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unoriginalmess · 4 years ago

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A Second Mask: Chapter 4

Did that just happen?

Hello guys! It's me. I'm finally writing again. Sorry about the delay. I'm going to explain more at the end of the chapter, but I'm just going to keep the beginning short. So here is chapter 4:

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To say Adrien was concerned would be a huge understatement. He was downright disturbed. Its been weeks and still Marinette hadn't changed back to the happy, peppy, nice girl that he knew. AND SHE WOULDN'T EVEN TALK TO HIM ABOUT IT!

He tried to talk to her for a whole week after her original trasformation, but after the repeated firm rejections, he stopped altogether. He figured that maybe with some space, she might be able to work through whatever she was going through, but at this point, he's losing hope.

When he is feeling this distressed about something, he usually turns to his lady, but she has been acting weird too. Ever since she suggested they start sparring, she's started to show that she is going through kinda a rough time as well. She is the same ladybug when everyone is watching, but when it's just the two of them, she looks sad and tired. She has also started saying some concerning things while they are sparring. She has started talking about how she has started taking being Ladybug and the Guardian more seriously, and how she has less distractions now, which would be a good thing if she didn't say them so sadly.

The good thing is, the sparring has given him a chance to get out his aggression because of the whole Marinette-situation and his anger at his father in a safe environment. He didn't like the idea of hitting Ladybug at first (especially in the face) but with her not holding back on her hits, he felt more comfortable doing the same. It has helped them fight better too. He hopes that whatever Ladybug is going through in her civillian life will work itself out soon, but until then he will be there for her. He just needs to figure out how to be there for Marinette.

•••

Felix was making good progress with Marinette. After they first asked marinette about (insert fashion question of your choice here, I legit know nothing and I didn't have time to research anything for this chapter), she had started answering their questions on a daily basis. After a couple of days of that, she had started to rant to them about different things in the fashion world that were bothering her, exciting her, or confusing her that particular day. In response to that, they had started to respond to her rants with their own opinions on the subjects and even start their own rants.

It had gotten to the point where Felix would now consider them to be friends, though they know that Marinette would never call them as such, it was fine with them. They know she has trust issues, and they can understand why, so they are fine with being friends in everything but a name.

Felix was looking forward to their daily banter as they waited in their seat for Marinette to arrive. When she did, she was followed by a very pissed-looking Alya. Felix turned to look at her and noticed that she had what looked to be tears forming in her eyes. What they didn't notice was the little black butterfly that had entered through the window in the back of the room, and was making a beeline towards her.

•••

Marinette walked to school in yet another one of her newest fashion creations: a pair of oversized grey ripped jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt. She was actually really liking her new look, and the comfort that it offered was just an added plus.

She was actually feeling excited to talk to Felix about Gabriel Agreste's newest fashion flop. They were the only person that she had met that actually cared about fashion as much as her. It made her happy to talk to them. It kind of scared her how excited she was. Shouldn't she be distancing herself from everyone? she thought to herself. No. Felix isn't my friend, they aren't close to me, they are just someone I talk fashion with. Like a coworker, yeah. Totally. Felix is just a coworker. ("Liar" says the inner voice in her head)

She was shocked out of her thoughts when she was pulled to the side by someone as she entered the courtyard. Her mind immediately thought of an akuma, when the person spoke.

"Marinette! Girl," Oh it's just Alya. Wait Alya? "How long are you gonna keep up this cry for attention? Are you really THAT jealous of Lila? I know that Adrien likes her, but that doesn't give you the right to act like this! And you are hanging out with Felix, who accused her of sexually harrassing Adrien on their first day here-?" She looked absolutely furious at her, but Marinette had heard enough. She cut Alya off in the middle of her presumably long rant.

"ALYA!" Said girl jumped at both the inturruption and the tone of voice used, "First of all, this isn't a cry for attention, if anything its a cry for leaving me the fuck alone. Second of all, I'm not jealous of Lila. I'm not in love with Adrien anymore, and haven't been for a while. You knew that I was dating Luka right? Why would I care who Adrien likes? Lastly, I am allowed to hang out with whoever I choose, whether you like them or not. It's none of your fucking business Alya, and if you think that I'm just some jealous, attention-seeker why do you even care?" With that last question she stormed off to the classroom, leaving a speechless Alya behind her.

When marinette sat down in her seat, she just kept thinking about how Alya was just talking to her. How could she think that about her? They used to be best friends, and Alya wasn't even concerned about her not talking to her anymore, she was just concerned about her being "jealous of Lila". It made her so furious that she could feel tears trickling down her face. She sees the black butterfly out of the corner of her eye and without hesitation grabs it out of the air.

(Next part is taken from this post by @bigfatbreak)

"Go ahead and akumatize me- See what happens, Hawkmoth!" She screamed the words with a slight madness that the energy of the akuma was giving her, "Every leash has two ends! I just have to pull until I find where you're holding it!"

At this point, the entire class was frozen in place watching her and listening to her crazed-sounding voice threaten an actual terrorist. Marinette felt Hawkmoth's confusion and terror through the bond. What in the- She's sensing me through the Akuma?! The akuma then started to fly away, and when it couldn't it zapped her hand like it was made of lightning and fluttered through the same window it came from. Marinette felt like she had failed yet again and collapsed down on her desk, muttering, "Uuuuggghh. It escaped anyway... What a waste. I didn't realize that Hawkmoth was such a coward. He usually likes grandstand..."

She was startled when her hand was picked up by Felix's, "You likely scared him off by managing to locate him like that... A risky move, I should mention. I would ask that you not attempt that a second time. No one knows what his akuma is truly capable of. You'll want to keep off of this hand for a while, too."

"Oh, are those the doctor's orders? Why, Felix, it almost sounds like you care about meeee." Marinette was all too amused by Felix's concern for her. She also liked to tease them... AS COWORKERS DO.

"I have an investment in your presence. Now don't be cheeky and let's get you to the nurse's office," They said while holding her wrist and gently pulling her in that direction.

Marinette scoffed, "'An investment in my presence'??"

Felix chuckled while still semi-dragging her by the wrist towards the front of the room, being careful not to hurt her injury even worse, "What did I just say about being cheeky?"

On their way out of the door they passed a VERY distressed-looking Adrien. He seemed to be sharing the sentiment with the entire class of: Did that just happen?

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And thats chapter 4. It is VERY LATE! I know. I've been swamped with work, and when I went to write it, I had zero ideas on how to write this chapter. I never ended up getting those ideas. I just went where my writing took me, so if it doesn't really match the characters that's why. I will try to be better at updating regularly, but it probably won't happen. Sorry to everyone with a normal sleep schedule, but this is the time that I write things. Also I didn't have my outline with me while writing this chapter, so it might not have everything I planned to write in it.

I would like to thank you all for all of the support I've been getting on this fic. Despite all of the chapter delays, you guys have stuck with me through all of it, so thank each and every one of you. I love seeing so many people loving this au as much as I do. Without you guys this story wouldn't exist, and I would've stopped writing it after the first chapter.

As always, constructive criticism is always accepted. I love being able to improve my writing whenever possible.

Thank you for reading. Have a nice day/night/whenever you are reading this. See ya next time guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

Taglist

@queer-illusion @apasponsor @heckinggremlin @1-ahiro-1 @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @sassakitty @lennauts @rianoel @dorkus-minimus @khneltea @welp-that-was-unexpected @mlnchlymrshmllw @lovelyautumnsunflower @chariphrasis @lovesbooks @komatsuna-yuki @polyvirnl @innocentlyguiltyfrenchfry @qhobias @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @hammalammadamdam @cloudydaysomewhere @alcoholic-barney @basenikon @xxbehindthemaskxx @corporeal-terrestrial @shadowymemoirs @moonlight-densetsuu

#a second mask #feralnette #feralnette au #felinette #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #here it finally is #idk why some of the tags arent working

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scrollsfromarebornrealm · 3 years ago

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I’m still in the mood for word violence, so you know what? Nobody asked, but he’s been in my brain, so why the fuck not.

Zenos bingo

*inhale*

Alright. Fun fact about me. During Stormblood, I was a low-key Zenos fan. By the end, not so much. I know SE said they basically plan out the story cycle but this man got presented with so much fucking potential and GOT DONE DIRTY. I am of the firm fucking belief Yoshi-P went to Ishikawa-san and dropped this man on her desk and went ‘rehabilitate him’. Ishikawa-san looked at Zenos, looked at Yoshi-P, and went ‘I can’t rehabilitate him, but I can at least make him viable.’, and Yoshi-P said ‘Do it.’

So much potential! This man shows up in Rhalgr’s Reach and BEATS EVERYONE! INCLUDING US, THE WARRIOR OF LIGHT! We’re fresh off ensuring Gaius (presumably) has a nice dirt nap, ending the Dragonsong War, kicking Nidhogg’s ass, killing Asicans, annihilating primals, we’re the beloved hero of Eorzea, and look at what happens?! The severe psychological implications ALONE are most delicious fanfiction fodder! The political implications even more! This man was touted to be a fucking tactical genius, subjugated Doma, was up to his neck in unethical and fucked up experimentation, KICKS OUR ASS AGAIN A SECOND TIME, pretty much enables Fordola and had he been allowed to continue doing so we probably would have been given the most hyper-violent couple in FFXIV and the mayhem would have been glorious!

INSTEAD HE BASICALLY SITS ABOUT IN THE BACKGROUND FOR ALMOST THE ENTIRE DAMN GAME LIKE A FUCKING BOND VILLAIN (Bloefield to be more specific do not @ me I grew up watching James Bond I’ve seen every one with the exception of On Her Majesty’s Secret Service and I know the gist of that one). ALL HE NEEDED WAS A FUCKING CAT TO GO WITH THE SAMUARI SWORD GOLFBAG.

‘do you expect me to talk?! no, warrior of light, I expect you to die!’

*sigh*

I was disappointed. And it’s not just Zenos, it’s the entire Galvus family. I was personally looking forward to quite a bit of content (in game!) regarding them. Hell I wanted to personally beat the shit out of Varis! While he was still living! I wanted to kill the man personally but I had to settle for Cid’s crazed mind palace while unlocking Bozja!

