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demospectator · 2 years

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Vineyard workers. Watercolor by Jake Lee (from the collection of the Chinese Historical Society of America).

Chinese Pioneers in California’s Wine Industry

The work by the Chinese is excavating the wine caves for what would become the Buena Vista winery has been well known and researched by the original deans of Chinese American historiography, the late Phil Choy and Him Mark Lai. The story of Chinese participation in building this industry of Sonoma County and California continues to attract the interest of local historians.

In 2018, I toured the BV winery again last year with the executive director of the Chinese Historical Society of America. With a couple exceptions, most of the guides were aware of the provenance of BV’s wine caves. The then-new ownership appears more committed to recounting the substantial contributions made by Chinese labor and engineering staff into the larger history of this landmark winery. Photos of Chinese men working in the fields and bottling wine are displayed in Buena Vista’s tasting room.

“We feel it’s more important than ever to talk about the reason we exist and the people who contributed to it − Chinese, Hungarian, French,” says Jean-Charles Boisset, whose family company, Boisset Collection, a US subsidiary of Boisset, La Famille des Grands Vins (France’s third largest wine holding company and Burgundy’s largest producer), bought BV in 2011.

An 2017 article by NPR food reporter, Grace Hwang Lynch, summarized the labor and the ultimate fate of the Chinese workers whose involvement in virtually all phases of the production literally built a multi-billion dollar industry for Northern California and the US. “In 1857,” Hwang wrote, “a wealthy Hungarian named Agoston Haraszthy purchased a ranch in Sonoma Valley and named it Buena Vista, with the vision of introducing winemaking techniques from his homeland. . . . Haraszthy turned to Ho Po, a Chinese labor contractor from San Francisco, who sent 150 of his countrymen to build Buena Vista, Sonoma's oldest commercial winery.“

Ho Po, a Chinese labor contractor from San Francisco, sent 150 of his countrymen to build Buena Vista. Photographer unknown (courtesy of Buena Vista winery).

The Chinese workers dug a cave network for the BV winery which is actually more extensive than what a causal tour will disclose. However, a couple of the 19th century excavations have collapsed due to past seismic activity.

Chinese labor also dug the caves for other wineries. In 1870, Jacob Schram found new employment for the Chinese laborers who had recently finished constructing tunnels and grades over the Sierra Nevada Mountains for the Union Pacific Transcontinental Railroad.Schram hired them to dig a network of caves through the soft Sonoma Volcanics Formation rock underlying his vineyard. To its credit, the Schramsberg website also acknowledges the Chinese laborers who dug Napa’s first hillside caves for wine-aging and storage.

Chinese and other men bottle sparkling and other wine products at the Buena Vista winery, c. 1880. Photograph by Eadweard Muybridge(from the collection of the Buena Vista winery).

Chinese workers transport wine in front of the main building (which still stands today) at Buena Vista, the oldest winery in California's Sonoma County. Photographer unknown (from the collection of the Buena Vista winery)

In the late 1870′s Hwang recounts, the locals began to drive out the Chinese from Sonoma County’s vineyards through economic boycott or worse.

“1106 -- Buena Vista Vineyard, Sonoma -- Bottling Wine,” no date. Photographer unknown (from the collection of Buena Vista Winery and George Webber).

The experience of the Sonoma County Chinese demonstrates that the aggregate, private violence continued even after the passage of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882. Local law enforcement either turned a blind eye or aided such violence, and the decades that straddled 1882 produced an internal migration of nonwhite Americans in the western US that had not been seen since the Trail of Tears (which was essentially done at gunpoint in a military operation), and would not be seen again until the Great Migration of African-Americans from the rural South between 1916 and 1970.

The Chinese would remain in vintners’ workforces into the next century, local conditions permitting. However, the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 would continue to exact a toll on the population of laborers, and growers would gravitate toward other groups of agricultural workers.

“Chinese farm workers pruning a vineyard,” c. 1900. Photographer unknown (from the Title Insurance and Trust Collection of the California Historical Society). CHS wrote about this photo in its Spring 1978 quarterly as follows: “Under the watchful eyes of Yankee overseers, Chinese laborers built California’s railroad, reclaimed the Delta, and nursed the state’s infant agriculture, including its vineyards. .

The Chinese pioneers left as their legacy the foundation of a multi-billion dollar industry upon which the economy of California prospers in the 21st century. Even today, researchers and writers continue to coax from the historical record more stories of a vibrant presence in the state’s earliest vineyards.

“The Vintage In California -- At Work At the Wine Presses.” Drawing by Paul Frenzeny (from the Robert B. Honeyman, Jr. Collection of Early Californian and Western American Pictorial Material at the Bancroft Library)

Note about the artist (by Theresa Salazar of the Bancroft Library):

French artist Paul Frenzeny came to North America in the 1860s to serve under Marshal Achille Bazaine, commander of the French expeditionary corps in Mexico, sent to support Napoleon Ill's abortive effort to establish an empire there under Archduke Maximilian of Austria. Sometime before 1868 Frenzeny went to New York City, for between that year and 1873 Harpers Weekly published some twenty of his sketches, showing New York views as well as events in the Mexican war and the Pennsylvania coal fields (Samuels, p. 178).

Harpers commissioned Frenzeny and Jules Tavernier, another Frenchman, to travel across the country and record the landscape in remote, unexplored areas, telling its readers that "these gentle-men will not restrict themselves to the ordinary routes of travel. They will make long excursions on horseback into regions where railroads have not penetrated, where even the hardy squatter, the pioneer of civilization, has not yet erected his rude log-cabin" (Harpers Weekly, November 8, 1873, p. 994). The men left New York in the fall of 1873 and reached San Francisco the following summer, riding horseback from Denver.

Frenzeny apparently stayed on in San Francisco for at least six years and became known for his illustrations and sketches of Chinatown (Hughes, p. 400). He participated in the artistic life of the city and became a member of the new Bohemian Club. His partnership with Tavernier may have ended shortly after the men arrived in San Francisco, for Harper's illustrations of California and Nevada subjects between 1876 and 1878 and in the early eighties were signed by Frenzeny alone. In 1879 Harper's published Central American drawings executed on his journey back to New York. Between 1882 and 1887 Frenzeny's work appeared in Leslie's Weekly. Frenzeny later provided 150 illustrations for Harrington O'Reilly's Fifty Years on the Trail, Frenzeny’s last known publication (1889). The last decade or so of his life is undocumented, but he is believed to have died in London in 1902 (Karolik, 1:163-164; and Hughes, p. 192).

#Chinese winery workers #Chinese labor at Buena Vista winery #Chinese workers for Schram #Chinese in Sonoma County #wine cave excavation #Eadweard Muybridge #Paul Frenzeny

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nelsonenginepro · 1 month

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The Ultimate Guide to Planning a Stag Do in Bucharest

Planning a stag do in Bucharest is an adventure of its own. This Eastern European gem offers a thrilling mix of vibrant nightlife, historical landmarks, and adrenaline-pumping activities, making it a top destination for an unforgettable stag party. Whether you’re looking for wild nights out or something more laid-back, Bucharest has it all. This guide will walk you through the essential steps to plan the perfect bachelor party in Bucharest.

1. Organize Centrally-Located Accommodation

Your first step in planning a stag do in Bucharest is to secure accommodation in the city center. Opt for areas like Calea Victoriei, Piața Unirii, or Piața Universității. Staying in these prime locations will put you within walking distance of the city's hottest bars, clubs, and restaurants, making it easy to dive into the action as soon as you arrive.

2. Best Times to Visit Bucharest

Timing is crucial when planning your trip. The best times to visit Bucharest are from March to June and September to December. During these months, the weather is pleasant, and the city is bustling with activity. However, it's wise to avoid the summer months (July and August) when the city tends to be quieter as locals leave for holidays. To get the most out of your trip, plan for at least a three-day weekend.

3. Hire a Specialised Party Planner

To make your stag do stress-free and fun, consider hiring a specialised party planner like Bucharest 2Night. They know the city inside out and can arrange everything from nightlife experiences to transportation, saving you time and ensuring that everything goes smoothly.

4. Don’t Miss a Weekend Bar Crawl

A bar crawl is a must for any stag in Bucharest. The city is famous for its eclectic nightlife, offering everything from cozy pubs to high-energy nightclubs. A guided bar crawl will help you discover the best spots, ensuring that your group hits the most happening places in town.

5. Opt for Private Transportation

Navigating Bucharest with a large group can be challenging, so it's best to opt for private transportation for all your activities and airport-hotel transfers. This will give you peace of mind and allow your group to travel together comfortably, without the hassle of public transport.

6. Plan a Fancy Night Out

For a touch of luxury, plan a fancy night out at one of Bucharest's top restaurants followed by a visit to an exclusive nightclub. Consider booking a VIP BUCHAREST CLUBBING, where you can enjoy bottle service, private tables, and party like a rock star.

7. Mix Adrenaline Activities with Relaxation

A well-rounded stag does include a mix of high-energy activities and relaxation. Consider adding some adrenaline-pumping activities like paintball, go-karting, or a shooting range to your itinerary. Balance these with more relaxing options like a day at Therme Bucharest, the largest spa in Europe, a leisurely city tour, or catching a football game. This way, everyone in the group can enjoy something that suits their vibe.

8. Explore the City by Foot

Bucharest is a city rich in history and architecture, best explored on foot. Take some time to wander through the streets and soak in landmarks like the Palace of the Parliament, Old Town, and Herastrau Park. You’ll be amazed by the blend of modernity and tradition that defines this city.

9. Don’t Overload Your Schedule

When planning your activities, remember that less is more. Avoid overloading your schedule with too many events. Instead, focus on quality experiences and ensure you have plenty of downtime. A good rule of thumb is to plan two daytime activities and one nighttime activity per day. This relaxed pace will keep everyone happy and avoid unnecessary stress.

Conclusion

Bucharest is an ideal destination for a stag do, offering everything from wild nights out to cultural and relaxing activities. By following this guide, you can plan a balanced and memorable trip that everyone in your group will enjoy. Remember to stay flexible, take time to enjoy the city, and most importantly, have a blast!

FAQs

1. What is the average cost of a stag do in Bucharest?The cost can vary, but Bucharest is known for being budget-friendly compared to other European cities, offering great value for money.

2. Is it necessary to hire a party planner for a stag do in Bucharest?While not necessary, hiring a party planner like Bucharest 2Night can take a lot of stress out of the planning process, especially if you want a seamless experience.

3. What should we include in our Bucharest stag do itinerary?A mix of bar crawls, adrenaline activities, and relaxation, with plenty of time to explore the city, makes for a well-rounded itinerary.

4. Is Bucharest safe for a stag do?Yes, Bucharest is generally safe for tourists, but it's always a good idea to stay aware of your surroundings, especially at night.

5. How can we get around the city easily?Private transportation is the most convenient option, but Bucharest also has a reliable public transport system, including buses, trams, and the metro.

#bachelor party in Bucharest #Stag do in Bucharest

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adittyasen · 3 months

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Explore the Marvels of Mumbai: City Sightseeing Tours

Highlights of Mumbai City Sightseeing Tours

Gateway of India:

Begin your tour at the iconic Gateway of India, a majestic monument that stands as a symbol of Mumbai’s colonial past. Marvel at its grandeur and soak in the bustling atmosphere of the waterfront promenade.

Elephanta Caves:

Embark on a ferry ride to the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Elephanta Caves, located on Elephanta Island in Mumbai Harbor. Explore the ancient rock-cut caves adorned with intricate sculptures and marvel at the craftsmanship of bygone eras.

Marine Drive:

Take a leisurely drive along Marine Drive, also known as the Queen’s Necklace, and admire the sweeping arc of the promenade lined with glittering city lights. Experience the mesmerizing sunset views over the Arabian Sea that make this waterfront stretch truly magical.

Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj Terminus (CST):

Formerly known as Victoria Terminus, CST is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a masterpiece of Victorian Gothic architecture. Admire its intricate facades, towering domes, and exquisite detailing that reflect Mumbai’s rich architectural heritage.

Dhobi Ghat:

Witness the bustling activity at Dhobi Ghat, the world’s largest outdoor laundry where thousands of dhobis (washermen) tirelessly wash and dry clothes in the traditional manner. Gain insight into this unique aspect of Mumbai’s daily life.

Crawford Market:

Immerse yourself in the vibrant atmosphere of Crawford Market, a bustling bazaar renowned for its eclectic array of goods, from fresh produce to handicrafts. Experience the sensory overload as you navigate through its bustling lanes filled with colorful stalls and aromatic spices.

Why Choose Mumbai City Sightseeing Tours with Magical Mumbai Tours?

Expert Guides:

Enjoy the services of knowledgeable local guides who provide fascinating insights into Mumbai’s history, culture, and architecture. Their expertise ensures a memorable and informative tour experience.

Comfortable Transportation:

Travel in comfort and style with well-maintained vehicles equipped with modern amenities. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the sights as you explore the city’s diverse neighborhoods and landmarks.

Tailored Itineraries:

Choose from a variety of tour packages tailored to suit your interests, time constraints, and budget. Whether you prefer a half-day excursion or a full-day adventure, there’s a tour package for everyone.

Safety and Convenience:

Rest assured of safety and convenience throughout your tour, with professional drivers and hassle-free logistics provided by Magical Mumbai Tours. Focus on enjoying the sights while they take care of the rest.

Planning Your Mumbai City Sightseeing Tour

Book in Advance: Secure your spot on the tour by booking in advance, especially during peak travel seasons.

Pack Essentials: Bring along essentials such as sunscreen, sunglasses, comfortable footwear, and a camera to capture memories.

Stay Hydrated: Keep hydrated throughout the tour by carrying water bottles and staying refreshed.

Respect Local Customs: Be respectful of local customs and traditions when visiting religious sites or interacting with locals.

Conclusion

Embark on a journey of discovery and exploration with Mumbai Private Tour guide by Magical Mumbai Tours. Whether you’re a history enthusiast, a culture buff, or simply a curious traveler, these tours offer an immersive experience that showcases the best of Mumbai’s past, present, and future. Prepare to be enchanted by the city’s vibrant energy, architectural marvels, and rich cultural tapestry as you embark on a memorable adventure through the streets of Mumbai.

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magicalmumbai-0 · 4 months

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The Ultimate Guide to Exploring Mumbai: Tips for a Memorable Private Tour

Mumbai, the pulsating heart of India, is a city of dreams, contrasts, and ceaseless energy. Known for its iconic skyline, bustling bazaars, and a rich tapestry of history and culture, Mumbai offers an experience unlike any other. For those looking to dive deep into the essence of this vibrant city, a private tour is your gateway to an intimate exploration. Here’s your ultimate guide to making the most of your Mumbai private tour.

Why Choose a Private Tour?

A private tour of Mumbai allows you to explore the city at your own pace and according to your own interests. Whether you’re a history buff, a foodie, or a photography enthusiast, private tours can be customized to cater to your preferences, giving you a more personal and fulfilling experience. Moreover, with a local guide, you gain insights and access to spots that might otherwise be overlooked.

Planning Your Tour: What to Know Before You Go

Best Time to Visit: Mumbai is best visited between November and February when the weather is cooler and more pleasant. The monsoon season from June to September is less ideal due to heavy rains that could affect your tour schedules.

Dress Appropriately: Given Mumbai’s humid climate, it’s advisable to wear light, breathable clothing. Respect local culture, especially when visiting religious sites, by dressing modestly.

Stay Hydrated: Always carry a bottle of water with you to stay hydrated, especially if you’re touring around during the day.

Must-Visit Attractions

The Gateway of India: No trip to Mumbai is complete without a visit to this historic arch that stands as a testament to India’s colonial past.

Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus: A UNESCO World Heritage Site, this historic railway station is a marvel of Victorian Gothic architecture.

Elephanta Caves: Located just off the coast, these rock-cut caves dating back to the 5th century offer a peaceful retreat from the city’s hustle.

Local Bazaars: From the bustling lanes of Crawford Market to the vibrant stalls of Colaba Causeway, Mumbai’s markets are perfect for those looking to dive into the local shopping scene.

Personalizing Your Experience

Culinary Adventures: Ask your guide to include local eating spots in your itinerary. Mumbai’s street food, including delicacies like vada pav and pav bhaji, offers flavors that capture the city’s spirit.

Photography Walks: For photography enthusiasts, early morning walks through areas like Bandra or along Marine Drive offer beautiful light and lively street scenes.

Cultural Deep Dive: Include visits to local artisans or a Bollywood studio tour to see Mumbai’s cultural diversity up close.

Navigating the City

While Mumbai’s charm is undeniable, it's also known for its daunting traffic. Opting for a private tour means you can avoid the stress of navigating public transport. Moreover, your guide can help you understand local etiquettes and customs, ensuring a smoother experience.

