will get to see dream casts realized- here are 25 Marvel And DC Fans Casting Better Than What We Got.

24 Emma Stone As Poison Ivy

It’s been over 20 years since the comically bad Batman And Robin debuted in the theaters. The movie was so terrible that it succeeded in attaining the vivacious actress Uma Thurman completely ridiculous as Pamela Isley, aka the vivacious eco-criminal Poison Ivy.

Perhaps it’s time to try again with Ivy. Emma Stone is currently one of the young vibrant Hollywood starlets and DC is scrambling to recapture the magic of Christopher Nolan’s Batman cinemas. Maybe having Stone deliver a real-life take on what an eco-criminal looks like would be a good jumping start to the DCEU!

2 3 Donald Glover As Spider-Man

Nearly 20 years ago now, Marvel launched its Ultimate imprint. The brand was designed to tell some of the same old tired Marvel origin narratives in new and updates for the biggest characters. When Brian Bendis was done telling Peter Parker’s story, he generated a new Spider-Man, Miles Morales, in 2011. The character has garnered plenty of acclaim and fans have clamored for Donald Glover to play the kid since the beginning.

Maybe in a future MCU movie, we might ensure Miles come to the forefront, but seeing as how Glover is a little older now; and we’ve already seen him in Homecoming as Miles’ uncle, fan artwork are to be able to the only place to assure Glover as Spider-Man.

2 2 Jeffrey Dean Morgan As Batman

When Batman Vs. Superman: Sunrise Of Justice premiered, fans got a sneak peek at Thomas Wayne. Like all Bat-flicks do, fans need to be reminded of how and why Bruce becomes Batman. It might have seemed like a strange bit part for Jeffrey Dean Morgan to play, but there was supposedly more to the story.

Morgan was eventually going to play the Thomas Wayne version of Batman in the Flashpoint movie. Fans had already started dreaming up what Morgan might look like as the Batman. With Zack Snyder’s vision of the DCEU in limbo, these pics are all we’re going to get to the character.

2 1 Rosario Dawson As She-Hulk

Rosario Dawson has been a very popular actress since debuting in Kids in 1995. While she’s dabbled in a few comic book movies before and has been the connective tissue in the Marvel Netflix Universe, it’s about day she makes her own mark in MCU.

If the next Phase in the Marvel movies is all about the ladies, you have to include Jennifer Walters, the MCU’s answer to Wonder Woman- She Hulk! With Dawson playing Walters, you have an actress who could pull off both Walters sarcasm and posture as well as her compassion.

2 0 Willem Dafoe As The Joker

As the Green Goblin, Willem Dafoe more or less played a maniacal, cackling version of Norman Osborn. Osborn was supposed to be a cold and calculating tycoon. Dafoe built him sort of a lite version of DC’s Clown Prince Of Crime.

Dafoe as the Joker would make a lot of DC fans very happy. The performer was actually one of the several on a short list to play the Joker in Tim Burton’s bat-flick. Even when he’s trying to play a compassionate human, he always seems right on the edge. That kind of intensity would be tailor-made for the Joker.

1 9 Neil Patrick Harris As The Riddler

Christopher Nolan loves mind-bending films that, by the end of them, stimulate you question everything you’ve ever known about the previous two hours you just watched. For example, why does everyone think Dom’s totem is a top in Inception. Watch it again, it’s his wedding ring. The top was his wife’s.

But that love of messing with our minds actually could have extended to his phenomenal Dark Knight Trilogy had he cast Neil Patrick Harris and brought the Riddler into this series of cinemas. NPH could have not only erased the bad savor of Jim Carrey’s version but possibly created a menacing version of the character not ensure since The Animated Series.

1 8 Joseph Gordon-Levitt As Ant-Man

While Joseph Gordon-Levitt did say that Marvel eyeing him for the role of Scott Lang in Ant-Man as “nothing but lies, ” the casting rumor did create a slight fervor amongst fans of Levitt, who at that time had come off the heels of The Dark Knight Rises and Sin City: A Dame To[ End] For.

While Paul Rudd is charming and funny in everything that he does, his version of Scott Lang absence a little bit of gravitas that is needed for the occasional dramatic scenes in both Ant-Man and Ant-Man And The Wasp that Levitt would be able to crush.

1 7 Christina Ricci As Harley Quinn

Lindsay Graham and Mary Vernieu, the casting directors of Suicide Squad are clearly blind as bats. Sure, Margot Robbie was decent as Harley Quinn, but Christina Ricci would have been able to take the iconic role to the iconic heights that it deserved.