And like so many characters in Stormblood, Zenos would have come off a lot better if they’d just released the background information IN THE GAME instead of well after the fact OUTSIDE it.

I admit my interest was stoked when it was revealed he could possess primals. (to the tune of Hear, Feel, Think... What. The. Fuck.), but then he just came off all creepy stalker and the moment was lost.

The body jumping...that was a surprise. Legit. And then once again he just decided to lurk in the background (which to be fair, he couldn’t really do anything else) during Shadowbringers. Elidibus is running around in his body, he’s outside of Illsabard, so he’s gotta hoof it the old fashioned way. I would have loved to have read something on that.

My interest got stoked again inbetween ShB and EW, but from a historical standpoint. ROME IS BURNING AND NERO FIDDLED AWAY WHILE IT DID (side note: Nero actually didn’t fiddle while Rome burned, he rolled up his sleeves and actually helped with the firefighting). Zenos came back, he reclaimed his body--but surprise, he’s got jack shit interest in the throne or in ruling! He just wants another throwdown with us!

(Enter Fandaniel. I agree with @autumnslance‘s take on him, he and Zenos worked well together.) It’s also at this point where okay, if Zenos is going to be the creepy stalker of the WoL, let him be the creepy stalker. It’s nice, simple and clean. Fandaniel’s surely the bigger problem. Right? Right? RIGHT?!

(may I present in exhibit A:)

FROM

THE

FUCKING

COLD

FINALLY THEY LET THIS MAN SHINE.

I screamed. I was hollering. I was begging ‘PLEASE DON’T HURT ANYONE PLEASE DON’T HURT ANYONE PLEASE DON’T HURT ANYONE OMGOMGOMGOMG’ And finally, I could put a lock on his character. One and half expansions later, I finally had something that put Zenos squarely in my villain list and invest me

And on that bombshell.

Side note: To the Zenos fans. Um...are ya’ll okay? Need anything? This is fandom we live and let live and don’t judge, do what brings joy but...I’ve seen some things, and just...um...

You know what? NVM.

#ffxiv #ffxiv bingo #zenos yae galvus #zenos viator galvus

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che33yblossom · 4 years ago

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Just a celebrity [knj X reader]

A/n: Hi, I know it’s been a while since my last post, I legit have no excuse except that it’s procrastination and that I had no ideas to go by, I still don’t, but I’m trying my best to write as much as I can now. I have a fanfic in the works that I have coming up and it’s hard to write each chapter without it being mostly filler and actually relevant to the story, you know? It’s actually something that’s been in the works for almost 4. Fucking. Years. and I’m just now writing most of the chapters I have planned. It’s somewhat of a short story too which I’m glad because I was really worried it would be too long and dragged out with said filler but what I do have is a character introduction to the characters. It’s not all of them but it’s at least something to begin the story so once it’s done, I can post it and show you guys what I’m working on. But anyways I’m getting sidetracked. This was originally supposed to be for an imagine but it became too long and I decided it should be its own story so enjoy.

Warnings: [TW // Mentions of forced strict diet, and starvation, Namjoon really wants to eat but can’t because of his company, description of being underweight. Fluff with bits of angst. Y/n is a cynical bitch to Namjoon in the beginning but warms up to him at the end of their first encounter. It’s a fluffy relationship at the end. If I’m missing any TW, please let me know.]

Word count: 1.8k

Your first interaction with Namjoon was during his concerts in Korea since you were studying abroad and your friend, whom you’ve met online and was the sole reason why you wanted to move here, told you about a K-pop group that had debuted a while ago and it’s safe to say that you...didn’t care too much for their music and you only went to their concert to support your friend who was quickly becoming a big fan of them. It’s a unique story, really, it’s not your simple story of a fangirl who goes to some concert and one of the members sees them in the audience and brings them backstage. No, this was completely different. You never had the desire about fantasizing idols when you were younger, now that’s not to say that you didn’t enjoy music because you did, hell, you even own band merch that you still proudly wear but you never found them to be attractive like most fans would and always saw them just as artists.

While Namjoon did spot you and your friend in the crowd, he didn’t tell some security guard so you could exchange phone numbers – it was by complete accident and fate one day when you were walking home from the grocery store to pick up some food for you and your friend until you heard someone bolting towards you, running away from something that seemed serious. Annoyed and a bit taken back by his actions at first, you glance behind you not expecting much but what you didn’t expect was the amount of crazed fangirls heading your way. Gasping as you saw the hurdle of fans, your feet were stuck planted on the ground, standing there frozen with fear as the young, violent fans inched closer and closer, pushing each other around like a bunch of wild animals, until you felt the warmth of someone’s hand, presumably the same guy from earlier.

“Come on, don’t just stand there like a crazy person! I know a place where we can get rid of them!” He sounded young, about your age, the young musician took your hand in his and dragged you with him.

And that’s how you became stuck with each other behind some gritty, old building, trash bins and garbage all over the bleak scenery, you and the young musician huddled up together in-between two dumpsters as the loud and obnoxious cheers of fans faded out into the air. Both sighing with relief, you look up at him unimpressed.

“I guess this is your everyday lifestyle?” You question the young star and he lets out a heavy sigh, still trying to catch his breath from running so fast. It probably didn’t help matters that he was also dragging you along with him.

“You haven’t seen the worst of it. I usually find these girls in my room.” He tells you nonchalantly, like he’s used to it at this point.

“Shouldn’t that be considered trespassing?”

“Yeah but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m a big star around here and what these girls want, they’ll sure as hell get it.”

“Wow. And here I thought you were just another puppet for the music industry.” You reply back with a snarky undertone, lifting yourself up from the ground and wiping any muck and dirt left on your clothes. The young musician didn’t take your words kindly and narrowed his eyebrows together.

“Hey listen, it’s not as easy as you may think. Just be thankful you’re still alive because if they had caught you, you would’ve been roadkill by now.” He commented as if it was a statement of fact.

“I barely know you!” You argued, lifting your arms up to emphasize your point.

“Doesn’t matter to them. They see some girl out with a popular celebrity, they become lions and you’re their prey.”

You roll at his comment, thinking he’s just over-exaggerating. “Well thank you for the joyride, but I really should get back to my apartment.”

“What did you get?” He asks curiously as he stares at your bag full of food, he sounded like a kid who saw a bag full of candy on Halloween.

“Black bean noodles with rice on the side.” You explain to him simply, going over to make sure you got exactly what you needed and it didn’t fall out while you were running.

The man rests his hand against his stomach, it begins rumbling with hunger as he heard those three words. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday because of the intense and strict schedule his company has forced him to go through and he would be lying right now if he said he wasn’t hungry. “Black bean noodles? That sounds really good! That’s one of my favorite dishes, I haven’t had something like that in a while.”

You cross your arms, thinking it was his way of attempting to relate to you on some level. “Oh please, you’re a star! I bet you eat everything that’s handed to you.” You didn’t mean for it to come out so cold and bitter but you couldn’t help yourself, this was some celebrity and you’ve had a dislike for them because a lot of them are just stuck-up snobs who bully everyone lower class than them. The man gives you a look that even you couldn’t figure out, almost like he was envisioning the different foods he wished he could eat but couldn’t.

“I wish it were that simple. My company would kill me if they saw me eating anything like that, I’m forced to be on a strict diet and I’m barely allowed to eat a granola bar let alone noodles.”

Shocked by his explanation, you lower down your arms and began feeling bad for making such assumptions. You alternate looking between him and the food, clearly the thought of him starving had profusely disturbed you and you couldn’t help but send an expression of empathy and sadness to the lone musician. When you decided to speak up once more, your voice went up an octave, softly responding back in a more friendly manner, it was your discreet way of apologizing to the poor guy for being so harsh. “Really? I’ve never got it before. My friend likes them and practically begged me to get it for her.”

“Your friend has good taste. I guess I better get going, the fans have died down and it’s probably safe for me to leave. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah.” You mindlessly say as you watch him turn around before you could say anything else but when he rounds the corner, you quickly find your voice once again and call out to him, hoping he hasn’t left just yet. “Hey! If you want to, why don’t you come over and have dinner?”

He emerges from the side and leans against the bricks walls, hands in his pockets like he’s trying to protect himself from the freezing cold. “I can’t. Mostly because we don’t know each other and my company would kill me if I ate something that wasn’t on their list which is not many, to be honest.”

You slowly walk up towards him and look at him directly, taking a minute to look at his features. Poor thing looked like he was starving himself, even though you’ve never liked idols and found them all to be the same mindless puppets, it can’t be said for this guy. His cheek bones were hollowed, he’s skinny but to an unhealthy standard, and his eyes were baggy and darkened around the sockets, almost sunken in. You couldn’t tell if it was from a lack of sleep, starvation, or both. You hesitate for a moment before placing your mitten hand on top of his exposed hand. “But you’re starving. I can’t let you walk away and not have something.”

“I really can’t.”

“Please? I really don’t want to leave you in this state and the food I have isn’t that bad for you.”

After realizing that you’re not gonna give up on this and that you really were serious, he took a second to think it over. The thought really was enticing and he would be lying to himself once more if he said he wasn’t interested and desperate to eat anything, even if it came from a complete stranger, and he knew the food was legit because well, he can see it very clearly. “Well...alright.”

Once you heard his confirmation, you show a small smile and nodded with him. “Then it’s settled! Off to my house we go!” You latch onto his arm and begin walking home with him when another thought came to mind and halted in your steps. “Oh yeah, you’d better wear your disguise or we’re gonna be running from your psycho fans. I didn’t even catch your name.”

A chuckle came out of him as he placed his cap snug on his head and his mask covering half of his face, the only thing visible were his eyes, everything else made him seem like he was invincible to the public eye. “My name’s Namjoon.”

“So you’re that Namjoon guy my friend always talks about! Oh boy, this is gonna be fun.” You smirk to yourself as you two resume walking, the thought of your friend acting like a complete psycho in front of her bias entertained you.