Safety Tips

While Mumbai is generally safe for tourists, standard precautions should be observed. Keep your valuables secure, be cautious of your surroundings, and always follow your guide’s advice, especially in crowded areas.

Conclusion

A private tour in Mumbai is more than just a sightseeing trip; it’s a deep dive into the heart of India’s most dynamic city. With the right planning and a good guide, you can uncover the stories and experiences that make Mumbai truly magical. Remember, every alley and street corner of Mumbai has a story to tell, and with these tips, you’re all set to discover them.

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wpbcarandlimo · 2 years

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petnews2day · 2 years

Text

Bottled Water Market to See Promising Growth of USD 476.45 Billion with Registering a Healthy CAGR of 6.7% by 2029, Growth Statistics, Size, Share, Trends and Value Forecast

New Post has been published on https://petnews2day.com/pet-industry-news/pet-financial-news/bottled-water-market-to-see-promising-growth-of-usd-476-45-billion-with-registering-a-healthy-cagr-of-6-7-by-2029-growth-statistics-size-share-trends-and-value-forecast/

Bottled Water Market to See Promising Growth of USD 476.45 Billion with Registering a Healthy CAGR of 6.7% by 2029, Growth Statistics, Size, Share, Trends and Value Forecast

SYDNEY, Nov. 8, 2022 /PRNewswire/ — Recent study report released by Data Bridge Market research with titled “Bottled Water Market” guarantees you will remain better informed than your competition. In order for the Bottled Water industry to succeed in today’s quickly evolving market, the Bottled market research provides the most applicable market and business solutions. This Bottled market study is a comprehensive analysis of the present state of the market and projected growth rates, taking into account the effects of a wide range of market characteristics. The definition of a market reveals the potential for a given product in light of the market’s main drivers and restraints. The Bottled sector can learn from its competitors’ use of new product introductions, market expansions, agreements, joint ventures, partnerships, and acquisitions to improve its own approaches to product and service promotion and sales.

Data Bridge Market Research Logo

Data Bridge Market Research analyses that the bottled water market was valued at USD 283.6 billion in 2021 and is expected to reach the value of USD 476.45 billion by 2029, at a CAGR of 6.7% during the forecast period of 2022-2029.

Download Sample Copy of Bottled Water Market Report @ https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/request-a-sample/?dbmr=global-bottled-water-market

Bottled water is intended for human consumption and is obtained from a variety of sources, including wells, protected springs, or a public water supply. When compared to regular water, it has a high concentration of dissolved minerals or total dissolved solids (TDS). Before packaging, the bottles are typically treated with ultraviolet (UV) irradiation, which inhibits the growth of pathogenic organisms during storage or transportation. Following disinfection, these bottles are filled with water, labelled, and sold in a variety of sizes ranging from single-serve to large carboys for water coolers.

The rise in healthcare awareness about waterborne diseases such as malaria, typhoid, diarrhea, food poisoning, and others is driving the market. Furthermore, bottled water is more portable and convenient, supporting market growth.

Story continues

Opportunities for Players:

The rising disposable income of people as a result of industrialization and economic growth is a major driver of the global market for bottled water. Rapid urbanisation also contributes to increased demand, as it has resulted in increased consumption of alcohol, to which bottled water is frequently added. Aside from that, the growing popularity of social media and the internet has also had a positive impact on the market.

Some of the major players operating in the Bottled Water market are:

PepsiCo (US)

Nestlé, A.G. (Switzerland)

The Coca-Cola Company. (US)

CG Roxane, LLC (US)

Tempo Beverage Ltd (Israel)

Keurig Dr Pepper Inc. (US)

Dr Pepper/Seven Up, Inc (US)

Ferrarelle (Italy)

SANPELLEGRINO (Italy)

Reignwood Investments UK Ltd (UK)

LaCroix Beverages, Inc. (US)

GEROLSTEINER BRUNNEN GMBH & CO. KG (Germany)

Mountain Valley Spring Water (US)

Get Full Research Report @ https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/checkout/buy/enterprise/global-bottled-water-market

Recent Development

Nestle SA decided in April 2021 to sell its bottled water business in the United States and Canada to private equity firm One Rock Capital Partners for USD 4.3 billion, renaming the company BlueTriton Brands.

Primo Water Corporation announced the acquisition of Mountain Valley Water Company of Los Angeles in October 2020, increasing the total number of customers to over 8,000.

Agthia Group PJSC announced the launch of Al Ain Plant Bottle, the region’s first plant-based water bottle, in February 2020. Agthia and Veolia, a global leader in optimised resource management, also signed an agreement to launch a PET water bottle collection initiative in the United Arab Emirates.

The investment made in the study would provide you access to information such as:

Global Bottled Water Market [Global – Broken-down into regions]

Regional level split [North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, South America, Middle East & Africa]

Country wise Market Size Split [of important countries with major market share]

Market Share and Revenue/Sales by leading players

Market Trends – Emerging Technologies/products/start-ups, PESTEL Analysis, SWOT Analysis, Porter’s Five Forces, etc.

Market Size

Market Size by application/industry verticals

Market Projections/Forecast

Market Drivers: Bottled Water Market

Due to the presence of quinine, a medication used to treat malaria and babesiosis, bottled water is also widely consumed as a healthy drink around the world. This bottled water contains 83 milligrams of quinine per litre and has excellent medicinal properties. Market manufacturers are now offering a diverse range of products with added sugars and flavors. These therapeutic benefits of bottled water are also propelling the product’s demand on a global scale.

Another factor driving this growth is the use of bottled water in margaritas as a drink enhancer and for soothing dehydration due to its strong taste. Furthermore, children, teenagers, and young adults are drawn to the sparkling effect water under ultraviolet lights. Bottled water appears fluorescent when exposed to direct sunlight because quinine is reactive to UV radiation as a result of its quinine content. Due to its use in cocktail preparations and its medicinal properties, the market is expected to grow steadily over the forecast period. Bottled water manufacturers are expected to develop additional product flavourings over the forecast timeframe.

Core Objective of Bottled Water Market:

Every firm in the Bottled Water market has objectives but this market research report focus on the crucial objectives, so you can analysis about competition, future market, new products, and informative data that can raise your sales volume exponentially.

Size of the Bottled Water market and growth rate factors.

Important changes in the future Bottled Water Market.

Top worldwide competitors of the Market.

Scope and product outlook of Bottled Water Market.

Developing regions with potential growth in the future.

Tough Challenges and risk faced in Market.

Global Bottled Water top manufacturers profile and sales statistics.

To Gain More Insights about this Research, Visit @ https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/reports/global-bottled-water-market

Key Segmentation: Bottled Water Market

By Type

By Category

By Distribution channel

Store based

Non store based

Regional Analysis/Insights: Bottled Water Market

The countries covered in the bottled water market report are U.S., Canada, Mexico, Germany, U.K., Italy, France, Spain, Russia, Turkey, Switzerland, Belgium, Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, Poland, Turkey, rest of Europe, Japan, China, South Korea, India, Australia, Singapore, Japan, Thailand, Indonesia, New Zealand, Vietnam, Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, Philippines, rest of Asia-Pacific, South Africa, Kuwait, Qatar, Oman, Saudi Arabia, U.A.E., and rest of the Middle East and Africa, Brazil, Argentina & rest of South America.

Asia-Pacific dominates the bottled water market because consumer preference for healthier drinks over sugary drinks are increasing. North America is the second largest region in terms of bottled water market growth, owing to rising demand for clean water, rising consciousness about a healthier lifestyle, rising incidences of diseases caused by contaminated water consumption, and rising consumer awareness about the health benefits of preferring bottled water in this region. Europe is the third largest region in terms of bottled water market growth, owing to an increasing preference for healthier alternatives to sugar-based beverages in this region.

Table of Contents:

Introduction

Market Segmentation

Executive Summary

Premium Insights

Global Bottled Water Market: Regulations

Market Overview

Global Bottled Water Market, By Type

Global Bottled Water Market, By Category

Global Bottled Water Market, By Distribution Channel

Global Bottled Water Market, By Region

Global Bottled Water Market: Company Landscape

SWOT Analyses

Company Profile

Questionnaires

Related Reports

To Check the Complete Table of contents, click here @ https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/toc/?dbmr=global-bottled-water-market

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U.S. Hot Fill Bottled Sauces Market, By Manufacturing (In-House Manufacturing and Contract Manufacturing), Product (Mustard Sauce, Soy Sauce, Barbecue Sauce, Ketchup, Chili Sauce and Others), Material Type (Polyethylene Terephthalate (PET), Polypropylene (PP), Glass and Others), Machine Type (Automatic and Manual), Capacity (Up To 500 ml, 501 – 750 ml, 751 – 1,000 ml, Above 1,000 ml), Distribution Channel (Online and Offline) https://www.databridgemarketresearch.com/reports/us-hot-fill-bottled-sauces-market

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minimel-fics · 3 years

Text

Broken Bells

Bishop Losa X OC Chapter 14: Puppy Dog Eyes

Tumblr really hates my Canadian spelling 👀

Masterlist

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Annabelle pulled onto the gravel lot at nearly a snail's pace in an effort to stop rocks from flying up and chipping her paint further than it was, she was unable to hold back her winces as her attempt proved to be futile. She spotted Chucky as he stepped out of the small office space he found himself manning on most days, the man sent her a smile and an enthusiastic wave with his prosthetic fingers. She parked the car off to the side of the office, ensuring that she was not blocking the poor excuse of a roadway or in anyone's way before she stepped her sneaker clad feet out of the car. Reaching in through the open window she collected the black sunglasses that Angel had once leant her from their spot as they hung off the rearview mirror before slipping them over her eyes to block out the bright desert sun. Her dark eyes skimmed the lot as she approached Chucky, her sight being drawn to the empty area where the Mayans usually parked their motorcycles in a rather neat looking line, they must have gotten caught up longer than expected in the business they had to deal with that morning.

“How are you doing, Chucky? Like your new job?”

“I am quite content, Ms. Annabelle.” Chucky smiled before he nodded toward the clubhouse, “Bishop has not made it back yet, you can await him inside.”

“Thanks, Chucky.”

Annabelle frowned as she entered the empty clubhouse. Bishop had told her that an impromptu party had been thrown the night before but she had not expected the place to still be such a mess, usually the women that hung around would clean or even Chucky but she figured he had enough on his plate while handling the scrapyard alone the past few hours. Empty beer bottles lined the bar and scattered across the tables, the strong scent of sweat, beer and stale cigarettes hung in the air causing her to scrunch her nose. She could feel her sneakers sticking to the floor with every step as someone had spilled a sticky beverage then improperly cleaned it leaving the wood with a lingering residue. Annabelle hummed to herself as she began to collect the empty bottles and used glasses off the tables, stacking the cups into two small towers as she tossed the bottles into a bag for recycling. After a short search of the clubhouse for any cleaning supplies- which she had found tucked into a small closet just across from the bathroom, she hooked her phone up the subpar sound system before hitting shuffle on her favorite cleaning playlist.

Bishop unhooked his helmet and balanced it on his bike before he shed his riding gloves, grumbling to himself as he stuffed them into his pocket. The product transport had gone well that morning, as it had been for months now but Galindo himself had decided that he wanted to attend the handoff which had caused them some serious delays and though he had not looked at a clock for many hours now he knew that he was late to his promise to Annabelle. He had spotted her car on the way in and judging from the ridiculously loud music that was pumping from the clubhouse that was where he would find her. He shook his head to himself as he led the rest of the charter up the porch steps, wondering how on earth someone could stand constantly listening to music on what had to be the highest volume level possible. Bishop raised his eyebrows as he watched Annabelle carry a case of beer with her eyes closed as she jammed out to the song that was playing, unaware of their presence as she could not hear them over the music.

“Damn girl, how do you have eardrums?” Gilly questioned, rubbing his ears as he lowered the volume to become a low hum of background noise. Annabelle’s eyes shot open as she discovered she had an audience before she sent the man a disapproving look.

“The louder the better, especially when it comes to the Beastie Boys.” Annabelle dropped the case of beer onto the bar, sending Gilly a nod, “Since you crashed my private party, you can load the fridge.”

Bishop smirked before he gestured toward the bar, “You heard the lady, get to work.”

“Did you clean this place all by yourself?” Taza inquired, settling himself into one of the empty chairs.

“My shoes were sticking to the floor, I feared that if I stood in one place too long that I would never be able to leave.”

“You say that like it would be a bad thing.” Angel scoffed, rounding the bar to collect himself a beer.

“Thank you, Annabelle.” Taza showed his appreciation with a smile before glancing around to the other bikers with a suggestive glance.

“Thank you, Annabelle.” They repeated in unison like a class of first graders that had been scolded by their teacher after not presenting enough enthusiasm.

“You are very welcome but don’t get used to it, clean up after yourselves, neither the hang-arounds nor I happen to be your mother.” Annabelle scolded as she circled around the bar, the bikers all amused at the pep in her step as she came to a stop in front of Bishop, smiling at him with the most innocent eyes she could muster. “You ready to go, babe?”

Annabelle had insisted on taking the driver's seat, it was her car after all, but it caused Bishop to start to doubt his decision to provide her with a car that was able to push limits when it came to speed- the woman's foot seemed to be made of pure lead. Bishop found himself tempted to kiss the ground when they reached the shelter, he was used to reaching high speeds on his bike but even Annabelle’s speeds had made him nervous.

Annabelle sighed as her dark eyes scanned the building. It had been so many years since she had been there but the time she had spent there was burned into her mind.

“You good, sweetheart?” Bishop asked, stepping up to her side when he noticed her disconnected behavior. He knew that the shelter doubled as a detox centre and based upon her sudden hesitancy he assumed that she had spent some time in the backroom at some point. He gently took her hand in his own, his thumb softly running over the back of her hand to help bring her comfort. “Let’s get you a dog, a big dog, not one of those little yappy fuckers.”

“Oh yeah, adopt a poor dog and train it into a ready to attack anyone guard dog- it's for reasons like that people label Pit Bulls and other large dogs as vicious breeds. It’s not a guard dog, just a companion for when you’re stuck on a run.”

Puppy dog eyes- something that Annabelle would often mimic in order to swing things in her favor but after pacing up and down the narrow corridor with dozens of puppy dog eyes pleading with her to take them home she vowed to herself that it would no longer be a tactic she would use. A golden retriever, a labradoodle, a dachshund, a springer spaniel… the list went on and she was stuck, if she had her way she would take them all home but Bishop had quickly curbed that impulse.

“There is one more dog,” Sarah, the woman who was in charge broke Annabelle out of her thoughts, “He’s just a baby so I wasn’t planning on letting anyone adopt him yet but I think he might be a perfect match for you.”

Sarah had recognized Annabelle from her time spent there immediately but no one spoke a word of the past occurrence. Annabelle’s presence had stuck with Sarah all these years later because she had a certain drive to come clean and improve her life even though she carried such a heavy sadness on her shoulders at the time- she could honestly say that seeing her still clean gave her a twinge of happiness. Bishop had been patient with Annabelle, allowing her all the time she needed to choose her animal companion and he would not admit it to anyone but he was growing tired of waiting for her to make a choice which is why he felt such a strong sense of relief when Sarah brought out the puppy.

“A Saint Bernard? He’s so tiny.” Annabelle immediately took the fluffy brown and white pup into her arms, greeting the puppy by scratching it between its floppy ears as it attempted to cover her face with slobbery licks.

“He’s only a month old. He was found abandoned in an alley and brought here last week.” Sarah explained, smiling as she gently patted the dog's head.

“Look at him, Obispo, isn’t he so precious?” Annabelle asked, altering her voice into a goofier, baby-like tone as she held the small dog out for the Mayan to get a better look. “Can we adopt him? Please?” Annabelle pleaded with Bishop, going back on her self promise to not put puppy dog eyes to use. The Mayans President chuckled at her behavior, she did not need to use such eyes on him as he would quickly cave and give her anything she ever wanted in that moment.

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counterpunches · 4 years

Text

End (Beginning Movement)

Fandom: The Haunting of Bly Manor Pairing: Dani Clayton/Jaime Taylor Rating: T Wordcount: 4,137 Note: all the thanks to the incredible @foomatic for being a fantastic beta and even better friend. so much so that she actual recorded herself reading the story to help ID and fix all the tenses to make it coherent and then just straight up turned it into a podfic set to the show's musical score. Its way cooler than I ever thought it'd be, so feel free to please check it out here

Summary: If standing silently and bearing witness was all Jamie could do, she gladly took the weight of it if it meant one less thing for Dani to carry. Jamie coiled it tight back into herself and created her own waiting, lurking beast. Jamie was quiet with her rage for a while, until she was shaking with it. Until it threatened to explode out of her skin like a bomb and she wouldn’t ever - ever - let Dani come close to the shrapnel. Instead she was the steady rock that Dani needed and imploded later, somewhere else, somewhere safe. She just wanted to fucking break something. Couldn’t get her hands on the Lady, couldn’t pull her out of Dani, so she had to find the next best thing.