The woman IS Harley! She’s usually depicted as a goth girl or a gremlin, she generally plays crazy and/ or deranged characters, she’s five-foot-nothing and can still intimidate most people she comes into contact with. DC and Warner Brother, can we make this happen?

1 6 Vin Diesel As Black Bolt

Throughout the ten years of Marvel movies that we have gotten, there have been very rare misses. But a complete and total black mark on the entire MCU would be the decision to even attempt to bringing The Inhumans was clearly a mistake. The feature film never got off the ground, so ABC had it as a mini-series that looked like a lot of people in cosplay.

Even the original guy who Marvel was supposedly trying to casting as Black Bolt knew that it wasn’t running work. Vin Diesel might play meathead Dom, but he’s no buffoon in real life. While he did teasing that he’d be playing the enigmatic ruler of the Inhumans, he backed out before any career injury could be done.

1 5 Idris Elba As Green Lantern

Ryan Reynolds is astounding as Deadpool, the role he was born to play. But before he could play the Merc’ With A Mouth, he tried his hand at playing the Green Lantern in the 2011 movie. This movie, directed by Bond veteran, Martin Campbell, was supposed to be the launch of the DCEU. But thanks to a whole heap of behind the scenes headaches and sub-par performances and impacts, there is virtually no love for Green Lantern.

Which is why Green Lantern fans ought to have jonesing for their fix ever since. Idris Elba as the stoic John Stewart would be the right move to make as far as casting is concerned to erase the bad

memories that Reynolds himself tried to eliminate at the end of Deadpool 2.

1 4 John Krasinski As Mr. Fantastic

With a less-than-fantastic four cinemas in the franchise, fans have long-suffered without an engaging movie featuring Marvel’s first household. Now that Disney has bought 21 st Century Fox and the rights have reverted to Disney, we’re all hoping that The Fantastic Four can be made correctly.

Maybe they let John Krasinski do what he did for A Quiet Place, which was a pretty big hit in 2018. He wrote, directed, and starred in the horror thriller, and all three of those credits, plus the cinema, were well received.

1 3 Emily Blunt As Invisible Woman

Thanks to her responsibilities filing for Gulliver’s Travels, Emily Blunt has to pass on playing Natasha Romanov in Iron Man 2, the characters’ first MCU appearance. Since then, the actress has built up an impressive resume, including the action movie, Edge Of Tomorrow.

If her hubby John Krasinski is going to be tapped to play Reed Richards, then let’s cast Blunt as Sue. They already played a husband and wife trying to survive in A Quiet Place. They can easily pull off scientists who wound up with superpowers.

1 2 Natalia Dyer As Rogue

It’s the fancasting that plenty of fans didn’t know they wanted! But digital artist BossLogic put together some pretty cool renditions of Stranger Things performers as members of the X-Men. Sadie Sink as Emma Frost and Winona Ryder as Mystique to name a few.

But his version of Natalia Dyer as Rogue takes the cake and makes a sense of nostalgia for the character that near-fatally absorbed Captain Marvel and less for the Anna Paquin version that was more Jubilee and less Southern Belle powerhouse.

1 1 Tom Hardy As Wolverine

The brash character actor is playing Venom, it’s hour we get over the notion that Tom Hardy will one day take over for Hugh Jackman as the raging Canucklehead, Wolverine. But there was a day where we could all dreaming, right?

Who cares if he played Bane and was tapped to be part of Suicide Squad. There are several artist supplies online of Hardy not just as Wolverine, but as Logan in full comic book costume. Since he’s Venom now, it will be a longshot when it is necessary to recasting the role, but if anyone could pull off both, it’s Hardy.

1 0 Oprah Winfrey As Amanda Waller

If you’re not familiar with Amanda Waller, or the Wall as she’s sometimes referred to- she’s basically the Nick Fury of the DCU. She’s actually way more of a horrible, secret carrying government agent. She started Task force X( aka Suicide Squad ). She also had no issues basically doing whatever she needed to do and if she had to call upon someone like Batman to clean up her messes, she would.

There aren’t much more powerful political people in Hollywood than Oprah Winfrey herself. The casting of Winfrey as Waller is route more inspired than Viola Davis( Suicide Squad ), Cynthia Addai-Robinson( Arrowverse ), and Angela Bassett( Green Lantern ).

9 David Hasselhoff As Nick Fury

What if, just what if( like the name of the old Marvel series ), we were living in a world where the original Nick Fury, who debuted years before anyone knew who David Hasselhoff was but appears eerily similar to the actor, stimulated his MCU debut and no one caught it ?!