Once you and Namjoon arrived at your place, your first instinct when you walked through the front door was give an explanation to your friend about why you were late and how worried she was. When you told her what had happened and showed her evidence to prove your case, her reaction was a lot more different than how she usually is. Throughout the evening, you and Namjoon got along fairly well—with the exception of your friend asking him benign questions about his career as an idol and if the other members are exactly the same in real life—you would frequently apologize for her erratic behavior as it worried you it would make the idol uncomfortable but he says it’s nothing compared to what he always hears from fangirls.

You and Namjoon surprisingly hit it off at the end of the night and you exchanged phone numbers when he was about to leave and promised each other you would meet again soon, this time without your friend in the picture. After he left, thoughts began to provoke and you wondered to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about idols for once.

And now let’s look at today’s events, where are you and Namjoon right now in your relationship? Well one thing’s for certain is that you two are officially dating and have been since 2017, two years after your initial meeting. When you two became more comfortable with each other, he had invited you over to the dorms and introduced you to his members, to which they immediately welcomed you into their group with open arms, you’ve actually become best friends with some of them. It’s been a fun and crazy ride, exploring different countries and cultures had never crossed your mind before but now you can safely say that it’s been one of the best things to have ever happened in your life. You were fortunate to have somebody like him and him you because along the way, you have made each other better, Namjoon had taught you that being guarded and stubborn shouldn’t lock you out of the world and it’s okay to let your guard down sometimes, and you taught him that just because he was an idol doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be any boundaries and that he was a human being first.

Whenever the media caught wind of your relationship, they always thought it was just a fling and that the two of you would break up like everybody else in the industry but so far, you have proved each and every one of them wrong and now both you and Joon don’t give two shits about what everybody says.

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imastrangeone98 · 5 years ago

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Early Morning

(A/N: ok fuck. Here it is again... becuz I’m stupid. What’s even more stupid is that I write exclusively on the tumblr post thing, so I had to basically rewrite everything. I did my best to include parts I remembered clearly, but it definitely looks and sounds different from the one before. plz forgive me for my utter stupidity.... I am sorry)

WARNING: unconventional sex (aka demon heat stuff) definitely unrealistic and probably unsafe sex becuz why not. I am also legit afraid that I made this dirtier than not only my very first smut... but even the first edition of this very one shot. Fuck

Takes place maybe a year or two after my story “lost and found”

It was around 7:42 in the morning when Faith felt shaggy hair tickle the back of her neck and arms wrap around her waist.

“Good morning,” she said to her groggy companion. “Are you hungry? I’m making omelets.”

Dante grumbled, “Sleepy. Why you up so early?”

“You seemed like you needed a pick-me-up,” she replied, stirring the egg mix. “Especially after last night.”

She remembered it clearly. Last night, Dante had been on a job- to clear out a mansion infested with demons. It must have been tougher than he had predicted, because he returned home that night soaked in blood, littered with already-healing bruises, and a snappy attitude.

“You seemed really annoyed,” she mused.

“Sorry. It was just... bad.” He seemed to shudder behind her, and she could sense his unwillingness to recount the tale.

“It’s alright.” Faith rubbed her head against the side of his neck; what sounded like a purr rumbled from his chest. “I understand. If you want, you can tell me after breakfast.”

No response. She couldn’t tell if he heard her or was too distracted by something to notice. So she shrugged and returned her attention to the eggs-

Only for something to trail the soft curve of her jaw. Something wet.

“Dante...?”

A small hum answered.

“Did you just... lick me?”

“Yeah.” His face was practically buried in the crook of her neck. “You smell nice.”

Okay... She hadn’t expected that. “I smell like onions.”

“Yeah.” His tongue laved over her pulse before biting on it.

She couldn’t stop the small moan escaping her lips, even if she tried.

“And you’re... okay with that?”

“Yeah. Smell so good.” Faster than she could blink, she was yanked away from the stovetop and placed onto the counter, where the now growling half-demon shoved his face into her neck and inhaled.

And speaking of smell...

Oh boy.

Dante’s natural cinnamon scent was spicier than normal, so much so that it made her eyes water. His bare skin was hot to the touch, and she couldn’t help but wonder how she hadn’t noticed it before.

“Dante, are you alright-“ She yelped, feeling teeth bite into her skin again.

A raw, guttural snarl rippled through the air, only for it to get abruptly cut off.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his hands clenching and unclenching its painfully hard grip on her thighs, as if he couldn’t decide whether to let go or move closer. “Fuck. I thought I had at least a week...”

“What does that mean-!” A gasp flew out of her when something hard pressed against her clothed center. “Oh...”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s my heat. Something must’ve triggered it- Oh, shit.”

“Your heat?”

He sighed. “Basically my ‘fuck a baby in you’ instincts. But I wasn’t supposed to go until next week. Fuck, it was that motherfucking demon, wasn’t it?!”

“Is this about-?” Another small moan burst out when he slowly, mindlessly began to rock his hips against hers.

“Yesterday,” he confirmed, pressing his lips against her cheek. “Some demon kept... flirting, I think. Shit, she kept making me angry. Kept spraying me with something. I should’ve fucking known it would trigger this stupid heat!”

As he kept talking, he didn’t seem to realize that his thrusts got stronger and stronger, until he was practically pushing her against the wall.

But if she was being honest with herself, she didn’t mind at all. She... liked it.

“Dante...” she moaned, unable to stop herself.

“...Shit.” But still, he didn’t stop the harsh rhythm of his hips. “Faith, if you want out, you gotta tell me now. I can only-“ He suddenly hissed, pressing his forehead against hers, “I can only hang on for so long. You’re driving me insane.”

She couldn’t help but smile, and she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But I don’t want out.”

His pupils rapidly dilated. She couldn’t help but think of how similar they looked to the night sky. “You serious?”

“Yes.”

A harsh growl rumbled in her ear. His skin now bordered on burning; she worried about him somehow combusting. His grip on her thighs loosened just enough for him to slide them upward towards the hem of her sleeping shorts.

As he pulled them off, Faith took the time to observe him. In the soft morning light, with the barely illuminated sun framing the back of his face, he looked like a deity. One for whom she would gladly lay down her life to worship.

She couldn’t resist touching him. She savored the warmth his hands provided to her now exposed lower body. Her fingers traced his collarbones, up his neck, to his jawline, then resting on his cheeks. Despite the fact that she could feel the raging lust simmering under the surface, he managed to tilt his head to nuzzle into her palm, taking the time to kiss each fingertip.

It was absolutely unfair just how utterly beautiful he was.

Dante huffed. “Stop it.”

She was busy watching him tug down his sweatpants. “Huh?”

“You’re overthinking. I can tell. Stop it.” He leaned forward to kiss her, slowly pushing his way inside her body. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

The pressure in her stomach began to grow, faster than she ever expected. She yelped, and clung onto his shoulders, nails biting into his skin. “W-wait...”

“C’mon, angel,” the half-demon moaned, his fingers tapping at her clit, silently urging her body to take more of him. “Little more. Just a little more.”

She squirmed in his grip, the sensation of her walls stretching to accommodate his large girth too overwhelming, too good.

But then she felt it. The soft slap of skin meeting skin. She let out a broken moan. So that’s what it feels like.

“That’s it, baby.” His cock slid out of her only to press right back in. “Good girl. M̸y̴ ̶g̵i̷r̷l̶.”

He began to thrust. Each ridge of his cock tugged at her walls, making the slick sounds of their heat-crazed mating even that more lewd.

A particularly rough push nearly sent her several inches back, but his grip on her thighs was so tight that it nearly broke through the skin. A small part of her wanted to ask him to go just a bit gentler, but the words.

The filthy words he moaned into her ear as he continued to pound into her, kept spreading her legs wider, gaining more and more access to the deepest, darkest parts of herself that she didn’t even know existed, hitting the spots that were kept well-hidden.

Urging her to take him in a little more, that she was doing so well, taking me so well, y̵o̸u̸’r̷e̶ ̵s̴o̴ ̸f̷u̸c̷k̴i̸n̸g̷ ̵t̶i̶g̸h̷t̵ ̴a̶n̷d̸ ̵w̸e̴t̴ ̴a̴n̵d̷ ̷f̴e̸r̴t̵i̶l̷e̶ ̷a̶n̸d̴ ̷p̸e̴r̷f̴e̵c̴t̸ a̴n̶d̵ ̵m̸i̴n̸e̵m̸i̵n̸e̴m̵i̶n̸e̷-̵

Just hearing them alone was enough to persuade her that simply taking the raw, overwhelming pleasure he gave her was the right choice.

But his fingers... his voice...

Curiosity won out. She mustered the strength to open her eyes-

And she marveled.

Dante’s skin now had patches of red leather-like armor. His fingertips had turned into sharp claws that dug into her inner thighs. And his eyes changed from their usual sapphire blue to fiery rubies.

He was magnificent.

The words came out before she could even think: “ I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replied instantly, leaning forward to press his forehead against her own. He took advantage of the new position to sink in deeper inside her. “Mine.”

His pace, if it was even possible, was faster and stronger than ever before, the force rattling the countertop.

“M̴i̶n̴e̵,” he repeated, snatching the back of her neck and yanking her forward. “Y̵o̶u̶’r̷e̶ ̸m̴i̷n̵e̵.̵ ̶M̷i̵n̴e̵ ̸t̴o̶ ̴m̶a̵r̸k̷.̷ ̵M̸i̵n̷e̶ ̷t̴o̴ ̴f̴u̴c̵k̷.̸ ̶M̶i̵n̷e̵ ̴t̴o̴ ̸b̵r̸e̵e̶d̶.”

“Yours,” Faith gasped. She buried her face in his shoulder, and took deep lungfuls of his mouthwatering scent. “All yours.” Licking over a patch of his leathery scales, she couldn’t resist the urge to bite down on it.

Instantly, he howled, and sunk his teeth deep into her neck, hard enough to draw golden blood. His hips stuttered once, twice, three times before pushing in as far as he could possibly go. Hot cum flooded inside her, coating her walls, warming her stomach.

Black spots danced in her vision. She wanted to scream from the overstimulation.

“M̴y̸ ̶m̶a̴t̶e̴,” he purred, licking over her bleeding bond mark. “M̷y̷ ̶s̶w̸e̶e̸t̶ ̷m̸a̷t̴e̶. L̴e̷t̷ ̵g̷o̷.”