Also on AO3

It was easy, Jamie thought, as her head pounded and temple throbbed.

Well, not so much now, at this moment, with a hangover thundering out a pulse on the timpani of her skull as she clung to the toilet like a lover in the night. Every joint and muscle aches, a combination of sleeping half slumped over in the bathroom, age, and the consequences of booze. She leans back with a groan, back twinging, shoulders popping, and as nausea roils, takes a few deep breaths to settle her stomach. Evidently spending the rest of last night praying to the porcelain god didn’t buy her any grace today.

But in general, it was easier, spending the night chasing the bottom of a pint glass, in a way nothing else was these days. Christ, even breathing was hard. Been hard since the day her lungs fought for surface despite her best intentions. Been burning with it, since, taking in air in a world that Dani Clayton no longer existed in.

The water refused to take her, so she’d found another way to drown.

So yeah. It was easy, sliding into bad habits like an forgotten favorite jacket. A glass of wine became a bottle. What was one or two nights to forget against a million more? A bottle quickly became too slow. Why waste time, Jamie thought, chasing one cup after another? Best to jump straight to the hard stuff, then.

Jamie never beat around the bush before, seemed no point in starting now, her bluntness having been softened over the years by Dani’s love. The very edges of her ebbed into the waters of an ocean that was no longer there. Jamie was parched. She was so thirsty. So she drank.

Wrong kind of love can fuck you up. Right one can, too.

Just as bad, really.

Worse, if you’re lucky.

Love and possession may be opposites, but Jamie had given her heart away a long time ago and she didn’t know how to keep it beating when it was no longer hers. Everything she was had already been given over to Dani. Given eagerly. Freely. Like all things best loved are. And that’s the thing about a freed thing, isn’t it? Doesn't come back just because you want it to. Just because you miss it.

This part of her - it isn’t peaceful, Dani had said. And Jamie had understood.

Understood in blood and bone, in the way something so small and insignificant can snap. Remembers how rage can end with kneeling in a rain-soaked alleyway, groaning from an ass kicking she probably deserved, probably was searching for, blood trickling down from a split eyebrow. Remembered how she grimaced, the twinge in her ribs matching the bitter taste of metal in her mouth, but it’d hurt and there was a sick measure of comfort in that; making part of the world match the brokenness inside her.

So yeah. She knew rage. Recognized it. Hated that something so ugly and angry and raw resided inside of Dani, something that couldn’t possibly exist naturally - there wasn’t an atom of that kind of violence in Dani’s body. She wouldn’t give into the wrath, Jamie knew even then, in the cradle of knowing her. Dani would never. And the unfairness of her having to suffer through the struggle of it anyway made the part of Jamie that resonated in recognition with Viola burn.

It’s you. It’s me. It’s us, the rage said, taunting her through the fissures of Dani’s struggle.

It was all she could do to hold it in that day, her teeth cracking under the weight of it, in the horrible quiet of the room as Dani confessed. As she gave voice to the terrible truth that now resided in her. She’s waiting, Dani had whispered. If standing silently and bearing witness was all Jamie could do, she gladly took the weight of it if it meant one less thing for Dani to carry. Jamie coiled it tight back into herself and created her own waiting, lurking beast.

And Jamie knew from past experience that the only way to control the beast was to let it out of captivity from time to time. To let the monster run wild and exhaust itself so she could wrestle it back into the cage.

The rage festered. Jamie felt it rumbling deep in her chest.

So when Dani finally left the room with a shaky determination (“Better find out what those kids are getting up to,"), Jamie knew she had to let it breathe.

No one would remember where the dent in the wall came from. It was chalked up as an accident, caused by one of the many pieces of furniture having knocked into things on its way out to the moving truck. Jamie had to hold in the scream that broiled inside and searched for a safer place for it to land.

She still had to walk by that fucking lake to get to the greenhouse.

Under cover of the potted sanctum, Jamie let loose the beast. Anger clawed, scratching out her throat. The greenhouse was excellent at absorbing sound, plants and leaves shaking with the echoes of her cries, and if Jamie’s voice seemed a little hoarse, it was easy enough to blame it on something else. Easy enough, to explain away her split knuckles on mis-gauging the distance while bringing one of the heavier boxes outside. Or scraping it against some gravel. Or anything other than slamming her fist into the wall again and again and again.

It was new though, needing to find ways to hide it from Dani. Never had to hide it from anyone before. She used to display her beast proudly, a mark of pride that said ‘don’t fuck with us.’ Didn’t have to hide her beast in prison, either. Everyone had one of their own; it was why they’d all ended up there in the first place. More than a few learned how to deal with it in therapy. Jamie tamed hers in the jungle of a garden.

Not a single part of her looked in the rear view mirror as they drove away. Would never have stopped the truck if it could’ve kept Dani safe. So she did what little she could do. All the fear, the terror that already threatened to split Dani further in two, the new shell of a person Dani had to live with, Jamie took it from her. Buried it deep within herself, felt it so that Dani wouldn’t have to. Drew out the poison from Dani’s soil and into her own roots.

And then, in her most private moments - few and far between, really, for there was nothing unshared between them - Jamie let out the venom, the resentment, the fury, that she collected. Outrage that the world dared spin, indifferent to the unfairness of it all.

She just wanted to fucking break something. Couldn’t get her hands on the Lady, couldn’t pull her out of Dani, so she had to find the next best thing.

Viola was quiet in her rage. Jamie wasn’t with hers. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She was, for a while, at least.

That first year was full of small moments: the way Dani’s shoulders would never fully relax, tension rarely leaving her body, even in sleep. How she kept looking over her shoulder at rest stops and gas stations, as if the Lady were a drifter, following them on the highways, across states, through the unfolding ribbon of their adventure. Jamie found she could cover up those incidents with the smug satisfaction of having bested the unavoidable for another day. Another week. Another month.

Her demon was dormant for a good long while, in the solace of Dani’s love. Dormant like Viola’s fucking ghost, it turned out. Things were so good for so long, it almost seemed to purr, content in it’s hibernation.

Jamie’s beast woke with a sudden and curious start, after that night in the kitchen after Paris. Started to sniff, hungry for any little scrap. Found too many for comfort - the way Dani started to wake up earlier, as if perhaps she hadn’t slept at all; how it would take her just a moment longer to turn off the water; the times Jamie had to repeat Dani’s name until she jerked, as if suddenly finding herself transported somewhere new - it began pacing in its cage, hungry now, banging on the bars.

Jamie was quiet with her rage for a while, until she was shaking with it. Until it threatened to explode out of her skin like a bomb and she wouldn’t ever - ever - let Dani come close to the shrapnel. Instead she was the steady rock that Dani needed and imploded later, somewhere else, somewhere safe.

She could see how close to the edge Dani was, on some days. How it seemed even the barest breeze would blow her from herself entirely, leaving an empty, unblinking husk behind. It was all Jamie could do to steer her back from the cliff each time.

Jamie had to coax Dani back to the world, breathe life into her lips some mornings as she stared into the ceiling, eyes open and blank; her very own Sleeping Beauty. Each time it felt like a kiss goodbye. Stay with me. Please. Come back to me. A miracle, when she did, even if Dani slipped further and further away each time like a boat on the horizon. Jamie would stroke her face with trembling hands, afraid even the gentlest touch would cause the delicate thing to disintegrate beneath the pads of her fingers.

Dani always came first. Even as Jamie’s own creature grew stronger and louder, she held it in. Found controlled environments to let it run wild.

There was something oddly comforting about the alleyway. There’s a familiar landscape all back alleys share - brick, concrete, dumpster, a car or two, usually a fair amount of scattered garbage, and the near ubiquitous empty, overturned storage crates used by the weary for smoke breaks or breakdowns of all shapes and sizes - an alley was an alley was an alley.

The only thing that marked it as theirs was a few hanging ferns on the corner of the doorway. Something to signal the threshold, announce the life bursting and growing just inside. Something growing in the barren landscape of a back alley. Something to remind a younger Jamie of what could lie on the other side, if she stood long enough to reach up for it.

So she destroyed things in the alleyway. When the cruelty of the matter absolutely broke her - when Jamie had to sew the fraying pieces of Dani back together because Viola was slowly pulling the seams of her apart; when she desperately scooped handfuls of Dani even as she was slipping through her fingers like sand - Jamie would break something else.

Jamie took her rage, and smashed it against the brick or asphalt in a shower of pottery in the alleyway. Pots, planters, saucers, she grabbed damaged items from the shop and broke them even further, until her chest heaved and panted from the effort of it in the shards under her feet. When the alley wasn’t a possibility and her screams of frustration and the clatter of smashing ceramic would would threaten to draw Dani out from the thinning fragility of their life together, Jamie would punch bags of soil in the storage room until the they burst, earth pouring to the floor, and leaving her standing in a shallow grave of her own making.

Nothing to hide, once Dani is gone.

Easier to get lost in the anger, and Jamie let it consume her like an uncontrolled blaze until nothing but ash remained. Fitting, she thought, for the daughter of a coal miner. It came to claim her, pulling her into itself, not to grow, not to nourish, but to press her into something that burned. And oh, she burned.

It would scare her, she thought, that she hadn’t changed. In all this time, in all these years, underneath the layers of soil and earth, below the roots, the same creature lurked in the dirt of Jamie’s own jungle. A monster that threatened to take her too. That she wished would. A demon of wrath and anger. Of pain and suffering and the shit end of the stick every time.

Despite the years, despite the love and relative calm that settled over her life - since gardening, since Dani - she was still the same enraged, lost, thing. Every living thing comes from every dying thing and it’s natural and she knows that but what she didn’t understand is how to keep living when the core of you is already dead; how was it possible for these two things to co-exist at once. The impossibility of the thing. The decaying mortality. This unholy living. Feels unnatural.

Jamie couldn’t breathe. She couldn't, she couldn’t-

And there, there it was. Specks of dried toothpaste on the mirror. It shouldn’t have been the thing to undo her. After all, it could’ve been hers or Dani’s. But it could have been. Dani’s. Such a casual, mundane thing - a flick of the wrist, rinsing off the toothbrush, spitting into the drain - leaving behind a stain. A mark. Something to be thoughtlessly wiped off and cleaned later, leaving no sign it had once been there. No indication someone had been there at all. No impression of a life built together, their hips casually leaning against one another while flossing, or the yelp of surprise at the shock of cold water after flushing the toilet while the other is in the shower. The apology that came after, sliding through the shower curtain to make it up to them, a tongue sliding into the folds of their ear, hands slipping down to the folds of thighs, into slicks of wet and warm. The absolute mess on the floor afterwards of errant water sloshing out the tub.

The tub.

The floor.

The water that had taken them both. The water that refused to take Jamie.

Not the water, she corrected. Dani. Dani, who refused to take Jamie along on one last adventure. Do you want company? She had asked, all those years ago. Can I walk by your side? Will you take me with you?

And there it was - her beast - clawing up her spine, smashing with a roar into the mocking mirror pane. Again she roared, again she cried, until a dozen fractured shards were all that was left of the toothpaste, left of Jamie’s broken heart, all that was left of Dani. Again and again she struck the mirror until the pain from her bleeding knuckles pulled her out of it and she sank, depleted, sobbing on the floor.

So she drank.

And got into more than a few fights while she was at it. Needed a better opponent than flower pots and dirt, though - she’d already destroyed a decent part of the shop. She needed something to twist her fists into, something that would punch back, something that would make her hurt.

When she drove home, she’d try to ignore the voice in her head that sounded so much like Dani (“You could kill somebody, Jamie. Jesus!”) she almost veered off the road looking at the passenger’s side.

Left the fucking mirror in the bathroom where it was, a broken and half empty self-portrait. Tossed the glass in the bin and swept it away where the edges of a life that no longer existed wouldn’t cut her. Pleased there was nothing to look at getting ready in the mornings, nothing to catch her eye stepping out of the shower, nothing to reflect. Nothing to look at. Nothing at all.

And so it stayed as the weeks wore on. The medicine cabinet pulled open for badly needed aspirin after a particularly rough night or tougher morning, band-aids for the cuts on her knuckles, no mirror on the outside to mock the bruises on her cheek or the split eyebrow from what might have been a night of bad choices but were the only ones that seem to make sense anymore.

The only thing that helped ease the ever-throbbing, dull ache from every corner of her heart was to press the hurt. A walking bruise, Jamie desperately sought solace to cauterize the bleeding wound of loss.

The less Jamie had to look herself in the eye for it, the better.

Which left her here: waking up on the bathroom floor, slouched over the toilet, curls of hair plastered on her cheek from a substance she can only assume to be last night’s dried vomit.

Left here, on the bathroom floor, as empty and hollow as Dani had been in what turned out to be her final few days.

Left here, left behind.

If Jamie squints, she can almost see the glimmer of Dani, twinkling like fairy lights on the tile.

But the longer Jamie sits there, legs growing numb from her cramped position, the sparkle doesn’t go away. Matter of fact, it starts to get annoying. She swats at it, trying to suffer her grief and hangover in peace.

She pulls her hand back with a hiss. The light has an edge to it. It bites.

A piece of the shattered mirror. Must’ve been there for weeks now, having fallen behind the toilet, forgotten. Jamie holds it carefully, staring at the broken reflection of her face for a long time. Stares until it stares back. Until the beast, she realizes finally, the one who has stalked her her whole life, has quietly slinked away. She listens for it - the telltale heat of it simmering just under her skin. But she doesn’t feel anything.

The unfairness of it all remains. But there’s something else in the emptiness, she realizes.

Dani.

There’s a chance - far fucking fetched, she knows - but a chance that maybe, just maybe, the emptiness will stare back. And it will look like someone she loved. Loves, she corrects. Loving Dani will always be in the present. Jamie, crumpled on the floor, bleeding from an aching heart, will always be surrounded by the ghost of Dani. Haunted by a life built and shared and grown. A life taken. Cut short. A leafling, snipped from the vine at the most beautiful stage of maturation. Haunted, sure. But not alone. Something to be said for the chance that Dani will appear.

Jamie will be haunted by Dani for the rest of her days regardless, she knows, phantom or no. Might as well wait, Jamie thinks wryly, got a lot to tell her off for.

She spent more than a few years living with ghosts, anyway. Only difference is, this time she’ll be aware of it. Besides, no one else she’d rather be haunted by. It was Dani forever. Said as much herself that day in the shop. I’ve got a problem, Poppins. Dani would always be it for her. And some problems can’t be fixed. Can only sit and learn to live with them like old friends.

So Jamie scrapes herself off the floor. She shuffles to the kitchen to grab the broom and sweeps the broken pieces of the last few broken months into the bin, cautious of the edges this time.

She gets dressed. Puts away the bottles. Collects the half-eaten take out containers and napkins that litter the apartment. Takes out the trash. Waters the plants. Prunes the dead leaves. Repots herself and let her roots overcome the shock of replanting, remembering the work of living.

Drives to the hardware store and buys a replacement panel for the bathroom. Mounts it in the frame, reverently touching the mirror’s edges. Because if there’s a chance, even a single chance - weeks, months, years from now - that Jamie’s personal ghost will come back to haunt her, she doesn’t want to miss a second of it. Doesn’t want to risk being too drunk, face down in a toilet somewhere, too angry to remember seeing Dani’s face. Doesn’t want Dani seeing that.

Doesn’t want it all to be for nothing, hiding her secret beast for all those years. Having worked so hard to make sure Dani never saw that part of her, the one who went wild and feral, hissing and clawing at the world and it’s indifference. Never wanted to let her beast get close to Dani, close enough to scratch. Not Dani, who struggled so hard to keep tame her own demons.

She’d be a rather shit wife if she started now. Just because Dani was gone doesn’t mean Dani wouldn’t see.

Doesn’t mean it’s easy though, either. It’s hard. Hardest fucking thing she’s ever done, since pulling herself out of that lake when all she had wanted to do was drown in it. That wasn’t difficult, that was instinct. This will be a choice. Every day, for the rest of her life, will be a choice. One she has to make again and again.

Jamie longingly traces the pair of earrings lazily forgotten, left out on top of the dresser, in a bygone act of normalcy to be left now in memoriam, and pulls out one of Dani’s favorite shirts from the drawer, that awful slinky pink one that snagged on every last thorn and branch in the shop. Pretty in love with you, it turns out. Inhaled. Breathed in every last atom of Dani until her lungs were trembling with her. She slid the shirt on like armor and prayed the delicate fabric would be strong enough to help withstand the weight of the world ahead.