Besides starring in a Nick Fury Fox TV Movie in the 1990 s, Hasselhoff had a silly cameo in Guardians Vol. 2. Maybe we’ll find out that once the Avengers undo the snap that Hasselhoff will be playing the new/ old Nick Fury.

8 Matt Bomer As Superman

To cast Superman is rough. You have find a dark-haired, square-jawed, built like a brick, undeniably attractive “all that is man’s man.” At the same period, a total Boy scout that everyone should aspire to be. THAT was Christopher Reeve. No disrespect to Henry Cavill and Brandon Routh, as good as the issue is, they’re simply not.

Perhaps Matt Bomer is. For some reason, he has been the internet’s choice Man Of Steel for years now. He’s voiced Clark in several DC animated movies. It’s time to give him a chance in the suit for real.

7 Finn Wolfhard As Billy Batson

By the time you’re reading this, Shazam will be in theaters. The unique take over the hero has already garnered positive reviews for its starring, Zachary Levi. The kid who turns into Shazam, Billy Batson is being played by relative unknown, Asher Angel.

The young chap of the moment though is Finn Wolfhard Of Stranger Things fame. He’s been a part of It and the new Carmen Sandiego show. He might have a lot on his plate being one of the stars of the hottest Netflix show. But casting him in any movie could add to the overall box office receipts.

6 Jon Hamm As Batman

Unless he’s choosing not to be a bigger starring, it’s a travesty that Hollywood hasn’t yet made a route bigger starring out of Jon Hamm than he already is. The versatile performer expended seven years wowing fans with a charismatic portrayal of the Don Draper on the hitting present, Mad Men.

The steely-eyed demeanor that Hamm exhibited, while occasionally letting loose and having fun all the while wearing a dapper suit. That behavior simulateds Bruce Wayne’s pretty much to the letter. Hamm’s got the appear and the act down, it’s time to see how he’d look in another suit.

5 Keanu Reeves As Wolverine

There is no denying that Hugh Jackman has been a fantastic face of the X-Men franchise, bringing Logan to life. Thanks to him, the world’s most popular mutant is thoroughly entrenched in pop culture. It will be a chore to bring him into the MCU.

Unless your name is Keanu Reeves. Some detractors will always be wary of devoting this guy his just due( thank you Bill And Ted ). But he’s been a top action starring for 25 years now and even at over 50 years old still looks in his mid-thirties. Logan is good claws if the Keanu were to be tapped for the role.

4 Mark Hamill As The Joker

The man has been widely accepted by fans as the quintessential Joker for years. Not Romero or Nicholson, and Ledger comes in a very close second. Luke Skywalker himself, Mark Hamill has been voicing the Joker since the early nineties.

Give the guy a costume and set him on camera! No matter the medium or the rating, he’s crushed it as the Joker. It’s about time to put the monarch of the Clown Prince Of Crime on his throne.

3 Kristen Bell As Harley Quinn

Christina Ricci might seem perfect to play Harley Quinn, but there is also a slew of fan pics of Kristen Bell as the same insane lady. But what if there were two Harleys? In Batman: White Knight, that’s exactly the instance. One Harley that wanted to reform the Joker, but when the Joker tossed her aside, Marian Drews became his new Harley.

The story is totally bananas( as most Joker narratives are ), but the thought of two Harley Quinns, one completely crazy but innocent and one that is completely crazy and wants the Joker to be just as twisted “wouldve been” pretty cool to see both Ricci and Bell duke it out on screen.

2 Patrick Stewart As Mr. Freeze

The Wizard Casting Call for X-Men got it right when they cast Patrick Stewart as Professor X. There was actually no other choice. The guy would have been able to pull off a menacing Mr. Freeze as well, and one that might have saved the proceedings of Batman And Robin.

There is no way he would’ve been worse than the ultra-quippy, ultra-hammy “Ahhnaald.” He was actually initially considered, but Joel Schumacher decided that Victor Fries must be chiseled out of a glacier.

1 Ronda Rousey As Captain Marvel

Ronda Rousey has been one of the pillars of the Women’s Revolution that has taken place in athletics. Her stint in UFC will be heralded and unmatched for years. Now, as the WWE Raw Women’s Champion, she is gearing up to be part of the first ever women’s main event at WrestleMania.

If she had her style, she might also be revolutionizing the MCU as Captain Marvel. She looks the part and already knew how to fight. She might have saved Kevin Feige a couple of bucks having to train Brie Larsen.