One final nudge to her aching clit was the trigger. Her mind went blank. Everything turned white. She fell off an edge that she didn’t even know existed, an edge she would gladly tumble over again and again.

She came.

When the air finally managed to work its way back into her lungs, she felt a warm hand running through her hair and a fullness in her stomach. “...Dante?

“Yeah. I’m here.” A gentle kiss was placed on the side of her head. “Are you... okay?”

She laughed. “I’m alright. Better than alright, actually. How about you?”

“That’s good. I’m fine too.” He let out an exhausted chuckle. But his smile slowly shifted into something more serious; the hand in her hair slid down, brushing over her cheek, rubbing the mark on her neck, before resting over her heart. “Mate.”

“Mate,” she affirmed, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Yours.”

He pressed his forehead against hers. A free arm was curled firmly around her waist. She didn’t need to feel his emotions to feel his sincerity. “Yours.”

For a moment, all was quiet. The birds sang with the rapid rising of the sun. Light shone strongly through the windows. Faith took the time to admire Dante’s beauty more thoroughly, fingers skimming over his face, his neck, his collarbones. All the while having full confidence that every inch of this divine half-demon belonged to her.

He kissed her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She blushed. She had a feeling that no matter how many times she would hear it, each one would still send her face burning beet red.

The room went silent once more, with the exception of the small kisses placed on her face.

“Dante...”

He hummed in response, lips pressed to her temple.

“...I forgot about the omelets.”

He guffawed. “Of course we did. We got busy.”

“Please don’t say it like that...” she whined, burying her bright red face in his shoulder. “Are you hungry, though? We can whip something up-“ Her words stopped cold when she felt him slowly begin to thrust back into her.

“Later. We can eat later.” His eyes were fixated on the spot where their bodies connected, watching his cock slide back and forth inside her drenched hole, watching his cum seep out of the sides and drip onto the floor. “But right now...

“I̸ ̸g̶o̷t̵ ̸s̴o̴m̸e̸ ̵b̷r̴e̵e̶d̵i̴n̶g̷ ̵t̶o̸ ̸d̸o̷.”

———————————————————————

A/N: ITS DONE... AGAIN

Once again, I cannot apologize enough for the sheer act of stupidity I committed. in return, plz accept this even dirtier smut as a token of recompense

On that note, I will not be making any more dumb mistakes... hopefully

#devil may cry #dmc dante #dmc oc #dante x reader #dante x oc #a reminder that lost and found takes place a few months after dmc 3 #so dante looks more like dmc3 here #but still a little older?#does that make sense?

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inevitably-johnlocked · 5 years ago

Text

CHRISTMAS FICS 2019 Pt. 2

(PART 1: Bookmarked Fics HERE)

Happy holidays everyone!! Here’s the promised Part 2 list for y’all!!! This one is all the fics I have RECORDED (not necessarily all the fic I have) on my To Read list (which I only started recently so I wouldn’t have to keep copy-pasting stuff from old Tumblr posts), and I would LOVE for y’all to add your own winter holiday themed fic recs onto this list if it’s not already here!! <3 This is the community gift to the community, and the more fics the better! Any holiday / observance welcome!! <3

Happy holidays, guys!! I hope these two lists help get you into the holiday spirit!! <3

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MARKED FOR LATER FICS

A Study in Pink Pyjamas by alexxphoenix42 (M, 1,628 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Est. Rel., Pink Pyjamas, Fluff, Cross-Dressing) – Sherlock hasn't been a fan of either Christmas or fancy pyjamas for a number of years, but John has a way of changing his mind about things.

Santa Knows by Itsallfine (T, 1,719 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas Party, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluff) – Sherlock and John both get exactly what they want from the Yard's secret Santa exchange. Pure holiday fluff.

He's an Angry Elf by Ewebie (T, 2,168 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Crack, Frosty, The Gingerbread Man) – Sherlock as a bad mall Santa and John as an elf... I make no apologies for this.

Santa Claus Is Going To Town by stravaganza (E, 2,253 w., 1 Ch. || Santa!John / Elf!Sherlock Costumes, Rimming, Rutting, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Blowjobs, Sex in Costumes, PWP, Humour/Crack, Christmas) – herlock and John are invited to a Christmas party at the Yard. In costume! Sounds legit, right? Riiiight...

Impossible Things by A_Candle_For_Sherlock (G, 2,413 w., 1 Ch. || Est. Rel., Marriage Proposal, Christmas, Fluff) – He'd promised himself he'd do it before Christmas, because otherwise Mummy WILL ask, probably in front of John.

John Likes Christmas by Arcwin (G, 2,638 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff, Kid Sherlock / John, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Nostalgia, Sherlock Holmes POV) – John likes Christmas. I fail to see why. This is where we find ourselves on this dreary, December evening in 221B. “Sherlock, but, it’s Christmas!” I sigh. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

The Biscuits May Look Terrible But At Least We’re Satisfied (E, 2,745 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, Christmas, Fluff & Smut, Christmas Cookies, Jealous Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Voice Kink, Dirty Talk) – The whole baking craze had started two days ago when Sherlock had casually mentioned that he hadn’t eaten his mother’s famous homemade Christmas cookies in years. Ordinarily such a comment wouldn’t have stuck with John, he knew Sherlock wasn’t close to his parents, but the touch of wistfulness in Sherlock’s voice had John calling Mrs. Holmes as soon as Sherlock was in the shower. An attempt at a Christmas surprise and a flirtatious client all lead to some loving Christmas smut.

The Case of the Frog Murder and the Disembodied Dog's Head by a_different_equation (T, 2,794 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon || Victorian, Period-Typical Homophobia, Christmas, Est. Rel., Hound of Baskervilles, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending, Romance, Fluff and Humour, Miscommunication) – The true story behind the Baskerville case, and its strange and rather queer conclusion via Christmas Cards.

The Old Town by a_different_equation (T, 3,573 w., 1 Ch. || Hans Christian Anderson Fusion || Magical Realism, Christmas, Fairy Tale Elements, Love Stories, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Museums, Sweet Sherlock) – Once upon a time there were two boys. This is the story how once upon December, they found the missing Christmas Spirit, true love and new beginnings. A Queer fairytale for all seasons.

New Memories by WhouffleLover24 (T, 4,072 w, 1 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Holidays) – “We all have memories. This is so you can capture new ones.”

i read your book, you magnificent bastard by a_different_equation (M, 4,145 w., 1 Ch. || Writer Sherlock AU || Coffee Shops, Bookstores, Alternate First Meeting, Epistolary, Love at First Sight, Romantic Comedy, Metafiction, Falling in Love, Sherlock Wears Glasses, Gay John, Matchmaker Mike, Storytelling, Christmas) – In which John Watson, recently returned from the war, buys a book in Mike Stamford's bookshop and Sherlock Holmes is a famous, openly gay, crime fiction writer whose hero is in need of a partner. Part 1 of the Magnificent Bastard!AU series

Knit Two Together by shinychimera (G, 4,726 w., 2 Ch. || Platonics/Friendship, Best Friends, Knitting, Christmas) – Sherlock Holmes can master any skill to which he sets his mind -- why should knitting a jumper for his best friend be any different?

Oh, Holy Night by sussexbound (E, 5,311 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Smut, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Fluff) – Sherlock manoeuvres them towards the bedroom and then lowers John carefully onto the bed. “Take off your shirt and trousers. We should wash the shirt, just to be on the safe side with the poison, and you’ll want the ice directly on the bruise, I assume.” John winces and rolls onto his uninjured side. “You just want me to get my kit off.” “Mmm, well it is Christmas Eve, and I have been a very good boy this year.” John’s eyes widen a little, as a smile teases the corner of his mouth. “True.” Part 6 of Home is Not a Place

Winter Ficlets by 221b_careful_what_you_wish_for (M, 6,239 w., 11 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff & Smut, Jealous John, First Kiss / Time, Marriage Proposal, BJ’s, Suit Porn, Domestic Fluff, Cuddling, Snowball Fight, Winter, Sherlock Cooking, Bed Sharing) – A collection of winter and holiday stand-alone ficlets.

It's Cold Outside by Salambo06 (E, 7,357 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Cuddling, Snuggling, Frottage, First Kiss / Time, Bed Sharing, Miscommunications, Love Confessions) – John and Sherlock, Christmas night, the heat broke, add some shared body heat and (not so) accidental erections mixed with some miscommunication and awkwardness and, you guessed it, they’re sharing a bed.

if you like him so much then why don't you marry him by zigostia (T, 7,750 w., 1 Ch. || Teenlock, Oblivious John, Christmas) – Am I going to regret this? SH Not one bit. JW I’m going to regret this. SH

You Don't Need Wings to Fly by Laiquilasse (T, 11,326 w., 11 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Bullying, Angels, Suicidal Ideation, Christmas) – John, an angel, is sent from Heaven to help a desperate Sherlock Holmes by showing him what life would have been like if he had never existed.

2017 by 7PercentSolution, J_Baillier (T, 11,466 w., 1 Ch. || Christmas, Case Fic, Est. Rel., Angst, Mental Health Issues, Autism, Anxiety, Family) – Sherlock takes on a case that raises unexpected challenges, both professional and personal. Memories of times before John complicate matters. Part 9 of On Pins And Needles

Five Christmases that went wrong and one that didn't by love_in_mind_palace (M, 11,685 w., 6 Ch. || Christmas, Fluff & Smut, Domestics, Est. Rel., 5 and 1′s, Canon Divergence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff) – John isn’t sure about most of the things in his life. Except for the fact that he loves Sherlock, Sherlock loves him back and that after years of bad luck, he is getting the Christmas he always deserved.

Snowed In by Salambo06, WhatIfIAmInsane (E, 15,687 w., 5 Ch. || Christmas, Smut, Unilock, Alternate First Meeting, Anal, Bottomlock, Army!John, BJ’s) – Sherlock had everything planned out for months now. Today he would finally put an end to this case. Even if that meant keeping an eye on his suspect in a crowded, german airport on Christmas Eve. The same crowded airport John was waiting in for his final flight back home from his first deployment to Afghanistan, not at all thrilled by the prospect of spending Christmas with his possibly drunk sister. Although the airport was stuffed to the brim with holiday travelers and tacky decorations, he was enjoying his time alone, mostly. But then, snow began to fall.