She took a few steps to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and did battle with the first night of the rest of her life. Let the sink fill, stared at the water, and took a deep breath.

It took years for Dani to see the Lady. They were grateful for it then - relieved, actually, that they managed to get so much time. But now, all Jamie wants is for the haunting to come quickly. Do you want company?

For a long time, all Jamie Taylor wanted to do was forget. Forget Lancashire, forget the taunts, the sound of banging, of Louise’s girlish flirting, Mikey’s crying. Forget the whirl of sirens, the creak of a door opening in the dead of night, a weight dipping on the bed next to her. Forget London, forget prison, forget her, forget all of it. Forget Bly, forget the Lady, forget Viola was ever a dark spot to stain the bright garden of their life. She drank thirstily, fought desperately, all to forget the pain, forget that Dani was gone, was never coming back, and that she doesn’t remember how to be Jamie without Dani by her side.

Except now, she realized, on the off-chance Dani’s face would stare back in the mirror or from beneath the water, she wanted to see every last line, every curve of her face. If that meant suffering the empty, aching, endless days to do so, then so be it.

It’s you. It’s me. It’s us, she’d screamed to the Lady, to the hatred inside both of them, the fury that stormed stronger than death.

But after the flames expunge and the coals cool, Jamie remembers now, there’s more than just rage in the quiet parts. There’s patience. Love. Kindness. That things grow with just a little bit of water. A little, instead of all at once.

Water can give life, not just take it away.

It was easy to forget that small truth when the waves crashed and swept her below, unable to gain footing before another came crashing down and pulled her under. She did it once, on her own, in her youth and loneliness. She can learn how to do it again; to exist in stillness and quiet without Dani. A little, instead of all at once.

She lets loving Dani warm instead of burn. Like a comforting hearth beckoning the weary home.

She ran her fingers along the cool porcelain of the sink, reverently, as if it were Dani’s skin she was touching; Dani’s face she was caressing; Dani, she was loving.

Jamie takes a deep, shuddering breath, and looks up. Squares her shoulders, baring all of herself to the mirror, forces herself to look.

She’ll wait forever if she has to.

But first, just one night.

Beautiful things worth loving and tending to can bloom at night; under the blanket of darkness, there’s still life. And if she keeps pouring all her love and effort into it, maybe one day it’ll all make sense. She can see where it goes.

#damie #thobm #The Haunting of Bly Manor #dani x jamie #dani clayton x jamie taylor #my fanfic #april's the best everyone go thank her for hammering this into sense

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sunshine-shitposts · 4 years

Text

ALRIGHT. First selfship piece is going UP. I got some big inspiration from @amethystsoda and @dongiovannaswife so like... love you guys 💖💖 no stinky vampire man... yet. Hoping to get the next part up within the next week.

Dust in the Wind—Part 1

It had been a while since Jotaro had been to the Dallas Speedwagon Foundation Headquarters, and it had since moved locations to outside downtown… somewhere.

It was a damn pain if you asked him.

Dallas was a mess to move around in; you were better off on foot, since there were so many one-way streets. His grandfather had explained, the first time that he had brought his grandson to the Foundation in Dallas, that it was probably because car size in America outgrew the more narrow streets that Dallas began with. Jotaro himself didn't really understand it until he saw for himself: Texans loved big cars. There was an astonishing amount of pick up trucks here, compared to other places he'd been.

He wasn't very familiar with Texas, he had to admit. He'd visited Galveston and Corpus Christi more often for marine work, though he had to admit to himself that they weren't his favorite places in terms of the ocean; this side of the coastline of the Gulf of Mexico tended to have a lot of sediment in its water. When he stayed at a house in a place called Crystal Beach for a while, he remembered how searching for hermit crabs with a colleague was rather annoying due to the brown murkiness of the water.

The houses on stilts were quite novel, though.

...That was enough reminiscing.

Jotaro huffed, figuring he could just go to the old location to ask for assistance—it was still being used by the Foundation despite it not being the main building anymore—when a bright voice floated through the air.

"Hey, mom. Y'got everything?"

"Yes, but it's a lot, you know, they turned in projects… can you open the trunk?"

"'Course, no problem. Gimme a sec…"

Jotaro looked up from his map, seeing a young woman helping her mother begin to load several large rolled up cardboard tubes into the back seat of a small blue hatchback.

The woman was dressed comfortably, a boon in the blossoming Texas heat, with a black wide-brimmed hat and minty-colored sunglasses and a lazy smile on her face. She couldn't have been more than an inch over five feet, and her wavy purple hair fluttered in the wind. What didn't look conducive to staying cool were the dark, full-length leggings under her jean shorts or the knee-length, full sleeve knit cardigan, but he knew what it felt like to have a comfort jacket. Her mother, several inches taller than her, was well (albeit colorfully) dressed with a lanyard and ID swinging around her neck, and a mobile folding cart filled with books, folders, and cardboard tubes. The mother's hair, a light silvery-blonde that fell around her shoulders, made Jotaro wonder if they were actually related, but he admitted to himself that stranger things do happen, and hair dye did exist.

Jotaro hummed to himself and looked back at the map as a gust of wind between the tall buildings sent papers scattering, the mother crying out in dismay.

"Sunnie–!!"

"Don't worry mom, I got it."

Jotaro watched the paper of his map flutter suddenly and unexpectedly, swooping in the opposite direction that it had been previously. It was such a sudden change that Jotaro looked back up from the map, only to see all the papers floating through the air to finally gather into the young woman's outstretched hand.

"I'll never ever understand how you can do that," the mother said, her voice equal parts thankfulness and bafflement, "And I don't think I ever will."

"You keep saying that, y'know," her daughter laughed, easily hefting the heavy folding cart into the trunk of her car.

"I know!! But it's true, it's like magic! But real!!"

Jotaro focused his gaze on the young woman.

Stand users are drawn to each other.

When the two women were nearly finished loading all of the mother's things into the car, he approached them, trying to relax his intense demeanor as much as possible. The woman's mother reminded him a lot of his own, and he didn't want to frighten her.

"Excuse me," he asked, fishing around in a pocket inside his coat to pull out his notebook. The two women turned to look at him, the mother's eyebrows raising as she made an 'oooh' noise. Her daughter's expression, however, was completely unreadable behind her large sunglasses, but Jotaro felt her gaze. Her carefree attitude had suddenly disappeared, and he knew that she was likely sizing him up. He wondered if she, too, felt the same weird restlessness in her own chest. "I was wondering if you could tell me how to get here," he continued. Her mother leaned in to see the address written on the notebook's page, then lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Sunnie! He's asking about the Speedwagon Foundation!"

Immediately, the daughter seemed to relax, looking at the page as well. "Oh, no shit?" After another second, her eyebrows rose above her sunglasses. "Oh! No shit!!"

"You know of it?" Jotaro asked, putting the notebook back into the chest pocket.

"Know of it? I'm heading there, after I drop mom back off at the house," the younger woman laughed, extending her arm for a handshake. "I'm Sunnie Green, recently employed by the Foundation. Good to meet you, Mr…?"

"Jotaro Kujo," he replied, accepting the shake and subsequently drowning her small hand in his own. Her shake was strong and firm and confident in a pleasantly unexpected way.

The second he said his name, though, a wry grin broke out on her face.

"No fuckin' way," Sunnie said, surprised, "I have heard some stories. Good to meet you in the flesh. Foundation's been expecting you."

Jotaro grunted. He knew that after his 'trip' to Egypt all those years ago, people at the Foundation liked to gossip about him, and he had hoped that those tales and rumors had died down, but it seemed that they'd persisted. He wondered if they'd only gotten more wild with time. "Well. That aside, if you could point me in the right direction, it would be much appreciated."

"Well, uh, it's not quite in Dallas anymore? It's a bit away from here, so uh…" Sunnie trailed off, her face scrunching up in thought.

"Sunnie," her mom stage-whispered, "Sunnie, you should drive him there."

"Huh-whaa?" Sunnie looked at her mom, eyes wide, then nodded like a lightbulb went off over her head, crossing her arms and grinning, "Yeah!! Yeah, that just makes sense. That makes so much sense!!"

"That won't be necessary–" Jotaro began, but Sunnie shot him a confident grin.

"Don't be silly! This is the perfect solution. It's late in the day, getting a taxi or rideshare there will cost you money you don't need to spend, I mean come on. I'm right here, dude. I gotcha." The smaller woman laughed and put the final bag of papers in the trunk of her car, shutting the door. "I'm not taking no for an answer. And mom?" she looked at her mom expectantly, who smiled widely.

"I'll sit in the back!" She beamed before looking back up at Jotaro, "That way you don't have to sit with all the projects."

Without giving him the chance to offer otherwise, Mrs. Green made her way to the back seat, opening the door and getting in. Jotaro breathed a quiet sigh, gathering himself before he walked to the front passenger's door and opened it. He did not miss Sunnie's triumphant smirk before he ducked inside. To his surprise, it was actually roomy inside the small car. At least, roomy enough to be comfortable for him. There was some music softly playing over the speakers and a water bottle in one of the cupholders, and dangling off of the rearview mirror were some small pom poms and repurposed cell phone charms, several of them Pokémon. In a little storage area under the main console, he saw a lanyard with an ID decorated with the Speedwagon Foundation logo on it.

Sunnie got in the car as well, buckling up and shifting out of park, turning smoothly into the street when it was safe.

"I'm excited for you to go to the new Foundation Headquarters, Mr. Kujo," Mrs. Green chirped, hands patting her bright red jeans excitedly, "Some of my former students helped decorate the interior! I'm very proud of their work."

"Mom's an interior design professor," Sunnie laughed, "Used to get hired for private homes and hospitals and stuff. There was that one home on White Rock with the spiral staircase? Fucking dope."

"I still talk to them," her mom said airily, "Sometimes I stop by for cookies."

Jotaro didn't quite know how to respond. The two women were very open and friendly and it was making him feel… strange. Was it just a Texan thing in general? Joseph had once mentioned 'Southern Hospitality'. Then again, who could say? The old man liked to talk for the sake of talking sometimes.

He caught a minute glance from Sunnie, who then leaned her head back, a lazy grin on her face.

"So mom, what're all those projects in the back?" She asked, "No balsa wood models this time? That was a nightmare to transport."

"But those were group projects and they were light weight! These plans are deceptively heavy and there are so many–"

As Carol rambled on about the projects sitting around her, Jotaro found himself happy that Sunnie seemingly sensed his discomfort and acted on his behalf to divert her mother's attention. He zoned out, his mind stuck on the impending meeting—one that he had never imagined he would have to have, and one that was admittedly making him feel a little sick in his stomach.

The red brick house they arrived at was in a quiet little subdivision about 40 minutes in traffic away from Downtown Dallas, lined with large trees and with a nice pond. The houses were all two stories, most driveways accessible from the street, and the summer warmth and ample sunshine had the lawns dotted with flowers of many colors. Sunnie parked the car in front of the pebbled sidewalk to the house, and the large dark blue front door opened. A salt-and-pepper haired man with a moustache walked out, wearing an old shirt and jeans and carrying a duffle bag. Sunnie and Mrs. Green got out of the car, and Jotaro decided to get out as well.

The man, presumably Mr. Green, seemed surprised. "I doubt one of your students turned him in," he laughed nonetheless. Mrs. Green giggled.

"No, no! He's with the Foundation!" Mrs. Green explained, and her husband rolled his eyes.

"I was kidding, Carol," he said, voice deadpan. Sunnie snickered.

"We found him looking for the new campus downtown, so I offered to take him there. Speaking of, we gotta get this stuff outta the Spaceship so we can head out," Sunnie turned to Jotaro, "This won't take too long–"

"I'll help," he told her, "Least I can do."

Sunnie paused, pursed her lips, and nodded.

With four sets of hands, unloading took no time at all, but Jotaro once again noted that Sunnie seemed stronger than her smaller size let on. At the end of it, her dad handed her the duffle bag, which she tossed in the back seat.

"See you in a few days," she said, hugging her parents, "Don't get too wild without me around."

"Darn. We'll have to cancel that crazy party," her dad grinned, and she smacked him on the arm.

Jotaro got back into the car with Sunnie, and she drove them out of the subdivision.

"…Do you live with your parents?" Jotaro asked, a sudden burst of curiosity getting the better of him. Sunnie looked at him out of the corner of her eye for a brief second, then turned her gaze back to the road as she flipped on her turn signal.

"I left my husband recently," she said, smoothly turning onto the service road, and Jotaro suddenly felt incredibly awkward, "Got out of the apartment as fast as I could. Grabbed a few things, said goodbye to the dog, and fucking split. It was really sudden, and since I don't have that much money to my name and my husband currently is in control of my finances, living with my parents is easier. I'm actually in my childhood room right now, when I stay at the house." She laughed dryly, merging onto the turnpike.

"Mm," Jotaro simply responded, and Sunnie laughed.

"It's not weird, dude, come on. Chill," she said, passing a particularly large eighteen wheeler and switching two lanes to the left, "I mean, it's kinda weird. But it's fine. I don't mind. I've heard a lot about you from some of the other employees already, I think it's fair that you know about me, if just a little." She looked at him briefly, eyes twinkling. "You're kind of a hot topic at the Foundation, you know."

Jotaro shifted in his seat and looked out his window.

"Which brings me to an important point," she continued, "I know why you're here."

Immediately, he looked back at her, eyes narrowing. That was supposed to be need-to-know information.

"I'm a Liaison for the Speedwagon Foundation. That's my official title, but I have a very specific job, and he is why you're here."

"You mean you–"

"Yes, and I'm aware of your history with him. Well, with the one from here." Her finger tapped the steering wheel pointedly. "I know you don't like him, that you have reason to not like him, and I know you won't like this one. But I'm imploring you not to start shit with him when you see him, okay? I've told him not to start shit with you so, you know, if you would be so kind."

Jotaro audibly gritted his teeth. This was just his fucking luck, running into that bastard's babysitter. "What makes you think he'd listen to you?" He growled.

"I don't know? He's been cool with me so far." She snorted. "I mean, he's an absolute piece of work, but it's been alright. No worse than teaching a class full of preschoolers can get on a bad day, but I did have to… establish that I can take care of myself against him."

"And how did you do that?"

"I stole his air," she said simply, "Made it impossible for him to breathe."

"Have you ever done that before? To someone else."

Her mouth fidgeted, eyes unreadable. They passed under the tollway in silence, broken by soft, ghastly wind chimes as a shimmering turquoise hand with a swirling wing shape on the wrist partially manifested on her shoulder, squeezing lightly before vanishing.

"You'll have to buy me a few drinks before I talk about that." Her voice was short, clipped. "I'm sure you have similar unlockable content you don't talk about otherwise."

It was a weird way to put it, but she was right. He did.

So he dropped the subject, looking back out the window.

"By the way, Catherine—Mrs. Gupta, rather—is here today, too," she said, tone easily switching from icy and guarded to light and airy, "She's the Regional COO, though I'm sure you know that. I'm told that she's the one who contacted you, after all."

Jotaro did not feel like answering. He didn't know what to say.

Sunnie merely glanced at him again, grinned to herself, and kept driving.

After Sunnie showed her credentials and pulled through the gated entrance of the new Dallas Speedwagon Foundation HQ, Jotaro let his eyebrows raise in surprise.

The previous location, having been built when Robert E. O. Speedwagon himself had struck black gold in Texas, was (while large) old, and it showed in its architecture and the relative closeness of the buildings. This, however, was a sprawling, modern campus with green spaces and fountains galore.

"We've got seven buildings here, but we'll be heading to the main one. Explore later if you'd like," Sunnie explained easily, searching for a parking spot. "I may be a… honestly kind of critical Subject Liaison, but I still don't have a dedicated parking space. That's fine, however," She lifted her finger and grinned, the sound of windchimes clinking in the air as her Stand fully manifested: lithe, vaguely robotic, feminine, and lined with light turquoise and shimmery silver. The face was mostly featureless and smooth like a plain mask, save for two large and sleek wing-like shapes on the sides, and two calculating but blank amber eyes. "We'll have her take care of this for us."

The Stand wiggled its fingers excitedly, then zoomed out of the roof of the car, unimpeded by the physical barrier. Jotaro watched, blank faced, then asked what could have been considered a very personal question.

"What's it's range?"

"Dust in the Wind's most powerful up to about six to nine feet from me, but she can and will travel quite far." That's… two to three meters, Jotaro translated in his head. "The further she gets, the less effective she is, but she's curious. She likes looking for things."