Wonderful, Etcetera. by VictoryCandescence (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

On the Table (Eventually John Watson's Favorite Christmas Story) by emmagrant01, numberthescars (E, 18,135 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Mild Angst, Fluff, Masturbation, Anal, Rimming, First Kiss / Time, Romance, Christmas) – Set after TRF. Someone's leaving John strange little gifts in the weeks before Christmas. But who could it be?

All I Want For Christmas by Mssmithlove (E, 19,508 w., 1 Ch. || Unilock, Mystrade, Christmas, Holmes Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining) – Taking Sherlock's platonic university flatmate home with him for Christmas can be a tricky business. Especially when he wishes their relationship wasn't platonic at all. Part 18 of Happiness Awaits

Home for Christmas by SilentAuror (E, 19,499 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post S4, Doctor John, Christmas, Glasses, Domestic, First Time, Slow Burn, Rosie) – It's been eleven months since Eurus Holmes happened, and just one since John and Rosie moved back into Baker Street at last. With Christmas just around the corner, both Sherlock and John are slightly baffled when Mrs Hudson decides to give them a slow cooker as a "house-warming present"...

Advent Calendar 2017 by Hotaru_Tomoe (E, 41,952 w., 25 Ch. || Not S4 Compliant, Fluff, Humour, Smut, Light Angst, First Kiss/Time, Est. Rel., Hurt/Comfort, Spanking, Christmas Party, Lingerie, Various Universes, Advent Calendar Fic) – My Advent Calendar, 25 one shots from 1st to 25th December, Christmas-ish themed. Each story has its own rating. Part 23 of The English job

In Bed by Ellipsical (E, 46,922 w., 12 Ch. || Autofellatio, Vibrators, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Liminal Identities, Christmas, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Fingering, Jealous John, Therapy, Flirting, Texting, Fluff, Sherlock’s Violin, Anal, Est. Rel., Semi-Public Sex, Harry Watson, Communication, Coming in Pants, Spitroasting, Double Penetration, Dirty Talk, Internalized Homophobia, Self-Acceptance, Happy Ending, PTSD John, Coping Mechanisms, Angst, Hurt/Comfort) – It’s almost Christmas, John thinks, and this, this is bullshit. The epilogue to Guilty Secrets. Part 2 of Guilty Secrets

Raison d'être by AmphigoricSymphony and DemonicSymphony (M, 148,721 w., 21 Ch. || S3 Compliant, Sick Fic, Sherlock Whump, Protective John, Major Injury/Illness, Mentions of Past Torture, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation) – The missing months of His Last Vow, starting from Sherlock dropping in John's arms at 221B and carrying through the months of Hospital he endured. This is a study in emotional and physical trauma, striving to stick as close to the canon plot as possible. At Christmas Dinner, Mycroft asks why they are even celebrating. His mother's answer, 'Sherlock is home from hospital,' leads us to believe Sherlock was in hospital the majority of the time frame of his fall from shock at Baker Street, to nearly Christmas itself. We have no explanation for what John was doing all that time, so this is an effort to fill the gap. Part 2 of the Word Play series, Part 1 of the Reason and Ashes series

Extricate—An Ex Files Special by 7PercentSolution (E, 231,432 w., 41 Ch. || Not Johnlock, Sherlock/Victor Trevor, Unilock, Multiple POV’s, Drug Use, Classical Music, Chemistry, Slow Burn, Serious Injuries, Autism Spectrum, Bullying, Rugby, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sherlock Whump, Friends to Lovers, Protective Mycroft, Psychological Trauma, Christmas, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Sherlock’s Violin, Sulking, Late Nights, Sexual Identity, Social Awkwardness, Suicide, Homophobia, Clubbing, Big Brother Mycroft) – When Sherlock met Victor, and what happened next. A backstory that explains why caring truly may not be an advantage. This follows ACD canon and ignores BBC season 4, allowing the two of them to meet while at University.

MFL WIPs

First Christmas by PipMer (T, 4,199+ w., 19/31 Ch. || WIP || Est. Rel., Friendship, Fluff, Humour) – It's Sherlock and John's first Christmas together as a couple. Written as an interconnected set of 221b's for the Sherlock December Ficlet Challenge.

John Watson's Twelve Days of Hiccups by ChrisCalledMeSweetie (E, 8,394+w., 11/12 Ch. || WiP || Hiccups, Experimental Cures, Digital Rectal Massage, Orgasm as a Cure for Hiccups, First Time, Humour, Crack, Friends to Lovers, Christmas) – For John Watson, being afflicted with an intractable case of hiccups was a source of intense irritation. For Sherlock Holmes — his mad scientist of a flatmate — it was a golden opportunity for experimentation.

Your Many Tendencies Series by apliddell (T, 52,222+ w. across 5 works || WiP || Femlock, POC Characters, Enby Character, Sherlock’s Violin, YouTuber John, UST, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Slow Burn, Domesticity, Fluff, Recreational Drug Use, Friends to Lovers, Sherlock’s Past, First Kiss, Love Confessions, John’s Family, Christmas, Anxious Sherlock, Hurt / Comfort, Institutional Racism) – John Watson returns to London after a long absence, somewhat the worse for wear. She meets Sherlock Holmes, and starts feeling excited about life again.

"Merry Christmas" I wrapped it up and sent it with a note saying "I love you" by starrysummernights (E, 135,132+ w., 30/31 Ch. || WIP, chapter missing? || Post S4, Slow Burn, Mary is Not Nice, Christmas, Fluff, Smut, Angst, Parentlock, Past Torture / Rape) – John has moved back into 221B with his daughter Rosie after Mary was killed, but things are not exactly comfortable between him and Sherlock. After everything that has happened, they are trying to become friends again...and maybe something more. What better time than the Christmas season?! Takes place after TLD.

The Good Morrow Series by greywash (E, 216,513 +w. across 5 works || WiP || Post-TRF Divergence, Horny John, Smut, Feelings, Negotiations, Christmas/Advent, Sherlock is a Mess, Relationships, Addiction Issues, PTSD, Therapy, Injury, Aging, Loneliness, Marriage, Family, Friendship, POV Second Person, Travel, Character Studies) – A post-S2 series where everyone has a lot of feels about everything and plausibility is stretched unto breaking. Also: fucking.

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AGAIN, PLEASE suggest your own or your favourite holiday fics!! The more, the merrier!!! <3

#johnlock fic recs #to read #christmas fics #marked for later #my fic recs #long post

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shreddedparchment · 6 years ago

Text

Of Two Minds Pt. 06

You’re Not Alone

06/16/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve Word Count: 7,713

Masterpost Warnings: sexual descriptions, violence, language, ANGST!

A/N: Since there is only one or two more chapters for this one, I think I’m going to finish this one out before I go back to Parallel and the Brightest Star. That’s not to say I’m not working on either of those. I am. But I’ll focus on posting these first since it’s almost over. I hope you like this one. Also, I legit didn’t edit so, mind the typos. I’ll come back and read it tomorrow when I’m not so crosseyed. If you happen to reblog, thank you so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

Bucky’s waiting in the small living room of the floor you share with him and Steve.

He's sitting on the sofa, black cargo covered legs spread wide. Feet flat on the ground and his hands tucked under his strong arms, crossed over his chest.

He’s not making any attempt to hide his displeasure. The rough tick in his jaw, the glare he has aimed at the TV is really for you and Steve. You know it is.

But why is he angry? Holding hands at the meeting?

When he turns it on you, that raging scowl, you release Steve’s hand as guilt builds inside your belly.

“Bucky?” You probe carefully, searching hopefully, despite his anger.

“Sounded like you were having fun. I was gonna go get you but Captain Spangled beat me there.” He’s bitter.

Oh no. Your heart stops as you realize that he must have seen. Must have heard.

What did you do?

The jealous sting in his voice you expect and the harsh glare thrown at you and Steve is more than understandable.

“Bucky…” You begin, but you don’t get much further.

“No.” He says, flat, unfeeling. For the first time in many years, you see the Winter Soldier.

The Soldat is diluted in Bucky. Suppressed. Bucky is almost free of him after years of careful reconditioning and therapy and recovery, but he’s there. Cold. Distant. And you did this to him.

You.

You’re scum. You’re shit. You’re selfish. You’re greedy. You’re the worst kind of person on the planet.

You’re sorry but you don’t regret what you did with Steve.

You need to fix this.

“Bucky…please…” You beg, moving towards him.

He allows you to step up to him. He doesn’t pull back when you take hold of his forearms. You see the subtle shift in his eyes as your touch weakens his armor. The muscles beneath your hands tighten however, tense.

“Please. I love you. I will never stop loving you.” You promise.

You know it’s not enough but you want it to be. You want your words to heal his hurt. You need for him to trust in that because you love Steve, it doesn’t take away from how you feel for him. For Bucky.

“No.” Bucky says, finality in his tone.

It guts you. A knife plunged into the soft fleshy bits of you, twisted and yanked pulling with it everything that makes you whole and happy.

“Buck-" Steve tries but when Bucky’s ice-like eyes find his warm storm blues, he stops talking.

“I said no. My answer,” He looks back down at you and speaks to injure. He wants it to hurt you and you can’t blame him. “Is no.”

You had already known that what you shared with Steve down by the lake, in Brazil, and last night cuddled safely in his arms would be all you’d get.

You’d known it and it still hurts. It’s still agonizing.

“You’re gonna leave me now, right?” Bucky spits.

You’ve never seen him so angry and his rage burns you. It takes lashes at you, scarring you.

You don’t want to leave him. Of course, you don’t!

You’d talked a big game but now that you’re facing the choice, you can’t make your feet move. You want them both but the idea of walking away from Bucky is unbearable.

You won’t do that to him. You can’t.

You cry, tears spilling quick and sudden as you grip his arms harder, trying to pull him closer but he’s a statue. Immovable. Michelangelo’s David. Cut and perfect and stoic.

“No…” Your guttural sob chokes you.

How do you walk away? How do you live your life knowing they’re both somewhere loving someone else? They’re yours. Both of them. Bucky is forever emblazoned into your heart. If he leaves you, he takes it with you, leaving a shell.

Steve is your soul. He knows your inner thoughts. He knows your impulses. He knows your darkness and your light. You want him to know your love. Your most vulnerable self, unshielded, ready to surrender to his love and to love him with abandon.

You want to be spread out beneath him as he takes you as one. As part of himself. Like you already are with Bucky. Intimate and private and personal.

And Bucky! Bucky needs to see your inner workings. You want to show him your darkness and to find out if he can still love it. Love you. How can you choose? How can you leave?

But how can you stay?!

“-I l-love you, baby, please don’t push me away.” You plead.

Bucky huffs, pulls your hands away from his body and moves around you.

“BUCKY!” You cry, a torn whisper, half crazed with the thought of losing him forever.

You drop onto the sofa, fisting the plush cushion with writhing claws. Your crying is loud and ugly and you didn’t know you could die and still somehow be alive.

You scream into the sofa because you don’t know what else to do. Bucky took your strength with him. You’d chase after him but your body won’t obey. It’s broken.

It’s full of pain, confusion, but mostly guilt because this is all your fault.

He saw you and Steve. Bucky did.

He heard you. He was there. He saw Steve touch you and you touch Steve in ways that are only his.

Why are you so horrible? Why do you do this? Why can you only destroy?

You hear Steve leave too. On some plane of consciousness, you're aware of him banging on Bucky’s door. You hear the door open and then slamming and then a small muted ruckus. Then silence.

The silence is punctured only by your sobbing. Eventually that stops too and you’re very aware of the fact that it’s either very late or really early.

You shut your eyes and fall asleep. Emotionally spent.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re awoken by the gentle shake of a familiar hand. It’s not big. Not Steve. Definitely not Bucky.

“Y/N wake up. We got’im. We know where he is.” Nat takes her hand back and watches as you sleepily sit yourself up.

You teeter for a moment; caught between whatever dark dream you’d just woken up from and very real heartbreak you’re in.

“You okay?” She asks, wary either from the look on your face or the way your body seems to stutter.

“Yeah.” You croak. You clear your throat.

“Come on. We’ve got the jet going.”

You look towards the hallway towards the bedrooms. Bucky had stormed off that way and you faintly remember hearing Steve follow him.

“They’re already on the jet. You can change on the way. Come on.” She urges you, a strange gentleness in her voice that tells you she’s very aware of some part of what’s going on with you and your two boys.

No. Not yours. Rejected. And you can’t be with Steve. It wouldn’t be fair to Bucky.

You sigh and get to your feet, slightly stung that neither of them woke you up.

The elevator ride down to the hangar is thick with words that need to be said. Not by you.

When she speaks, she’s leaning against the wall, her hands—covered in fingerless tac gloves—squeeze the metal bar along behind her.

“I-I’m sorry.” Her voice is pleading, guilty. Like you feel.

“For what?” You look at her, eyes bleary from sleep. You hadn’t even bothered to look at what time it is.

“I pushed him to go on that mission with you. I’ve been trying to get him to do something…about the way he feels about you, for a long time.” Nat flexes her jaw, then looks down at her feet before meeting you with an apologetic green gaze. “He told me that he kissed you. To make Bucky jealous? To help you two along? I could see how miserable he was and I just…”

“It’s not your fault, Nat.” You look away from her to stare at the metal doors. You did this to all of you. You. No one else.

“It’s okay, you know? Loving both of them.”

And you don’t know how it can be okay. Nothing is okay. For one fleeting moment, you think it might be better to be dead than without either of them.

The thought scares you and you gasp lightly.

“Y/N?” Nat moves towards you, placing her hand on your lower back. “You okay? You look a little green.”

“I’m fine.” You growl, not meaning to but you’re so angry at yourself.

Angry for hurting Bucky. Angry for loving Steve and hurting him too. Angry because this isn’t you. You’re not a quitter. You’re a fighter. You’ll leave, just like you said you would.

Not forever. Never forever.

You just need to get some distance. You need space. You need time to think. Maybe Bucky and Steve need time, too?

Maybe being away from you will help things be clearer?

“Y/N?” Nat probes, leaning forward to look at your face because you’re still folded forward.

“I said I’m fine.” You push her hand away and as the elevator opens you move out with wobbly feet but find your stride halfway to the jet.

“About time.” Tony snarks, in full iron armor as he steps onto the jet.

He stands aside and watches you board but with his helmet off, you can see the confusion on his face from whatever expression you’re wearing.

You move for the back-left corner of the jet where a small compartment slides out for spare uniforms.

“Hey, pouty. What’s got your mood all puckered?” Sam asks, giving you a passing glance but quickly taking in your mood.

You don’t answer him.

Very aware of your surroundings, you take note of Bucky standing at the front of the jet, hand on the back of the left pilot’s chair where Sam sits. The right left open for Nat when she boards shortly after you.

He doesn’t turn to look at you as you come on board. He’s mad at you. You get it.

Steve sits on the right side of the jet, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. They’re both dressed in full mission gear but neither of them looks at you and it stings so painfully that you blink hard to chase away the tears that accompany the ache.

Fine. If that’s how they both want to play this, then you are more than happy to oblige.

You strip, not caring who may be looking. First to go are your jeans, then your white t-shirt. You still haven’t changed since your encounter with Steve by the lake.

As the back hatch closes and Tony climbs on, sans uniform which has tucked itself back into its nano-housing on his chest, he moves towards you. He leans against the wall of the jet, shielding your semi-nakedness from the rest of the team.

“Are you good?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me if I’m alright? I’m fine!” You shout.

You don’t mean to snap but your fuse is already short enough with Bucky and Steve having left Nat to wake you and both of them not even sparing you a glance. Maybe you deserve it? Maybe you don’t?

Either way, it ticks you off, and the gnawing guilt in your chest only serves to strengthen your sour mood.

You shove your clothes into the small compartment and pull the Kevlar tac suit on. Holsters fastened and guns slipped in place. Tony continues to watch you.

“Are you getting laid?” He asks, eyes narrowed. “Helps with stress. Are you stressed?”

You frown at him and move around him, ignoring the way he smirks because you don’t want to snap at him again.

“Where are Vision and Wanda?” You wonder, asking no one in particular but hoping that Bucky or Steve will answer.

“Scouting ahead.” Nat says, no hint of your rudeness with her earlier. “They’ll meet us at the safe zone then move in with us.”

You walk over to her and as soon as you enter his periphery, Bucky turns and walks away. He moves over to the right side of the jet and sits himself as far away from Steve as possible. Ramrod straight, metal hand clenching and unclenching.

The drop your heart does takes your breath away.

All of your anger seems to disappear instantly as that painful stinging returns to the inner corners of your eyes. You shut them, urging yourself to stay professional. You can’t focus on what’s happening with you and Bucky and Steve right now.

Aaron must be the focus.

“Where are we going?” You ask Nat and your voice is a gasp.

When she turns to look at you, you can see her take note of the spot Bucky had just stood in and then frowns as she finds him sitting as far away from you and Steve as possible. When she meets your eyes, the look of solidarity and sympathy is piercing.

“Rio. Or more specifically, Cabo Frio.” She states, pulling up a map of South America. On the bottom-right corner of Brazil’s Eastern coast is a not so small city with beautiful beaches, and crystal blue-green waters.

“What’s in Cabo Frio?” You wonder, forcing yourself to focus on the display in front of her.

Since you can’t choose Steve and Bucky won’t let you choose him anymore, you choose Aaron. That’s where you’ll devote your energy. Besides, the more you think about Aaron, the less aware you are of the empty feeling in your chest.

“It’s what wasn’t in Cabo Frio six months ago?” Nat moves the map to the East and about thirty miles from shore to empty, dark blue ocean. “This was the South Atlantic six months ago.”

She presses a few buttons with sleek black polished nails and the map changes on where there was nothing there is now a small island.

“This is the South Atlantic now.”

“So, we’re flying to that island?” You wonder, reaching out to zoom the map in.

“That’s not an island.” Sam says to your left.

You keep zooming in and find yourself staring at the largest ship you have ever seen.

“Is that a ship?” You gasp, zooming in more.

“Longer than the Sears Tower is tall.” Nat says. “We’re pretty sure that’s where the drugs are coming from.”

You blink, stunned by the size, the ingenious of using a ship to manufacture drugs.

Pulling anchor and moving on is so easy. If someone gets wind of you, you just float away.

“Are we going straight to the ship?”

“No.” Nat says.

“They’ve got a base inland where we got aerial footage of your mark making drops. We’ll go there first, scope that out, take it if we can. Then we’ll take the ship. We want to cut off communication with the base on shore so that we can sneak up on the ship. We don’t want one warning the other.” Tony says, sidling up behind you.

Turning to look at him, you frown. “That’s stupid. Once they lose communication with the base, they’ll move on. Why don’t we just split up? Half of us can take the ship. The other half of us can take the base.”

“It’s too risky.” Nat shakes her head, worry painting her green eyes dark jade. “Something goes wrong, we won’t have backup.”

“Where’s Bruce?” You wonder. “Looking around.”

Steve and Bucky are standing closer, interested in the conversation now that it’s turned to the mission. You hate them a little for meeting your eyes. For tearing your heart in two and then having the audacity to look at you with nothing but business on their minds.

The feeling lasts only a second because your mind is also on business. Once the shock of having them looking at you and listening as if it matters what you say has passed, you bring your gaze to Tony.

“He’s with Wanda, scoping out the base.” He says.

“And Thor?”

“With Vision, checking out the ship.”

“Well, call them back. Is there a safe zone where we can meet up with them?” You ask, inadvertently taking charge of the mission.

“Yeah, about twenty miles outside of the city.” Nat says, flicking the map to the small warehouse to serve as a temporary base.

“Call them. Get them there.”

“I don’t know if splitting up is such a good idea.” Sam says, voicing his concern for probably all of them.

“Rhodey?” You ask Tony, ignoring Sam for now.

“Called away. He won’t be here.”

“Nat?” You lean towards her again, staring out at the darkening horizon.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that your heartbreak made you sleep straight through breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Your stomach aches and gurgles, but you ignore it. No one cares that you didn’t eat. You don’t care either.