Jotaro huffed out the barest hint of a chuckle, remembering his time in jail before his trip to Egypt—how Star Platinum had brought him toys, beer, and reading materials in an attempt to placate him.

"I thought up this little tactic in college, since parking was shit there. It was cut-throat, honestly, so Windy helped scope out all the good spots." The Stand swooped down in front of the car and began nodding and pointing, motioning for them to follow. "Oh fuck yeah, it's a good one," Sunnie said happily before following as her Stand danced through the air in front of them, gracefully carving through the air. "She's playful. That's how I, uh, originally met… you know."

Jotaro looked at her, slightly confused. "Your Stand found him?"

She nodded, rounding a row of cars. "You know that weird feeling we got when we saw each other? How Stand users just kind of… know when other Stand users are around? I felt that when I first came here. She immediately jumped out and disappeared to find the source and found, well, him. Then he demanded to see the user, and bam," She shrugged, keeping one hand on the steering wheel, "We met."

Jotaro found himself grimacing at the mention of that man demanding anything and getting it. That piece of shit didn't deserve fuck all, in his opinion.

"Ah! There," Sunnie mumbled, pulling into a spot a row away from the front sidewalk. "She was right, it is good."

As she turned off the car and they both stepped out, Windy flew back to her user, nuzzling her face and disappearing. Sunnie grabbed her backpack and duffle bag from the backseat and they headed down the large sidewalk, lined with magnolias and sparkling water features.

"The old Speedwagon Foundation buildings are actually currently used for housing… supernatural objects. Like Stands tethered to items, fragments of pillars… there's this weird broken sword there that apparently possesses people, but when it does it just begs to be fixed," Sunnie rambled, shoving a hand in her long cardigan's pocket. Jotaro had to catch a breath, recalling that fight where Polnareff had indeed been possessed. That thing was here now? "This facility does a lot of R&D, field agent training, the like. Dallas has a lot of big companies around so they have some good deals, like with TI and stuff."

"You know a lot for someone who hasn't even been here for four months," Jotaro mumbled, glaring at the small woman. She glanced at him with a lazy smirk, the frog bell on her decorated backpack jingling softly as she walked next to him.

"I actually used to be in politics. Handled VAN data in my last campaign, but my strong suit was research. Following the money, making connections, y'know, all that mess," she said, tone light, "I know my way around things. Donor lists, requesting things under the FOIA, the like. I wanted to get a good picture of the Foundation before I thought about working here. And the rumors about their involvement in… supernatural matters interested me."

They walked through the large sliding glass doors into a cooled, busy lobby, shiny and sleek and new. Reflective surfaces, swooping centerpieces, statement greenery… it was impressive. What Jotaro did not appreciate was the eyes he felt on him the second he had walked in and the whispers that he knew were dancing around.

"Oh, Miss Green?" a receptionist pipped up upon seeing her, "And Dr. Kujo, oh!" The young man quickly patted down his curly chestnut hair, "I wasn't expecting you to–a-arrive together, huh. Well, Mrs. Gupta is waiting for you."

"Thanks, Mikel," Sunnie smiled, waltzing past the desk and towards a central elevator. Jotaro nodded his head slightly to the nervous young man as he continued to follow the smaller woman, stepping into the elevator. Sunnie leaned down (she didn't have to go too far) for a retina and thumb print scan, and the doors closed, the elevator smoothly starting up. They rode in silence, until the doors opened to a series of sterile white hallways.

"We're well underground, so you know," Sunnie mentioned as they began walking again. "It's easier to keep him down here with no threat of sunlight. The trick is that these lights outside his suite have a bit of UV in them. Sort of like how they keep the Pillar Man in D.C.," she informed him as they took a left, walking towards a large white double door. "Remember," she said pointedly, "No fights."

She leaned in for another eye and hand scan, and they passed through a short hall and through another sliding double door.

The first thing Jotaro saw in this more lavishly designed room was a tall, lithe, dark skinned woman with close-shaven hair wearing a golden pencil skirt and a deep forest green satin blouse, and stilettos that easily brought her close to his own height. Her expensive-looking gold jewelry and hoop earrings seemed to glitter as she turned her head towards the door, and her glossy dark red lips split into a dazzling grin.

"Sunnie! I see you've brought our guest," she said in a low voice like honey, lightly accented and melodic.

"Yep! I'm surprised he fit in my car," the smaller woman chirped as she walked into the room, "You didn't mention how tall he is."

The woman held out a well manicured hand, which Jotaro shook. "My name is Catherine Gupta. I became the regional COO of the Dallas branch of the Speedwagon Foundation a few months ago. It's good to meet you, Dr. Kujo."

"Call me Jotaro," he said, glowering at the door beyond them, "I'm assuming that's where he is?"

Mrs. Gupta nodded. "These newer facilities have several suites, some aboveground, some underground, for various purposes, if needed," she said, "When he came to us, it just made sense to stick him down here, where he is both protected and contained."

"Throwing him in a blender would be preferable," Jotaro grumbled, and Mrs. Gupta laughed lightly.

"Yes, yes, I'm aware of the Joestars' history with him," she said, shaking her head a bit, "The Foundation has extensive files on what happened in Britain all those years ago, as well as what you and your group went through. I've reviewed all of these multiple times to understand the situation fully."

"Well if that's the case, why the hell was I only recently informed of… this??" He gestured to the door beyond them, far past trying to hide the venomous rumble in his voice.

She pursed her full lips, "I wanted to tell you sooner, and believe me, I did everything in my power to convince my then-higher ups to let you know, but they were determined to keep it a secret from you and any other members of the Joestar bloodline. I felt that keeping it from you, however, was a moral failing. So I simply took the power I needed to make this happen."

He had to admit, he was impressed. She had said it so matter-of-factly that one might mistake it for an easy task, but he was aware that it almost definitely wasn't. The roiling rage he felt building inside his chest simply from being in proximity to that piece of shit subsided somewhat. "You have my thanks, then," he said quietly, "Does the Don know?"

Having been quiet up until that point, Sunnie shifted and the little frog shaped bell charm jingled, her head cocking to the side curiously. Jotaro took this to mean that she was unaware of his family tree.

"I'm still working on clearing that. I'm sure you're aware that there are a few more hoops to jump through when it comes to navigating our relationship with Passione," Mrs. Gupta chuckled. Hearing the name of the infamous Italian mafia, Sunnie's eyes blew wide and she covered her mouth slightly to whisper, 'yooooooo, what the shit, my dude', before Mrs. Gupta shot her a knowing smirk. "You would have found out soon enough, Sunnie. Just keep it secret for now, especially from him," she looked in the door's direction, and the shorter woman nodded enthusiastically.

"You got it, boss," she said, grinning widely, "Is… is the Don of Passione is a Joestar?"

"Indeed he is," Mrs. Gupta nodded, and Sunnie nearly flailed, whisper-shouting 'yo what the SHIT' again, causing the taller woman to laugh, "Though, I'll let you in on that later."

"Dope," Sunnie giggled, before noticing a tupperware box on one of the tables. "Oh～? And this is?"

"Murgh makhani from Janpreet. He made extra," Mrs. Gupta said warmly, before shooting Jotaro a glance. "My husband," she explained as an afterthought.

"FUCK yeah, tell him I say thanks," Sunnie giggled.

"Will do."

Jotaro had mostly tuned the two women out, however; he was staring at the door, glowering. Mrs. Gupta and Sunnie shared a glance.

"Welllll, I know you don't like him, but here we go. Time to face the music, I guess?" Sunnie said as she turned, her long cardigan following behind her as she nodded her head towards the door.

Mrs. Gupta raised an eyebrow at Jotaro, gesturing for him to go before her. He took a breath and turned to the door, steeling his soul and narrowing his eyes.

It was time to face Dio.

ゴゴゴゴゴ...

(Part 2)

#SunnieD #sunnie writes #SORRY GUYS I'M NOIVUSS

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fedeipox · 4 years

Text

The Way of Time (Rdr2 fanfic) - Chapter 6 (3/3)

Part 1 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640021017292636160/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-13

Part 2 here: https://fedeipox.tumblr.com/post/640495394492710912/the-way-of-time-rdr2-fanfic-chapter-6-23

Chapter 6 (3/3) - Gifts

Words: 3k

Molly was probably able to hide all those bad feelings from the other people in camp, but she couldn’t hide them from Emily: she was good with emotions, and in reading poetry. However, she had talked too much, again, and she felt mortified for how Molly had treated her. Walking around with the weight of regret on her chest, she ended up in front of her tent where Mary-Beth was still reading and Tilly was washing some clothes.

“Hello, girls. Do you need help, Tilly?”

“No, I’m almost done.”

“Is it still that book? The one with the man who wants to visit the moon?” she asked to Mary-Beth.

“Ah-ah” she affirmed.

Emily had soon found out that her books were boring and foolish, but she tried not to point it out to avoid insulting Mary-Beth. Besides, she had only three and she kept reading them again and again.

“How did the job go?” she asked to Emily.

“Good, I’ve made some money, so now I can buy you some other book. Something more interesting.”

“This one is not so bad. You have never wondered what goes on, on the moon?” “What should go on, on the moon? It’s a big cold rock.”

Mary-Beth widened her eyes.

“How do you know? You’ve been there?”

“No, of course not, but other people have.”

“You mean there’s folks living up there?”

Emily laughed, but then she saw Mary-Beth’s half hurt half curious face and decided to explain to her what apparently she didn’t know, that the moon couldn’t be colonized because there was no air and that men could only go up there with spaceships and space suits that allowed them to breathe.

“I’ve never heard of any of that” said Tilly.

“That’s because you have to wait until 1969 for that to happen.”

“So much time? We’ll probably never see that” replied a disconsolate Mary-Beth.

“But I can tell you everything about that, so it’s like you’ve lived that” Emily tried to cheer her up.

“Hey, what are you talking about?” asked Karen walking closer.

“The moon!” exclaimed Mary-Beth.

“Puff, again with your stupid fantasies?”

“It’s not a fantasy. Emily says we will walk on the moon one day.”

“Is that so? And how you expect to reach it? Riding a winged unicorn?”

Emily summoned all her patience and started explaining how Armstrong had been the first man to ever walk on the moon, how space rockets worked - without going into details that even she didn’t know, of course - and especially what gravity was, a new bizarre concept for the three girls.

“How the hell can you know all these things?” asked Karen who in spite of herself had started to get interested in what she was saying.

“I learned them, at school.”

“Are girls allowed to learn these things at school?” asked Tilly.

“Of course. We learn everything.”

“That sounds great. Can you bring me with you when you go back? The future looks so much better than now” said Mary-Beth.

Emily giggled but almost immediately she turned serious.

“If I’ll ever go back.”

...

The next morning Emily had an insistent itch on her head, and she perfectly knew the reason for that: a week, a week without a shower, a week without touching water. As she walked across the camp to reach Mr. Pearson’s kitchen and take some biscuits, scratching her head vigorously, she wondered how could those people live without washing everyday. It was humanly impossible.

“Morning, Miss Emily!” thundered Pearson with his big scratchy voice. Emily was getting used to it, he was a sort of morning alarm clock for her.

“Morning.”

“Some big plan for today?”

“Yes, washing” she murmured.

“Aah nothing better than a good bath.”

She couldn’t but agree, the only problem was: who she might have asked for a ride in town? Taking a couple of biscuits and with that question buzzing in her head she started walking around camp. Charles was her first choice, he was the one she trusted most there, so she went looking for him. Only after a couple of minutes of empty roaming she learned that he was out hunting, so her choice moved on Lenny.

“I’m on guard duty. I can’t leave my place.”

“Never mind, I’ll ask someone else.”

Javier? He was still asleep. He had had the guard turn that night. Uncle? He found an excuse not to lift his ass from the piece of shadow under which he was seated, drinking from his bottle. Dutch? Never. Bill? Emily wanted to bath in water, not in blood. In the end, she thought about Hosea. The last thing she wanted to do was disturb him, but she had no other choice, that was becoming a matter of life or death and she couldn’t delay it anymore.

“Morning, my dear” the man said when she reached him.

“Morning, Hosea” she murmured and left a slight kiss on his cheek, a habit she had taken in those days and to which Hosea still hadn’t become accustomed.

“How are you?” he asked a little embarrassed.

“Fine. I wanted to ask you for a favor.”

“What do you need?”

“I…” “Gentlemen, I’m going to Valentine for a little business.”

Emily turned around when she recognized Mr. Strauss’ voice and she fixed her eyes on the little man with the tiny glasses, walking quickly with his back bent and his ledger tightened to his chest.

She hadn’t even taken him in consideration, but after all, she didn’t mind with whom she was riding, she just needed someone who brought her to town and then back to camp. She turned again to look at Hosea and said a hasted “never mind” before she ran to Mr. Strauss.

“Good Morning, Mr. Strauss.”

“Morning, Miss Richardson.”

“You said you’re going to town. Do you mind taking me with you?”

“No, if you can keep the pace.”

“The pace? Y-you don’t… I thought you were taking a horse.” “I don’t ride horses, Miss, I walk. If that is a problem for you, you can go with someone else.”

“N-no no, it’s not a problem. I can walk.” “Good. Keep up the pace.” Without a wagon nor a horse, the little path that leaded out of the wood and on the main road seemed endless. Besides, Emily couldn’t fill the time with words because, let’s be honest, what kind of conversation could she have with Strauss? And only when they emerged from the trees she found the courage to ask him something.

“So, why don’t you ride horses?”

“I don’t like them.”

Emily raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had just found something in common with the person she thought to be the most different from her.

“Oh, well, you know, I don’t like horses, either. I can’t understand why they find them so interesting.”

“They’re easy and fast transportation.”

“Yes.”

Silence fell as they kept walking. Mr. Strauss had spoken the truth, he really had a fast pace, he almost ran with those short and skinny legs and Emily found it really difficult to keep up. For a second she wondered what was he going to do in town, but then she glanced at that ledger he tightened to his chest like a new born and realized that probably he was going there for some debts.

“Are you going to Valentine to recollect some money?”

“Lending.” “To whom?”

“I reckon you’re asking just to make conversation, but if you don’t mind I’d rather keep the names of my clients for myself.”

“Alright” Emily whispered and lowered her head. She was starting to regret her choice. Hosea would nave been a far better conversation partner.

“I know what you all think of me” said Mr. Strauss suddenly.

“Excuse me?”

“You think that what I do is disgusting, but if you think about it, compared to what other people do, my job is not so terrible. After all I don’t kill, I don’t steal, I don’t do anything which is not inside the limits of the law.”

Emily kept looking at him with wide eyes asking herself where all that was coming from. She had never questioned his “profession”, she had never spoken about it, nor expressed a judgement to his person. How could she express a judgement on a money lender in a camp of criminals? And, how could the others in camp express a judgement on him? After all, Mr. Strauss was right, they were thieves and murderers, and if they really despised him for the usury, they were a bunch of hypocrites.

“I don’t think you do anything wrong Mr. Strauss. You lend people money and then ask it back with interests. You’re like a private bank.”

“I’m glad you are such an open minded type, Miss.”

“Who knows, maybe with your job you also help some people. If someone is in extreme need of money and you lend them some, you might save their lives.”

Mr. Strauss looked at her for a moment, a second really, before he fixed his eyes again on the road.

“I don’t understand you, Miss. You look perfectly sane but at the same time you insist on that deluded story of the time travel.”

Emily huffed. It was time to try and convince him too. And she tried, for all the way to Valentine she tried convincing Strauss that she wasn’t crazy, but she couldn’t. That man was so firm and attached to his principles that she had to give up.

They parted when they reached town, with the promise to meet again in front of the general store when they had finished to do what they had to do. Strauss walked down the main road while Emily aimed for the Hotel. Mary-Beth had told her she had to go there for a bath. She climbed the four steps of the porch and walked inside.

“Morning, Miss. How can I help you?” asked the man behind the counter.

“I’m here for a bath” she said with insecurity.

“I’ll have it arranged for you” he said and walked down the corridor to his right.

Emily took the opportunity to look around: the room was rather basic with no paintings on the walls nor carpets on the floor. After all, in a town like that, what kind of luxury could they have?

“They’re warming the water, Miss. If you want to sit down while you wait” said the man coming back from the corridor and pointing to a chair.

Emily sat on the green worn out cushion and waited patiently for the water to be warmed and in the mean time she wondered how they were doing it. Maybe making it boil on the fire before pouring it inside the bathtub, just like she had seen many times in the movies?

It was exactly what they were doing and she found it out only when they let her inside the candle lit room with no windows. The average large bathtub was in the centre, a sort of basin with a mirror stood right beside the door while on the back of the room there was a partition panel for clothes changing. On a little table beside the tub there was a big bar of creamy soap and a brownish sponge, which she was sure she wasn’t going to touch.