“Get us to that safe zone.” You order and she happily obeys.

Steve doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say to make all of this better. If he hadn’t insisted on pleasuring you outside then maybe Bucky wouldn’t have shut you out so harshly.

He knows that Bucky doesn’t mean it. The no is tentative. It had been spoken in haste and in jealousy and anger.

Steve’s already kind of changed his mind. Not really, but before Tony had called about Aaron, he’d thought he could see Bucky wavering.

Bucky loves you, and as much as he hates that you love him, Steve, he can’t fight that. Steve can’t understand Bucky’s resistance.

Of course, Steve doesn’t want to share you either. You were his firsts. Maybe not officially, but in every way other than sexual, you’d been his. You’d fallen asleep in his arms before Bucky’s. You’d stretched out on his bed and spent hours reading or watching shows or movies with him before Bucky was there to do all that with you.

He’d taken you on your first mission. He’d patched up your first wounds. He’d kissed you—yes, he had though you’d been asleep and didn’t know about it—way before he did it to coax Bucky’s jealousy.

He’d held you when you cried. He’d laughed at your jokes. He’d loved you in every way possible without telling you out loud before Bucky even came into the picture.

No. Steve doesn’t want to share you. But you love Bucky. How can he deny you what you want?

Bucky also needs you. More than Steve thinks even Bucky knows.

He needs to give in. He needs to hold onto you. If Steve needs to step aside, he will. If he has to listen to you and Bucky make love for the rest of his life, then he’ll do that. So long as you don’t leave.

Steve understands Bucky. More than he might think. Steve knows that you’re his light. He knows that Bucky can’t really live without you.

He hates to see Bucky struggle. So, he gave in. He surrendered. For you. For Bucky.

While you’d cried and then fallen into a restless sleep, Steve had promised his best friend that he wouldn’t touch you again. He’d stay away. He’d leave when you were a little better and could handle his leaving, and he’d stop interfering.

Bucky had only stared. Searching. Angry, but listening.

Steve can see the admiration in Bucky’s eyes as you take charge right now. You hadn’t been given this mission to lead but you’d taken up the reigns on your own and dove headfirst. You’re so strong. In so many ways.

As you cross towards them again, a dusty cloud of years’ worth of muck kicked up as you move over the filthy warehouse floor, Steve stands up straighter. Bucky across from him, leaning against the steel support beam trying to look as casual as he can with his hands shoved into his pockets, also stands straighter despite his attempts at playing it cool.

Like him, Steve knows that Bucky’s vowed to put all this drama aside. For the mission. For you.

“We hold out until we all reach our targets. We attack at the same time and take who we can. How sure are we that Aaron is going to be at the base and not on the ship?” Steve hasn’t spoken since he boarded the jet.

He’s trying to step back but so is Bucky. That’s not what he wanted.

“There’s no way to know. We spotted him the one time but haven’t seen him since. He could be on either site or neither.” Nat says, standing tall with her arms crossed over her full chest.

“How will we split the teams? Let’s get this going. I want to rip some heads.” Thor declares and you look at him then appraise the rest of the group.

Steve stands a little taller as your eyes scan him and then you speak. “I’ll take point on the base in the city. Tony? You think you can take the ship team?”

“Is that a serious question?” He quips.

“Good.”

“Bruce, you should go with Tony. They’ll need the extra muscle on the ship. It’s a large space.” Steve thinks that’s a good all.

Even with the Hulk tamed, Bruce can throw his weight around well.

“Nat, Wanda, will the two of you also go with Tony?” You order, and before you can speak again, Bucky cuts in.

“Me too.” He says, voice hard and quiet.

Steve can see the uncertain shift in your eyes. The pain that flashes out at Bucky as he stares you down.

For a few horrible seconds, Steve doesn’t breathe. Will this break you? Bucky hasn’t said a word to you. He hasn’t reached out. He’s barely looked at you.

Steve caught you struggling on the jet and now Bucky doesn’t even want to be on mission with you?

The way your mouth opens as if to speak then shuts again with a flex of your jaw, Steve knows that you’re trying hard to keep it together.

“Fine.” You say, your voice hard now too.

What the fuck is Bucky doing? He’s going to drive you away. Is that his plan? He’ll break you. Can’t he see that?

“The rest of you are with me.” You say, disappointment on the furthest fringes of your tone.

Steve knows you’d rather have Bucky with you. Yet, he takes comfort in knowing that he’ll be able to keep his eye on you. Just like old times. He’ll have your back.

Things do not go well. It’s almost as if you’ve offended God…or the Gods. Your mind shoots to Thor chaotically as everything falls apart.

There is no one on the ship.

No one.

Bruce, in controlled Hulk form, Tony, Bucky, Nat, and Wanda search the ship as quickly as possible with the help of Tony’s thermal scans.

The base on the other hand?

It’s packed. There are more guys than the five of you can handle.

For a little bit in the beginning, when Thor barrels through a large heavy iron door to expose what must be nearly three hundred workers in the largest room of the base, you think maybe all isn’t lost.

Thor can handle these guys no problem. You’ve seen him take on more. Worse. Stronger. Faster.

Then the twins show up. White dark chocolate skin, stark platinum blonde hair, piercing red eyes, and evil sneers create a terrifying image.

You’ve never seen them before. Illuminated collars around their necks that glow venom green come undone and then they chase Thor up through the roof and into the dark night skies leaving you, Steve, and Vision to fight fast and hard.

Vision grabs thugs at random, by the neck, then flings them up into the air to watch them drop. He flies down, sweeping long crippling tackles through ten, fifteen guys at once. You and Steve do your best to hold them off.

Steve fairs better, his strength super. You’re skilled, very much so, but you can only move as fast as your body will let you.

Each of the twins is followed by a stream of sunshine yellow light that seems to originate from their hands and feet. This propels them upwards, or that’s what you’d originally guessed.

It reminds you of Wanda but not exactly. The light is too thick. Solid. Like those lasers from Tron but that’s not possible because that’s just a movie.

And yet, when Sam goes tumbling out of the sky as he attempts to help Thor fight the twins, his wings hit a line of light and impossibly, inexplicably, the wings are severed. Halfway along their length, the left wing is clipped, and Sam goes tumbling down towards the ground. Too high. Too far.

Vision breaks away from you and Steve to intercept his fall, but he’s suddenly tackled out of flight by one of the twins, streaming across the large room and into a wave of thugs.

“Sam! Your chute!” You shout, scared and desperate for him as he falls.

He grows closer and when he talks you can hear the wind whistling past him.

He’ll die.

“I’m trying. It’s jammed!” He cries, his voice strong and controlled despite the panic that must be coursing through him.

There are grunts and pulls, punches, kicks, the occasional gunshot, as the thugs continue to attack you.

You fight harder. You somehow make yourself move faster.

“Steve, catch him!” You shout, desperate for Sam.

“We’re almost there.” Tony’s voice comes over your comms. He’s within range.

The hesitancy in Steve’s choice to do as you ask is so quick that no one would have noticed it. You see it because you know him. You love him. You know what he’s thinking.

I won’t leave you alone. He thought. Then he probably played the argument over in his head and realized that you’d dive underneath Sam and kill yourself in the process if it would mean his survival.

What other choice does he have than to do as you ask?

He sprints off towards Sam, leaping through a large broken window on the second floor. You glance him as he catches Sam, crashing into the ground outside.

Sixty thugs break away, race towards them to take advantage of the fall.

“Vision get back to Y/N.” Steve orders.

Vision is busy. You can see him shooting yellow beams at thug after thug. You hear the sing of his light, the sizzle of it’s burn. You smell the char of skin accompanied by the cries of pain.

He’s all the way on the other side of the large factory-like room.

“Vision!” Steve shouts, his fear for you more prominent than he probably means it to be.

You’re too busy to respond or react to his struggle. You’re dripping with sweat. Beads of effort build along your temples and forehead and trickle down along your skin, coating it with grime as dust is kicked up by your feet and that of your opponents.

You’re huffing with exhaustion already. Your arms are tired. Your legs are weak from taking so many hits. Blocking and returning. Your legs are suddenly yanked out from beneath you.

You scream.

“Y/N!” Steve calls out.

“I’m going.” Thor assures him that he’s on his way to you. “Gah!”

He’s knocked off course by the twin he’s been fighting, unable to get to you.

You get back to your feet, blocking punches and kicks before one lands hard on your chest. It sends you flying back. You gasp for air and loud heavy thud echoes around you.

The ringing in your ears is so distracting that although you lift up your hands to fight, you blink hard and try to remember where you are.

Someone throws a punch, a no one. You block it with your left forearm, then throw a hard right hook. It’s too strong, your arm moving lazily towards its target with zero control in strength.

The movement spins you to your left and you stumble backwards until strong arms catch you.

Your heart soars.

Bucky. You think with relief then shift your head back to look at your man to find your mark.

Aaron, Hawaiian God. Mass murderer. Crime lord. Not Bucky. Not Steve.

He smirks at you, gleeful that he’s caught you. The thugs around you move away, running towards Vision and Sam and Steve.

You can hear people calling you on your earpiece, but your head won’t focus.

Why?

There’s a flash of a memory. Your head violently hitting a large steel support beam. The explosion in your brain as you’re concussed, and green eyes transfix your addled mind as you pass out.

You dream of a snake with sea-green eyes. It hisses and laughs. Ssss-sss-ssssss.

Bucky can feel Bruce’s loud cry reverberate in his chest. It shakes his heart and reminds him that it’s there. Not like he could ever really forget.

Hearing Steve’s panic over the comms trying to get any one of his team members back to where you’d been fighting fills Bucky with dread. It chokes his heart. It aches painfully with a fear unlike he’s ever known.

Where are you?

He scans the room as Bruce stampedes through, swinging and making bodies fly. He tears through them like they were made of paper and he can begin to hear shouts of fear. The large group of thugs begin to run, making for exits and windows and holes in the walls.

Tony flies off to help Thor with what looks like twin men, sickly thing with dark skin and glowing eyes. Wanda and Vision join him while Nat, Steve, Bucky, and Sam meet in the middle of the large factory room where you’d been fighting.