Emily looked around her carefully and then fixed her eyes on the piping hot water. For her all that was awful: wash in a copper bathtub, with a piece of soap that God knows how many people had touched, no towels, no carpets. But she had to do it or she was sure that in a couple of days she would have got fleas.

Slowly and unsurely she undressed herself and dipped in the water. The lack of other kinds of soaps made her understand that in 1899 people made no distinction between shampoo and body soap, so she took the bar on the table and melted it in the water and, in the end, the general feeling wasn’t as bad as she expected.

She made sure to wash her hair carefully, who knew when she had had the chance to wash them again, but she tried not to spend too much time just in case Strauss had got bored of waiting for her and had chosen to go away and leave her there. But when she finished, dressed up again in a hurry, quickly gave a look at herself in the mirror, ran outside the room, paid the man his twenty-five cents and walked out of the Hotel, she didn’t find him waiting out of the general store, and that meant he wasn’t done yet. She decided to cross the street and enter the store to have a look and maybe find something interesting. Now that she had her money, she could buy anything she wanted.

“Hello there. Nice to see you again, Miss” said the owner when he recognized her.

“And you too, Mister. Do you have any books?”

“On the top shelf, up there” he said pointing a finger to the corner of the room.

He really hadn’t a big selection of books and most of them were unknown for Emily, but eventually she found what she was looking for.

“I’ll take this” she said leaving the little red book on the counter together with a couple of chocolate bars.

“Tess of the d’Ubervilles. What is this? Some kind of silly romantic novel?”

“No, it’s the story of a fallen woman who commits murder and in the end she’s hanged” she replied with a little annoyance. Did she look like someone who liked silly romantic novels?

“Well, not exactly the kind of reading for a lady” he laughed.

“But it perfectly represents the patriarchal repression that 19th century society had on women and the wrongs of a hierarchical mindset.” The man’s eyes widened and an imperceptible “oh” left his lips, but he hadn’t understood a word she had said.

“I-is that all?” he asked pointing at her purchases.

“Yes.”

She paid for the book and the chocolate and left the store. Right when she stepped outside she saw Mr. Strauss walking down the muddy street with a man following him and gesturing widely with his arms. Emily left the porch and reached the two of them, being careful not to walk too closer: the last thing she wanted was to stick her nose in Strauss’ affairs, but the two of them were talking so loudly she could perfectly hear them even if she had waited on the other side of the street.

“I have already told you Mr. Downes: you have a week.”

“B-but Mr. Strauss I have a family, I’m about to lose my house a-and…”

The man stopped to cough, bending on his knees and grasping Strauss’ arm who withdrew with a disgusted face.

“P-please, Mr. Strauss. I need some more time. Kindness… kindness will always be repaid. Be kind to me, please.” Strauss tightened his ledger to his chest and looked at the man with no trace of mercy on his face.

“You have one week” he repeated before he walked away.

With a sorry glance at the poor man, Emily reached Strauss and the two of them took the road back to camp.

“These cheap do-gooders are the worst. They believe that because they are benevolent with their neighbor everything is due to them. I have rules in my job, I expect everybody to follow them, with no exceptions.”

“Aren’t people who do good usually selfless?” asked Emily.

“I don’t get involved in matters of good and evil. That is a job for priests. All I care about is feed the mouths in camp, and the only thing I’m good at are numbers.”

Emily thought that he was a little harsh and insensible, but she couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t the goal the problem, but the means.

“You could try and… give him some more time. He looked kind of desperate.”

“I can’t delay a payment. If something happens and we are forced to flee, I won’t be able to recollect the money. And two weeks are more than an appropriate amount of time to collect thirty-four dollars.”

Just like it had happened with Javier and Dutch, Emily couldn’t find anything to reply. That man had his way of doing things, all the reasons to do so and no intention to change his mind, which meant that argue with him was impossible.

The road back was made of scattered questions and long silences, but Emily didn’t mind too much. She was clean, she was smelling of soap, she had brought chocolate and she was in a great mood. Now, following Strauss’ fast pace wasn’t a problem anymore, on the contrary, it was Strauss turn to follow the girl, who was almost running.

“Alright, thank you for bringing me with you Mr. Strauss” she said when they got to camp.

“No trouble.”

Emily ran to her tent where Mary-Beth was reading, as always. Anyway, Emily was surprised to find Tilly reading too. Not that Tilly didn’t like reading, but she preferred to avoid Mary-Beth’s silly stories.

“You can put down that thing, my friend. I bought you this” said Emily showing her the new book.

“What is it about?” asked a surprised Mary-Beth taking the book and reading the title.

“Just read it. It’s a little different from what you’re used to, but it will make you understand some things. And there is a love story in the middle.”

“Have you read it?”

“A long time ago.”

“What do you mean ‘a little different’?” asked Tilly.

“It’s a little… dark sometimes.”

“Good, I like dark things. Can I read it too?”

“Sure, you can all read it. I reckon Karen will also like it” replied Emily opening one of the chocolate bars to take a piece.

“Karen doesn’t like romantic stories” said Mary-Beth.

“Who said it’s a romantic story? Chocolate?”

“Yeah, I’ll take some” replied Tilly stretching out a hand.

“You said there is a love story in the middle” stated Mary-Beth frowning.

“Ah-ah.”

“How… how can love not be romantic?”

“You’ll be surprised.”

#rdr2 #Red Dead Redemption #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female oc #molly o'shea #leopold strauss #tilly jackson #mary-beth gaskill

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titconao3 · 4 years

Text

tagged by @beguilewritesstuff

i’m going to change the formatting bcs i’m evil like that and must ramble on, feel free to ignore. as usual, i take these things way to literally and i don’t understand the questions, probably.

tagging: whoever’s into this!

indoor plants or gardens: depends on whether we’re talking in my place, or everywhere. If everywhere, both. If my place, none: i can’t be arsed to take proper care. also i’ve tried to have plants in pots and i tried to Do Things Right and it didn’t work out, so... i gave up. know thyself and thy limits etc

cloud-watching or star-gazing both yes both, as long as i have proper eye-protection from the sun for option 1.

water or fire ...uuuh.... watching a fire in a hearth etc (i mean, not Nero style, obv) is great? but the ocean too? i don’t understand T_T

paperback or hardcover hardcover: too heavy. but i often use an e-reader.

running or hiking: omg neither. running means dying lungs, Extremely Painful Knees, etc very quickly. Hiking is... idk, everything is bad: i get all the branches in my face, all the rocks start moving when i step on them, etc. Put me in a city and i can walk for hours; put me in nature and i #suffer. i have also been somewhat traumatized by people claiming “Oh come one it’s a small easy walk not even a HIKE” and it was in fact climbing up a small mountain with very narrow, gravely, unstable paths hugging the side of the mountain and if you stumbled, ti meant a fall so SOMEHOW i have become Extra Wary of the word “hiking”

sleeping with socks or without socks although with wouldn’t be a problem. i use a hot water bottle in winter.

fruit or vegetables fruit only if i can use them in a salad, or cook them LIKE a veg.

hanging plants or succulents see above re indoor / outdoor plants. succulents also mean repotting etc; they’re not care-free.

dark wood or light wood both yes both. i have both at home, in the same room.

handwritten or typed typed is way easier to read. ofc if we’re talking postcard, personal letter etc, handwritten is more pleasant, personal touch etc. my handwriting is terrible, btw.

instagram or pinterest: neither. who wants to see my face or what i eat? no one, not even me. pinterest: i don’t even really understand what it’s for apart from thing to filter out of my google & co searches.

braids or pigtails: on me, neither. my hair refuses (because length when it’s short, because it’s not thick enough if not, and in any case it just Won’t Stay In Place)

dc or marvel i’m not super familiar with DC, although Batman is my kind of character.

books or movies why would i choose? my attention span has drastically reduced since childhood, but it means it affects both.

oceans or meadows: meadows > flowers > sneezing.

forests or fields: see meadows above

sweet or salty oh yeah i’m def not one for sugar.

ice cream or chocolate you... you (person who created this) do know there’s chocolate ice-cream, right? but i’ll go with DARK chocolate. DARK only, 70% cocoa minimum. i can accept salt / pepper / coffee / mint if i MUST, in it. D A R K

hoodies or sweaters: tbh both but a hood is def good at times.

piercings or tattoos: i have or want neither. they’re cool on other people, but i don’t really feel a need for myself. If for other people, both, if for myself, neither.

summer or winter well, the cold is easier to deal with than the heat because once you’re naked you can’t take your skin off, but longer sunlight is good? probably??

boots or sneakers WhaT Am i DOinG How Am i SupPoseD tO KnoW

cars or motorcycles: public transportation ;-) but i have a licence for cars only, not motorcycles.

curls or straight hair: i have curls, if that is the question; on other people, idgaf

castles or cottages to visit? to live in? i mean, castles are super expensive to maintain... and what kind of castle? European Middle Ages? even among those, there is a Wide Variety in architecture. if we’re including more geographical & historical areas...

sunny days or storms: once again, *bafflement* storms are really cool to watch but can be destructive, and sunny days can be too hot or painful if i don’t have sunglasses but are pleasant if mild...

reptiles or birds: as pets neither. i don't want to be responsible for a living thing, and end up not caring for them properly because i’m too tired / not in the mood etc. otherwise, i’m totally cool with both. however... birds are dinosaurs are reptiles (private joke moment!!! @pixelbypixelfanfic do you remember that museum). a baby bird pooped on my once, idk if that counts. oh and i got adult bird poop on me too. this hasn’t happened, yet, with reptiles.

disney or nickelodeon: (what about if you’re not the USA) i have never been into what we think of Disney (princesses and THE CONSTANT SINGING), and don’t have nickelodeon here

strawberries or watermelon: well i’m not into fruit or sweet things, as previously established. Watermelon can go into salads, and strawberries one in a while are okay i guess?

essays or posters... i don’t understand. posters go on wall? do you people put essays on walls??? what IS the question *sobs*

phones or laptops or desktop desktop because big screen, big keyboard, separate mouse: more comfortable. if not, laptop. if i’m desperate and far away from both, phone.

glass or stone i drink in glasses, i wear glasses, i have Pretty Decorative Stones. ik, what are we talking about?

dark or light: if it’s a computer screen setting, dark. if we’re in winter and outside, light, otherwise it’s too cold. i need context!!1!1!1!

photos or paintings: uuuuh. i have a few paintings from my grandfather around, but not photos. that's, um. i mean. photos... that’s... old? or are we talking about stuff that stays on your hard drive? i have a bunch, from trips. as long as my face isn’t there, cool; i take them to remember. i’ve found that the action of taking the pic was enough to help me remember, not necessarily looking at them again: because i make the conscious decision of taking the pic, thinking about what i want to preserve,et c, somehow it sets the brain drive into memory mode, at last better than if i didn’t take pics.

circuses or theatres: neither; RL, live shows make me uncomfortable.

reading or writing i do both but i only write fanfic.

dogs or cats i like both, i would have neither.

poetry or novels poetry just leaves me cold. i know, i know, how dare i.

monsters or ghosts why choose?? (shaniac though)

thrift shops or libraries: i like browsing through thrift shops, and i’ve lost my voracious Real Grownup Book reading obsession that i had in my younger years. i like looking at silly mugs and cute objects and sometimes i’ll buy something, and Do Good at the same time when they’re charity shops!

fiction or non-fiction both, although these days fiction is mostly fic.

#tagged #tagging game #tagging thing

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nakonaniko · 4 years

Text

The Glitter; A NoMin Smut. +2k Words. Warning: The following work contains mature content.

The boys had just finished filming the first episode of ‘Riding Battle’ and were sitting around a plastic table munching on some snacks to ease their hunger. Loud howling came from the boys as a sulky Jaemin stepped out of the toilet witch an itchy eye. Without saying any words, he plopped down onto a plastic chair and shoved some chips into his mouth as he scrolled through social media using his secret accounts. Jeno, a little scared of Jaemin’s frustrated state, turned to him and attempted to touch the lower lid of his swollen eye. Haechan and Jeno had taken their fun a little bit too far this time and Jaemin was certainly not happy about it. Jeno was busy analyzing the faint redness of his eye when Jaemin spoke up.

“You know you’re fucking lucky that I love you or else I would’ve snapped your neck in half the moment you touched that glitter bottle.”

And with that Jeno knew that things weren’t as bad as he thought they had been. He gave out a sigh of comfort that he didn’t know he had been holding in for a while and careful of the several pairs of watchful eyes around them, pressed a feather kiss on Jaemin’s half closed eye. Not long passed until it was time for the boys to pack up and go back to the dorms. The Hyundai van that SM had prepared for their transportation was big enough to house all of them and so they all settled in their seats comfortably. The manager informed the members of the rather long distance that they had to pave and told them to rest if they felt the need to. The boys laid back their seats and soon Chenle and Jisung fell asleep, leaving the rest in their tired and drowsy states. Once in a while the sound of Renjun’s rather loud whines and grunts followed by Heachan’s clingy attempts to cuddle him was heard, but aside from that all was sound and peaceful. Jaemin was sitting in the back row, where there were more than one seat available and had laid his forehead on the glass of the window, staring out at the orange and red of the sunset. Jeno caught sight of his silent boyfriend and couldn’t help but think that he had something to do with Jeamin’s unusual lack of energy. Usually Jeno (and all of them) had to beg a noisy Jaemin to stop teasing them so much and let them be for a while but today, that was not the case and Jeno couldn’t bear this situation at all. Looking around, Jeno found almost everyone asleep or busy doing something on their phones. He then slowly got up and walked over to where a not-yet-asleep Jaemin was sitting. His heartbeat was oddly high for someone who had barely done anything and when he finally sat down next to Jaemin and brushed his bangs out of his forehead slowly, he was sure that any ignorance from his boyfriend’s part would break his heart deeply. Jeno was fortunate for Jaemin raised his head instantly and hummed faintly before burying his face inside his neck. Jeno wasted no time and expressed his affection by placing multiple kisses on the top of his head, making sure to embrace him as close as possible. Jaemin sighed a sigh that Jeno usually would hear in more private circumstances, in bed to be exact. His breathing hitched as he felt the wetness of Jaemin’s soft and warm tongue on his exposed collarbones. Jaemin was teasing, which was not new, and it felt great, but Jeno had other things to worry about for now.

“Baby? Have you been ok? Do you feel sick? It’s that bastard Renjun’s punch in your chest, isn’t it? Come on let me take a look –“

Jaemin interrupted him halfway:

“Jeno-ya I’m fine, I’m just tired and a bit … maybe a bit frustrated.”

Jeno’s brows furrowed in confusion and deep thought.

“Frustrated? Frustrated how? Is this about that dumb online game that Chenle and Jisung keep pushing you to play so they can gain more lives? I swear to God I’m about to end –“

Jeamin was very well familiar with this habit of Jeno. He tended to be super protective and sensitive when it came to his comfort and he wouldn’t shut up unless a lid was put over his pretty mouth. Jaemin masterfully managed the situation by grabbing the collars of his leather jacket and covering his lips with his own pair. It took Jeno less than a second to fall prey to Jaemin’s sudden attention and soon he was kissing Jaemin back. What surprised him was the force with which Jaemin kissed, he was pushing himself forward as if attempting to straddle his waist there and then in a van full of people. Jeno broke the kiss momentarily and shook his head a little just to get some sense back in that head. Jaemin chuckled at his boyfriend’s fucked out state and punching his chest lightly added:

“I’m frustrated since you know … it’s been a while.”

Jeno was in no state to realize what Jeamin was trying to say and so he just shook his head cutely as a way of asking for more clarification. Jaemin sighed and looked at him straight in the eyes this time.

“It’s been a while since you’ve last dicked me down hard and nice. Here, happy now?”

‘Wow that was a piece of information I could not possibly handle right now’ thought Jeno. He gulped and ran both of his hands through his perfectly styled hair, sighing in the process.

“Is that why you’ve been extra salty for these past few days?”

Jeamin only nodded, with his bottom lip sucked in between his teeth, giving Jeno full on puppy eyes.

Jeno reached out and rather harshly took his bottom lip out.

“Don’t fucking tease me like that unless you’re willing to limp for a week.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes in response, which only infuriated Jeno more. The ride came to an end and the boys were finally in the comfort of their baggy clothes and cozy dorm atmosphere. Chenle and Jisung took turns on their shower stall as the rest of the boys were busy wiping the makeup off their faces. A loud Heachan startled Jeno as he ran into his room to show him something.

“Look what I’ve got! With this amount I’m sure we can tease Jaemin for a whole month!”

He said, waving the bottle of glitter that they had used earlier to paint Jaemin’s under eye. Jeno was about to snatch the bottle and punch Haechan in inappropriate places when a comfortably clothed Jaemin passed by the door. It took him a few seconds to come back into the door frame. He chuckled lowly and took the bottle out of Heachan’s hand.

“Haha. Veeeery funny you guys. Now fuck off before I smack you both.”

Jeamin waited for no other response and headed back to his shared room with Jisung. After a quick shower and a bowl of ramen it was time for him to do something until he’d eventually fall asleep. Wasting time on social media was the first option. He checked the profiles of all of the other members and soon grew bored. Jisung had long fallen asleep and that meant no bickering and teasing him. Letting out a sigh, he stood up and walked out to the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water. There in the living room sat an energetic Haechan playing games on the TV, surrounded by the asleep figures of Chenle and Renjun. That left Jeno alone in his room. Jaemin walked towards his lighted room and found him shirtless in front of the full length mirror, drying up his hair with a blow dryer. He stood there for a while, just taking in the graceful flexing and unflexing of his boyfriend’s back muscles as he did the most simple things, like drying his hair and putting on body lotion. Finally he plucked up the courage and walked over to an oblivious Jeno, put his hands on his wide shoulders and pressed a chaste kiss to where his shoulder blades met below the back of his neck. Jaemin waited for no other response and walked back to his bedroom.

He sat down on his bed and covered his face with both of his hands. He had been extra touchy for the last few days, the comeback schedules for ‘Ridin’ had totally drained all of his energy and that meant he had little to zero opportunities to spent some quality time with his boyfriend who was as equally busy. He eventually realized that tonight was the night. After all Jeno had the room all by himself tonight and they could take advantage of that, unless they wanted to wait for a while and then book a hotel room for a few hours just to fuck each other mercilessly. He couldn’t take it anymore and judging by the reactions that he received from Jeno back in the van, Jaemin was sure that he was on the same page. He walked out the door and made sure to take the glitter bottle with him. What Jeno likes, Jeno gets.

When he opened the door to Jeno’s bedroom the lights were already off, only the faint moonlight shone through the window and lighted up Jeno’s bare torso. Jaemin was not in the mood for extra teasing and so he locked the door and began taking his clothes off one after the other. Jeno’s steady breathing was a sign that he had been asleep for some time, and Jaemin had zero plans to be careful tonight. He boldly opened the glitter bottle and rubbed some on his collarbones and chest, making sure not to put any on the nipples since Jeno would certainly not like the idea of glitter on his tongue. Jaemin added the last touches by putting some around and under his eyes, since that was what sparked Jeno’s attention in the first place. He carefully lidded the bottle back and put it on Jeno’s bedside table. It was time for action now. Jeno was a lousy sleeper and so he never had his covers on, that was a bonus for Jaemin as he easily began straddling Jeno’s naked waist.

He took a hold of his rock hard cock and led the tip of it inside the little hole of Jeno’s bellybutton, wetting the small area with his pre-cum. Running his hands up and down Jeno’s chest, he laid his palms on his shoulders and continued humping his skin shamelessly. Jeno’s eyes fluttered open to probably the most sinful image that he could’ve ever seen. There Jeamin was, face blushed and lips parted, moaning his name under his breath like a prayer, his chest and closed eyes glistened with the most beautiful glow as moonlight illuminated his delicate body. His mind was still attempting to register to the sight in front of him, but his body reacted faster. He grabbed Jeamin’s petite hips and helped him hump his belly faster. In less than three minutes Jaemin came hard in hot spurts of thick cum on Jeno’s chest and chin.

“Jeno-ya …”

That was all he had to say before Jeno ran a finger in his hot cum and led it onto his lips, an action to which Jaemin gladly opened his mouth. He licked and sucked his finger masterfully and pushed himself forward to catch Jeno’s lips in the most animalistic French kiss. Jaemin was too far gone to care for foreplay and while kissing proceeded to take Jeno’s half hardened cock and sat on it carefully. Jeno’s breathing faltered.

“Baby … baby … ugh .. I need to .. I need to stretch you first … ah fuck ..”

The feeling was nothing like any other sex that they had experienced. Jaemin could feel Jeno’s cock rising to its full length inside his hole and Jeno felt like he was unlocking new spots inside of him. Jaemin’s confidence in riding his boyfriend died down a bit as he grew tired of the uncomfortable situation.

“Turn me … turn me around .. my leg ..”

Jeno got the sign immediately and still inside him, turned them around so that Jaemin was now caged within his embrace. This was Jeno’s position. Whenever they were in bed like this, Jeno would turn into a merciless animal and fuck Jaemin senseless. And it was about to begin.

“You thought that it was fucking ok to tease me like that in front of the others back in the van huh? Was it fucking funny?”

Jeno’s harsh words were followed by a brutal slap to Jaemin’s left ass cheek.

“Hmmm …”

Jaemin wasn’t one to give up easily and Jeno was very well aware of that.

“Begging to get fucked like the dirty little cock slut that you are … how shameless.”

The second slap was accompanied with a sudden thrust forward and that almost sent Jaemin over the edge.

“You’re so good … you fuck me so good … ugh ..”

Jeno bent his legs and lifted knees up to his chest as he kept his brutal thrusting rhythm. Jaemin’s neglected cock shook from side to side as Jeno pushed him deeper into the mattress with every thrust.

“tou .. touch yourself for me … stroke your cock ..”

Jaemin fisted his red and swollen cock and started fucking his fist in an ungodly speed. The sweat mixed with the glitter on his pale body accompanied by the lewd sounds and sinful words that exited his mouth sent Jeno over the edge. He quickly pulled out of Jaemin’s abused hole and led the tip of his red cock to Jeamin’s mouth, he immediately stuck his tongue out and that was where Jeno lost it completely. He came in heavy spurts on Jaemin’s tongue and chin as Jaemin himself came in his hand and painted his Jeno’s torso a dirty shade of white. Before he could swallow Jeno’s load, Jeamin pushed himself forward and captured Jeno’s lips in yet another animalistic lip lock. Jeno’s cum along with a mixture of their saliva dripped off their chins and onto where Jaemin’s freshly released cum laid on his belly. Breaking the kiss, Jeno dipped two fingers in the unbelievably dirty mixture and stuck them in his mouth as far as they would go, gagging in the process. Jeamin hissed through his teeth.

“Fuck baby that’s so hot … Jesus ..”

Jeno then pulled out slowly, trying not to hurt Jaemin’s sensitive body, which proved to have been unsuccessful.

“Ugh … fuck that hurts ..”

Jaemin smacked Jeno’s chest playfully and in response received his wholesome boyish smile.

The pair laid alongside each other and stared at the ceiling for a while, until Jeamin spoke up.

“So that glitter huh? Wonder if you have other interests that include whips and chains.”

Jeno chuckled and bit his shoulder playfully.

“I guess we’ll see. Till then let’s just clean up before they come for us. This place smells like ass.”

Jaemin rolled his eyes and rolled onto him, making sure that their softening cocks touch in the process.

“Hmmm … well I guess cleaning can wait.”

It was going to be one hell of a night.

#jaemin scenarios #jaeminsmut #Jenosmut #nctdreamsmut #nomin #nominsmut

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real-jaune-isms · 4 years

Text

RWBY Volume 8 Chapter 4 Review/Remix

A pretty good episode this time, and only 30% pain and despair so things are looking up! But when it goes mean it goes real strong with the mean. Lots to think about here, and boy oh boy do I wonder what we’ll see next week!

For a nice touch of levity, we open on Robyn telling a funny story about a time Joanna lost a fight to try and pass the time. Maybe she’s trying to cheer Qrow up too, but as someone who gets very bored at work pretty often I get the appeal of talking just to keep sane. She sees Qrow is too lost in his brooding about Clover’s pin to listen to the story, and Jacques is too busy fussing over a fly buzzing around his head (the Pence jokes write themselves). Tough crowd indeed, though her joke about Ironwood needing to pay for cell block entertainment does get a smile and a chuckle from the sad old bird. She takes this chance to apologize, possibly again and we’re just seeing this conversation now, for what happened with Clover. Many would argue it is really her fault for getting trigger happy back in the airship when Qrow was the one under arrest, but that’s an argument not worth having because the blame soup was being stirred by way too many cooks to make a clear verdict. Qrow, however, blames himself for deciding to team up with Tyrian, which was certainly a bad move. It was a heat of the moment thing, and he makes it clear he really would have preferred working with Clover to re-detain Tyrian again, but Clover just wouldn’t let up on his arrest orders. The real pain though, he admits, is that he had really started to let his guard down around this guy and thought her could actually make a partnership work again without his Semblance tossing 1,000 monkey wrenches into the mix. Feels like a fairy tale dream, vanishing like a rose petal on the wind, like every other friend. I of course added the part about rose petals, because you know he meant Summer and the unity of STRQ she probably represents in his mind. Robyn knows a thing or two about having a Semblance that impairs your relationships. Not many people like being around someone they can’t keep anything private from, and she can call out and mistruthing with a touch of the hand. Qrow has to admit he hadn’t considered someone else having that kind of personal trouble like he does, but their conversation is ended by Harriet coming in to toss Watts back in his cell. She’s pissy at Qrow and says he shouldn’t have Clover’s pin, but he retorts he has no reason not to have it since he’s not Clover’s killer. She still has a hard time believing that since Harbinger was the murder weapon, but Robyn finally raises a very good point. Miss Hill is a literal walking polygraph and all they would need to do to prove Qrow’s innocence is let her out of her cell and take her hand. But they won’t do that because they don’t want to prove what’s really true here, they want to cling to a convenient story so they don’t have to admit what really happened. Cuz if they put those glasses back on and face the facts, that means reevaluating what side their on if Clover died because he refused to help detain a serial killer before arresting a former colleague and that’s the real problem. Hare had already threatened that if she was gonna open the cell she wouldn’t use her hands for a friendly shake, and the dig at her allegiances and her ignorance towards Ironwood’s sins almost riles her up to the point of taking Robyn’s bait. But Marrow calls her back down to sensibility and she leaves in a huff. Robyn lays back and sighs at how there was almost something exciting happening.

Cutting to an actually exciting scene, Yang Jaune and Ren are outside the city chasing the Hound through a mountainous canyon on their bikes. It can fly while they have to navigate the rocks, and their bikes aren’t handling the cold terribly well. Yang laments that none of them can fly, but that inspires Jaune to pull out his shield and get closer to Ren. He’s gonna get his teammate up there, and Ren immediately understands how. Leaping off his bike and onto Jaune’s shield, he’s launched through the air by the burst of Gravity Dust in the crest and uses his grapple line blade to wrap around the Hound’s leg... and get dragged through the air like Curious George at the end of a bunch of balloons. Still, he’s weighing it down some and can climb up the line to get in close... when he’s not getting swung around against the cliffside. To further slow it down, he shoots his other line around a big rock that gets dragged behind them for about 5 seconds before the Hound flies higher up and the line comes loose. Ren gets knocked around even more while Yang finds an inclined path that gives her enough height to start shooting at the Grimm. It handles this fairly well, by dropping Oscar from its mouth into its hands and flying ahead of her with a loud roar. Apparently one of its Grimm for all Seasons abilities is to call for backup, because dozens of Centinels suddenly burrow up out of the rocks and ground around them and several Teryx swoop in above. Navigating becomes that much more difficult for the blondes, especially when one Centinel spits acid and hits the thruster of Jaune’s bike. He thinks fast and leaps off his bike to launch off another Grimm in front of him and flip onto a rocky overpass where he almost loses his balance and falls back down. Luckily Yang instead zooms by and pulls him onto her bike where they continue their pursuit. She does a great job of bobbing and weaving around the insects, but a Teryx lands in their path. Jaune tosses his shield grenade in front of a large rock and they drive onto it to tilt it into a ramp, launching over the avian foe into a spin between two more big bugs. They bump on a rock, but the Grimm cannot touch them with Yang’s driving. Unfortunately, they have a far more dangerous problem: They’re heading towards the edge of a massive cliff. Yang tries to make a quick turn but instead flips the bike over and launches both of them off to go tumbling off the precipice. Jaune tries to plant his sword in the ground as an anchor, but he doesn’t keep hold of it with their momentum and they both fall with a very believable scream. Big props to Miles and Barbara for this and the dramatic performances soon to come. Ren comes swooping in for a massive save and grapples Jaune’s sword with one weapon and the poor guy’s leg with the other. Jaune grabbed Yang by the hand so she’s fine too, but an incoming Teryx might soon negate it all. Luckily, Ren instead negates all their emotions with his Semblance and the Teryx passes them by. Less lucky, Ren being here means he’s not hanging from the Hound. He let it get away with Oscar to save his friends, and you know he’s kicking himself for it.

Shifting scenes from that tense gloom, we see Weiss decided the safest place to take Nora for the time being is her own damn mansion. Whitley answers the door and is about to try and berate Weiss for this but she is having none of it. She holds him at swordpoint and insists that they are coming inside. Whitley is very against the idea of harboring fugitives after the hit the Schnee family’s reputation has taken in the wake of its patriarch’s arrest for war crimes, and Blake is quite frustrated that this is what he chooses to complain about. The staff is all gone, Willow has retreated to her room and assumable to the bottle, you gotta admit Whitley probably feels more alone now than ever and is... coping in less than ideal ways. Weiss still seemingly carries a chip on her shoulder of wanting to prove that she is doing something actually important and she made the right move by leaving home to be a Huntress, so she insists that Whitley has no right to nag them because they are saving the Kingdom here. At least, that’s what my 2 semesters of psychology classes would tell me. Ruby plays intermediary between the Schneeblings and lays down their very minimal terms. Let them stay here a little while so Nora can rest and recover, and then they will leave him to his sulking and riches. Whitley begrudgingly accepts and asks what he has to do, and Weiss seems to relish this chance to tell him to go to his room. Finally flexing her big sister authority without Papa around to veto her in favor of his adoring son. But like Willow said last Volume, Whitley has been stuck in this house just like Weiss and Winter, and they could certainly try to treat him with a bit more fairness and sympathy. I’m sure it hurt him a little inside to have yet another authority figure bossing him around without a care for his desires. Still, he’s not giving much reason to make us sympathize so I say wait a little bit to see if he’s got any softer moments to come. Weiss directs May on where to carry Nora, and Blake checks on Ruby while they have this quieter moment. Possibly because she wants the chance to talk to her too, Blake suggests Ruby should try calling Yang to make sure things are okay, both between the sisters and in general. But that’s just it. She did it 35 minutes ago. Okay not really, but I wanted to toss a Watchmen joke in. Still, as much as Ruby worries how that half of the team is doing, she’s already trying to call them and it’s not going through.

We fade back to our three battered teens as Yang collects what scattered pieces she can from her bike, the only one they still have. But like I said, it crashed into a rock after they tumbled off and it’s in no condition to run anymore. So Jaune is trying to call for help and transport back to Mantle, but either Ironwood shut down all communication in the lower districts or they’re just so far out in the tundra that a signal just won’t reach. The latter would make sense, and explain why Ruby couldn’t reach Yang. Giving up on the call, the three instead trudge through the snow in the light of the setting sun back more or less the way they came. Jaune is dragging the bike along while Ren leads the way to an outpost he saw while getting dragged by the Hound. Yang notes how low their auras have been drained due to protecting them from the cold this long, and like a kid on a car trip asks how much longer it will be. Ren has no immediate answer so she asks again and he gives a snippy “I don’t know”. She can tell there’s something more bugging him and tries to coax it out of him after sensing the hostility in his explanation that he only got a glimpse of their intended destination before he had to abandon Oscar in favor of saving them. He refuses to discuss his deeper feelings because he thinks it’ll just waste time. This riles Yang up and she demands to know what his deal is, to which he insists she not worry about it. The argument keeps escalating from there. Things aren’t going smoothly enough for Ren? No, they’re not going smoothly at all, but boohoo Ren, that’s part of the job as a Huntsman. He doesn’t think it’s a job they should have at all, they weren’t ready for it or to make the incredibly damming decisions they’ve had to since taking that position. Sure, they had a few lucky breaks and near miss successes, but then they entered this losing streak that they can’t seem to recover from because the losses are too drastic and every choice they’ve made has been the wrong one. Yang refuses to accept such pessimism and insists that even if they haven’t done everything perfectly they still had to do something because inaction would have made things worse. But how could they be worse than they are now, Ren demands to know as they freeze to death out here. Salem has the Lamp and Oscar, and they have nothing but the cold winds. They may not have an army but they have the Maiden, Yang tries to counter, but because they haven’t let her to open the vault for Ironwood all of Atlas is just a buffet waiting to be chowed down on and it will all be their fault when that happens. Yang rightfully asks him if he seriously thinks letting Ironwood try and float Atlas away to safety will work out for him or for the people of Mantle he’s abandoning, but he argues that they shouldn’t even be the ones asked to make that call. He’s trying to spit the hard truths no one else wanted to face, but this is way too harsh and mean, especially for Ren. What are these hard truths, you ask? That Ruby is still too young to be a leader, that he himself is an orphan from a town that doesn’t exist anymore (which I guess shows how unimportant he is for someone thrust into this decision making role), and that Jaune, who by the way has been trying in vain to get the two to cut the shit and quiet down this whole time, cheated his way into Beacon. A damn low blow there, bro. Bringing back the deep wound from Volume 1. And you can tell he regrets it immediately, but to say that would mean backing down from his point. Jaune doesn’t even address the personal callout and just says alright, you don’t think we should have the job, good for you. I’m still gonna keep walking and get out of the cold because like it or not we were given a goddamn job to do. Maybe not in those words, but the meaning was there. Ren and Yang silently let him take the lead, probably feeling the hot wash of shame distracting them from the arctic chill. Yang still takes one last dig at Ren though by asking if it’s his goal to push everyone away, implying he’s being an asshole and not even Nora is sticking by him. Well... in so many words anyway.

We get another change of scenery with a dramatic violin stroke like something out of a murder mystery movie. Oscar is regaining consciousness, and he hears Ozpin try to reassure him to stay calm and that it’s gonna be okay. When he looks up, however, he sees Salem leaning in a shadowy doorframe staring at a smoky apparition in her hand and welcoming back her long lost Ozma. Judging by the childlike laughter and general shape of her smoke display, I think she was manifesting a memory of her and Oz’s dead daughters to try and reminisce about the days when they were still lovers. Oscar realizes he’s being held in the air from the Hound’s mouth and tries to struggle free as Salem notes how young and weak this new vessel is. She’s not even acknowledging Oscar, just talking through him to Ozma. It’s been what may have truly been centuries or even a millennium since they’ve last met, and dear Oz has nothing to say to his wife? Oscar does his best Ozpin impression to try and fake it till he makes it, but Salem knows her man better than anyone and sees through it to grab him by the face and call his bluff. But he really is still a separate person from Oz, so maybe he can be more cooperative to her requests than that old wizard. She still wants to know where the Relic of Choice is, since Oz clearly must have used an extra layer of deception to hide it opposed to the others, and she wants Oscar to reveal the trick. But that’s not a memory he has access to, and he tells her plainly that he doesn’t know. She believes him, knows Oz would hold that one close to the chest longest of all, so she asks an easier question. How does she go about asking the Lamp questions? She gets the standard coverup answer, the Lamp is out of questions so it’s futile to even try, but she refuses to believe that one. Instead she blasts the poor kid with an evil magic rainbow laser and lets him scream himself hoarse for a bit. His chest has scorch marks, or at least his clothes do, and he fearfully tries to pull away from her “loving” touch. Lying so easily about these things, he truly was reincarnated into a like-minded soul... but sooner or later one of the two in this battered body will break and Salem will learn what she wishes to know. He tries to insist he won’t tell her anything, but that’s why she has backup. Hazel comes in to literally gut punch this 14 year old until he coughs up his guts or the truth, whichever comes first. And he justifies it all by saying this is revenge for his defeat at Haven and from the still unforgiven death of his sister.

Salem doesn’t stay to watch the savage beating, instead walking the halls of Monstra with her lovely new pet. Cinder has been waiting in this hallway for a chance to speak with her Mistress, but is distracted by her immediate discomfort in the face of the Hound. Salem claims it is an experiment that she is quite happy with the results of thus far, and wants Cinder to get on with whatever point she had so she can get out of the way. Cinder wants to search for Penny, she thinks she can make up for the past blunder and claim the Winter powers for herself. But Salem just laughs at this. “She thinks, she wants!” It’s like hearing a cockroach tell you about its hopes and dreams. Mommy Salami does not give a fuck what Cinder wants to do, she has done nothing to earn Salem caring about that. Cinder, to her credit, does not take this dismissal lying down and tries to argue that they are doing nothing to further their plans when Cinder could be achieving a great victory for her Mistress by securing their way into the Atlas vault. Salem does not slow her pace, and says when it is time to act she will tell Miss Fall what she needs her to do. Cinder tries to argue, and is met by the snarling maw of the Hound turning on its heels to send her shrinking back. Salem has been pretty damn patient with this bratty girl, but she will not repeat herself again. You are not going the the ball, Cinderella, you are staying here and doing what your godmother tells you to because if you don’t you will learn just how easily you can be replaced and forgotten. Cinder gives up her case and assumes the position of submission, which is to say taking a knee and repeating her self-depreciating mantra that without Salem she is nothing. This satisfies Salem and she walks away with her dog in tow, leaving Neo to glare at Cinder as if wondering who is really the domesticated little pet in this place.

Cut to Cinder immediately rebelling against her given orders and heading for the airship insisting she just wants to go check on something and then they’ll come right back before anyone knows they left. Neo just floats along behind her because like hell she’s staying in the Satan whale when it’s this bitch’s fault she’s here at all. We get the last unseen shot from the trailer as Cinder looks out over Atlas and rationalizes that Salem doesn’t know Team RWBY like she does, she wouldn’t understand how determined they would be to try and save the world, and so it falls to her to check out Amity Colosseum again and see if they’re up to something. Neo seems annoyed and disinterested at Cinder’s petty little scheme, but they’re both caught off guard by Emerald arriving behind them and offering to tag along to help. She’s been getting better with her Semblance and asserts that she would be very useful. Poor misguided lass, searching so desperately for acknowledgement and praise you’re never gonna get... Cinder seems pissed that she was eavesdropping, but she’s not gonna turn down the assist. Time for an evil girls’ night out~

Back on the ground, night has fallen as JRY have found the outpost at last. Jaune hits a heater to get it running and prevent their freezing to death as Ren broods out the window and Yang is outside working on her bike. The leader takes this time to address the tension with his teammate. Yes, he did make a bad decision and cheat his way into the Academy. But when he found himself in that bad situation he realized he needed help and he asked for it. He turned his situation around and got better, became the strong person he is now. Holding onto this ideal that being strong means doing everything on your own? That was literally the issue Jaune faced in his mini character arc back in Volume 1, and he came out of it humbled and ready to accept support from his team. From Pyrrha. But she’s not here anymore, and Jaune is. Nora is, team RWBY is here for Ren. So Ren needs to understand that he can let them in, because the more he hides from how he feels the worse it’s gonna feel and hurt him inside. Ren goes outside to sulk under a streetlight, but Yang has come inside now to say that she’s found the part she needs to fix the bike so with a little more tinkering they can get it working and ride back into the city once they’ve got some R&R. Yang does take the time to say she’s sorry Ren said what he did because of her argument with him, but Jaune dismisses it for the time being as all three of them being under a hellish amount of stress. He’s been where Ren was before, he knows how much it hurts. Yang turns back to the tool bench to work on the thruster, but she’s got some inner turmoil of her own to vent about. She wants to know if Jaune thinks “She” thinks less of Yang for making the choice she did and staying to help Mantle instead of going to help fix Amity. Playing the pronoun game like this can be tricky, and Jaune fairly assumes she means Ruby since the two of them did have the verbal disagreement before splitting off, and Yang did question her leader’s decision making and leadership. He assures Yang that her sister will always love and believe in her even if they have squabbles like this. But it would seem Vomit Boy lost the pronoun game, and Yang was not actually asking about Ruby. Judging by the purple cannister she’s wrenching into the battered thruster, she was asking if Blake would think less of her because of these recent actions.

A lot of people seem rather torn about this choice in priorities for Yang, but allow me to explain why I think it’s not that bad of a writing decision. If there is one thing that has been consistent in this Volume it has been the confidence of other characters that Yang and Ruby will endure this clash of ideals and remain loving sisters. Usually these sentiments have been given by characters who are siblings themselves and know the strength of that bond, like Weiss and now Jaune. We’ve never actually heard either sister personally express any anguish or regrets over that argument, but we can assume they’re both still a little sour about it. But they have been there for each other to a depth that few siblings have, as evident by Yang’s story in Volume 2 about how she had to step up in raising Ruby in a lot of ways after Tai went into grieving for Summer. They’ve been each other’s best friend and closest confidant for so long, I truly believe their bond is clad in iron and they know it too. Meanwhile, a lot of Yang’s recovery arc in Volumes 4 and 5 was dealing with being abandoned by Blake in a time of need and it continued into 6 as learning to accept her back into her life and find a way to make their partnership work again. Shipping or not, they do have a strong bond that has been renewed by dealing with their combined trauma and killing Adam. And when that happened they both promised they would stick together and back each other up, but now Yang has been the one to decide she wants to split paths and do something else. She has good reason to worry this might have upset Blake, and we the audience know Blake is worried about how she’s doing. So, when faced with a color that reminds her of her partner, it makes some sense that Yang would try and get an outside perspective of if she’s fractured their bond. And if you ship them, that more magnifies the interpersonal concerns than really changes the problems.

Regardless, Jaune realizes this is a problem he’s not quite equipped to deal with and decides he’s going to get some rest in one of the beds in the outpost. He gets the strong feeling he’s gonna need it cuz it feels like things will only get worse before they get any better. As we pan out past Ren, whom Yang promises she won’t let brood himself to death out in the snow, we see cracks start to form out on the ice. That can only bode poorly for these poor kids. Many folks think this is a frozen over lake with some scary aquatic Grimm waiting in the depths like a megalodon Grimm shark or the sulfur fish Grimm that apparently were the winners of a fan design contest this past year. Personally, I’m taking a note from the opening and saying it might be a cloister of Apathy since their gross grabby hands wrapped around Team RWBY when they fell through the ice at the end of the intro. But we will have to wait and see. Thanks for reading, hope to see you and your notes soon!~

Edit: this came out a week late and we did indeed see what it really was. Boy were we not ready for the truth...

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prince-toffee · 4 years

Text

They Come From The Stars

Bow locked the doors behind Glimmer and her guest. He remained outside. This was Queen business, Glimmer could handle it, it was her duty to handle it. She even said herself for him to go back to the party, enjoy the Princess Prom. But the King of BrightMoon, decided to stay next to the door leading into Glimmer’s private study, as he noticed the guest’s plus one didn’t leave either.

Inside, Glimmer felt slightly uncomfortable, she knew something was off, especially because of this urgent and unscheduled visit. Glimmer became silent, creeped quietly around her own study as if it wasn’t hers. Meanwhile, Leviathan made herself quite welcome. As if she owned the place.

The Baroness of Dryl, practically pranced around the room, took a liking to the bottle of alcohol on the table in the middle, Glimmer’s mom’s old work desk, infact this was her study once, hell this castle, this kingdom was all Angella’s. Glimmer tried to grow into it, but it all seemed to be too big, too grand. Leviathan, however, looked like she fit into it perfectly. She poured herself a glass of the alcohol and took a quick pulp of it.

“Glass?”

The Clone Etherian woman asked gesturing with the bottle, again, as if she owned the place, as if she had a right to do, what she was doing. This was it, the feeling of something being off, Leviathan was switching the roles, asserting dominance in the room. She was having a strategic thought process to this. This was highly unlike her, well, from what Glimmer knew. The woman usually bounced into an Alliance meeting and laughed through it, with that nasal voice like her mother. People liked that about her, the silliness, the cuteness. The Princesses didn’t see her often, she spent most of her time back in Dryl. But when they did see her, she was never anything outlandish. It was Entrapta’s daughter alright.

“No thank you.”

Glimmer replied, not wanting to get too drunk at the party, like Adora and Catra, there were kids here. But she realised the Drylian woman poured her the drink already, before she even responded.

Leviathan handed her the glass of the golden liquid. Glimmer plastered a fake smile on her face and thanked her, taking the glass, but not drinking it. Her guest turned around and skipped to the fireplace, looking over all the mantle pieces. Taking another sip of the drink and then giving it a big ‘ahh’ as she reached for a breath after the sip. She gave off some little giggles, here and there, with some ‘ooo’s and ‘ahh’s as if she was seeing regular everyday objects for the first time.

“That’s the stuff! Moon-Ra! Drink of the Goddess! Good stuff. You know, my mom did always say that a good time was the key to good health. Cheers.”

That didn’t sound like Entrapta, did it? She had to admit she didn’t know Entrapta very well, no one real did.

Glimmer felt like she knew what all this was about. No one sees her for years at a time. She only crawls out of her Drylian rock if planetary gatherings are enacted, discussing the safety of the planet, or if she needs something. Never responds to any other emergencies. Not if it doesn’t involve Dryl. Glimmer swore she could have filled a library with messages from Dryl going something like this: ‘Oh sorry, must’ve forgot’ or ‘Slipped my mind upsidaisy’.

But Glimmer saw Leviathan last week, in a regular meeting, which had nothing to do with Dryl, well, not until she made it about Dryl. At the end of the gathering, she pulled Glimmer to the side to discuss a matter alone, one on one. Something she didn’t want to involve the rest of the Princesses, since otherwise she would’ve brought it up earlier during the actual meeting.

That’s when the feeling of something being off began, Glimmer never talked to her one on one, only seen her from a distance. But close up she seemed... more aggressive?... irritated?... just strange. Her smiles faded in and out during their conversation that week, like it was hard to keep them up. The short bursts of giggles and chuckles stopped being cute and turned to... frustration?

Anyway, she asked about some import license, for the transportation of a package from Beast Island to Dryl through the Salineas ports. Glimmer denied her. And she assumed this was why she was here.

“God, all this stuff’s soooooo pretty, including all the paintings, you don’t seem like the type to keep paintings. Are they your mom’s? Keeping the room exactly the same, huh? Hoping that mom ‘ll come back, if I just pretend nothing’s changed... Hmm. The magic thinking of orphan girls. That is a silly thought, but you know wh-”

“I’m denying you the import licence. It’s not happening.”

Glimmer cut her off, she put her foot down. She was fighting to take back the dominance in the room. This was her castle and she was the Queen. Some backwater Princess wasn’t going to stomp her. She dealt with greater foes. But... maybe not.

The second Glimmer finished her statement, the harsh answer hit the Baroness of Dryl. The shift Glimmer witnessed, was unreal. Like another person came out of nowhere. Leviathan’s ear to ear silly smile, disappeared. The Clone Etherian turned away from her Majesty and centralised her sight on the glass of liquid she was swirling. Then a smile remerged. But it wasn’t the same one. It was sharper, showing off her canines, darker, like the smile itself was disgusted to be there, her eyes not wide and large, but narrow and irritated, tired. The games were over, Glimmer knew that much.

“Why- Why would you- Do. That.”

Leviathan firmly placed the glass on the table, the liquid spilling out slightly. The prancing and bounce, gone. She placed her arms behind her back and began to march forward, slowly to Glimmer. She already had red eyes, but something in them seemed bloodier. The Baroness stopped right infront of the Princess, a whole head taller than Glimmer, maybe two. She looked down on her. Leviathan combed back her purple hair behind her ear, revealing her two right eyes. This felt too familiar for Glimmer.

“So there’s no convincing you?... Shame... Hey. You don’t think mom and dad would’ve mind if I changed just one thing, do you? Just one little thing.”

Glimmer swallowed, remained silent, never braking eye contact.

“Because, back home. In the Sanctum - that’s where they used to work all night - there’s this painting. Gorgeous one. Beautiful. And dad had it hung up over his work table.”

Glimmer considered the violent option. A light blast from a fist and she’d surely be down. She was half defect after all, she couldn’t have been that tough. There was no threat. She was a Queen, this was her castle, she could handle this.

“But that specific painting was different from all the other ones at home. Dad kept and cherished all the paintings mom painted for him. You know, cats, robots, silly stuff. But this one was different. He kept it for decades, a gift from King Niro of Scorpion Hill. The painting was simple, angels heroically flying down from the skies to met mid-way with the demons coming up from hell below.”

The doors to the room opened up, Glimmer looked to the side, it was Bow. With Leviathan’s plus one, the Queen didn’t recognise her from anywhere. Bow said they had to make the toast now, it was a BrightMoon tradition.

“I believe you can see yourself out.”

Glimmer asked.

“...But they wouldn’t mind. They’d appreciate it. If I flipped that painting upside down. Because we know the truth now, don’t we, angel?... Demons don’t come from hell beneath us...”

Leviathan made her way out of the room. Stopped at the edge of the door frame and finished with a warm ear to ear smile.

“They come from the stars.”

#leviathan #entrapdak #entrapdak fankid #hordak #entrapta #villain #glimmer #bow #sweetened toffee #my writing

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