“Where is she?!” Steve asks, screaming desperate and fearful.

Bucky’s stomach twists at the sound of terror in Steve’s cry because it’s his cry too.

“Where is she?! Nat? Do you see her?” Steve is fighting through the crowd, Sam pushing and punching.

Nat kicking and spinning her way towards the spot where Steve is standing.

“No.” Nat replies, grunting as she catches a thug in the chest with her knee then plunges a knife into his thigh as he tries to kick.

“Sam?”

“Nothing this way, Steve.”

“Bucky?”

But Bucky can’t answer his voice is caught in his throat. It’s a lump, building rapidly into grief and denial as he tries to convince his mind that what he thinks has happened hasn’t really happened.

He angrily grabs a thug’s throat as he runs by. He squeezes, the plates in his metal arm groaning and shifting as he glares up at the low life.

“Where is she?” He says low and angry. There’s death in his tone.

The thug claws at Bucky’s hand unable to fight it. He shakes his head and Bucky can’t help it. He squeezes too hard. He hears a sickening crack and then drops the limp body to the floor.

Steve finds him and he looks over Bucky’s shoulder as Bucky catches another thug.

“Where is she?” He asks again.

“Buck?” Steve asks, desperate for reassurance.

The second thug also has no answers for him. Bucky squeezes again.

As this body falls to the ground, Steve reaches out to turn Bucky towards him.

Bucky lets him. He meets his eyes, Steve standing with both hands gripping the sides of Bucky’s shoulders. He’s heaving, breathing hard and heavy from his fight to find you. He’s sweating and dirty and he fought hard while Bucky was stuck on some decoy ship doing nothing and letting you get taken.

“Buck?” Steve asks, searching his ice blues for that assurance that everything is going to be okay.

Bucky can’t give it to him, and he lets the mask fall for a second as he sees the same heartache and agony mirrored in Steve’s face. He opens his mouth to speak, to say something that might alleviate this black cloud over them as the last of the thugs are chased out by Bruce.

Instead his lower lip quivers and Steve falls to his knees.

“No.” Steve gasps.

“He took her.” Bucky realizes. He knew it the moment that you stopped responding to their calls. He knew it when you sent Steve to catch Sam. He knew that you wouldn’t be here when he arrived, and he can’t believe he left you alone.

If he’d been here, if he hadn’t been so stubborn, if he’d been willing to just try to accept that Steve—this broken man clutching at his feet as he struggles to breathe and what must be an astounding feeling of failure—loved you just as much as he did and that he had as much right to show it as he himself did, then you’d still be here.

You’d have had both of them at your side and when Steve had gone to save Sam, Bucky would have been there to keep you safe.

“No.” Steve cries. Really cries. His voice hitches. His hands are vices around Bucky’s ankles as he clings desperately to the only piece of you left. “Buck…no.”

Bucky falls to his knees to but to straighten Steve up. He can’t have him like this.

“We’ll get her back, Steve.” He promises him.

“We don’t even know where to start looking.” Steve points out and Bucky can see the dead in his eyes.

Now he can see what you’ve been meaning, what you’ve been saying Steve is to you. For the first time since this whole mess started, Bucky can see how much more claim Steve has on you and strangely, it doesn’t hurt.

It makes him feel better that someone on this team will be more desperate than him to find you. Someone else on this team will sacrifice life and limb to get you back.

“You’re not alone, Steve.” Bucky tells him, giving him a shake. “We’ll get her back. Together.”

Someone is talking. Someone is speaking directly to you as if you’re capable of listening. Never mind the fact that you’ve been completely unconscious until this moment.

Aaron.

“-trust easily. It’s nothing personal. I just need to make sure that you can’t punch me. Are the straps too tight?” He asks, deep booming voice actually concerned.

You feel tugs at your wrists as he checks large nylon straps. They’re thick and to Steve and Bucky and almost all of your friends they would be nothing but to you, a human, with no real super strength, they’re enough.

“Where-?”

“You’re on my ship.” He replies, a smile in his voice.

It’s like his statement brings to attention the gentle swaying, the smell of brine, and the groan of metal in water.

It creeps you out how he sounds like he’s making conversation with an old friend. Someone he can joke around with and have some fun.

In his defense, the last time you’d seen him face-to-face, he’d been about to eat you out.

“There was no one on the ship.” You say, confused.

“Oh, not that ship. That was a fake. I put it there in case someone like you and your team came lookin’ for me.” Aaron explains.

You open your eyes and the dim light of a light far away lets you see him. He’s big. Bigger than you remember but that might just be because it’s been a while. Tall. Beautiful copper tanned skin. Long wavy brown hair. Longer than Bucky’s. Tips bleached from too much sun. His beard is thick, well-kept, but longer than when you last saw him. Fuller.

He’s shirtless, tendrils of soft black chest hair scattered over his hard, flexing pectorals.

He’s slouched. Completely relaxed. The flesh of his stomach folded over though even with that small bit of extra muscle and tissue, you can see the chiseled shape of his abs.

Leaning forward, he spreads his legs wide wearing dark pants that look fairly new. He places his hands between his legs. He grips the edge of the chair, curling his shoulders in as he appraises you. He’s too at ease.

Is he not scared you’ll be found? Are you seriously in trouble here?

“Why didn’t you tell me that you’re an Avenger? I guess I should have put it together when I woke up the next morning and I couldn’t find my drive. You cost me a lot of money on that Cayman trip.” He informs you.

You stare at him, assessing your options quickly. How can you get out of this?

“How long have I-?”

“Two weeks. You know, this is the fifth time you’ve asked me that. I guess you hit your head pretty hard. I don’t have a doctor on board but as soon as I can get you one, I will.” He promises.

Why is he being so nice.

“You’re new to them, right? Haven’t been part of them long? I’ve never seen you before.” He gets up and moves towards a small metal table bolted down into the floor and against the half black, half red metal wall.

“Yes.” You lie, never mind that you’ve been on many missions with Steve and Nat and the rest of the team. You’d just been kept out of the big ones.

Stupid protective, lovable jerks.

“I knew there was something…that night in my place?” He moves back to you holding a small glass of water.

Your body craves it, almost aches for it.

As he holds it to your lips you push yourself up as much as you can take frantic sips.

You cough, choking on it a little. He takes the glass away and you hate him for it.

“Take it easy. I’ve got plenty of water.” He places the edge back against your lips and this time you’re careful. “So, I don’t know what drug you used to get me to pass out that night but did we-?”

Seriously?! You think, this guy is actually asking you if you slept with him?

Inspiration strikes and as he pulls the now empty glass away from your lips, you nod slowly.

“We did.” You tell him.

He believes you. He puts the glass on a smaller table also bolted down to the floor beside your infirmary bed then licks his lips and leans in closer, hovering over you with is arms on either side of your chest.

“Why did you leave?” He asks, desperate to understand.

“I-I was scared they’d come looking for me. I used to do things for bad people, and they don’t trust me.” The lies come easy. Doing bad things for bad people isn’t a lie, but it’s been much longer than you’re making it seem.

“I can keep you safe.” He sighs, reaching up to smooth the hair away from your face.

It clings to your temples, clammy skin coated in sweat. This is when you realize that you’re not exactly well.

“I’m scared.” You shudder, letting your real fear for your health surface and make your words true.

“Sshh, shhh, I’ve got you, baby.” He traces the shape of your shoulders.

You don’t want to push it too soon because it’ll make him suspicious, but he’s already so primed for it. Fearfully, you throw it out there to see if he’ll take the bait. You pray that Bucky won’t be angry at you for using this tactic that he hates so much.

Then you remember that Bucky is mad at you and that he probably doesn’t care about what you do.

The urge to survive this almost slips away but you know you’re better than that. You can live in a world where Bucky hates you, so long as you know he’s out there. You push through the depression that threatens to overtake you and stick to your plan.

“Can I hold you?” You wonder, pulling against the straps on your wrists. “I want you.”

Voice soft as silk, alluring, and pleading. You shift your hips, rubbing your thighs together as if you’re actually itching to have him fill you again—never mind that he never did.

He takes note of this, his hand wandering down your side and onto your hip where his eyes stay glued as he watches you squirm.

“Please?” You beg and he likes that so much he give a guttural grunt as he looks back up at you and climbs up onto your bed.

You feel frail and breakable. His large body looming over yours sends your heart into overdrive. Will he hurt you?

He touches you, and you try not to flinch away. You make sure to shift your disgust into desire, letting him cup your mound despite the way it makes you want to throw up. That could also be the malnutrition.

“You want this baby?” He asks, wafting hot breath against the cool clammy skin of your throat.

“Yeah.” You lie, hoping that it sounds real. “Let me hold you.”

You strain against your straps and he sits back, removing his hand from between your legs.

You’re filled with relief as he undoes your left hand strap and because you don’t want him to be suspicious, you use that hand to grab his shoulder and yank him down against your chest. You wrap it around him, holding him to you as his lips find yours and you kiss him hard.

As hard as you can anyway.

The taste of his tongue is salted and sour. You nearly gag but instead you groan. You need to get him off of you, get the rest of the straps off, get out the door, and up onto the deck of the ship. Then you can look for a plane or another boat…something. Anything.

You’ll float home if you have to.

As his tongue delves more deeply into his mouth, the heat of his skin bringing shocking attention to the lack of it in you, you suddenly bite down.

Aaron gasps and tries to pull back, but you’ve got a solid hold on him. He pushes against your shoulders and you follow him up as best you can as your teeth dig in deeper.

Your teeth finally snap shut. Aaron screams in pain and you taste rust.

Aaron scrambles off of you and falls onto the floor, kicking and pushing away from your bed and you spit out the pink wiggling flesh. Your mouth is flooded with blood and it drips from your mouth as you quickly undo the straps holding you down.

When you’re finally on your feet, you wobble, but not because of the sway of the ship. You’re weaker than you realized.

“Shit.” You gasp and grab a small metal tray beside your bed.

Aaron doesn’t see the hit coming and you knock him out saving him from the pain of his half-tongue but also giving yourself time to get away.

Weakly you run out of the room giving the hallways you run through quick looks before you venture into them.

You’ve been expecting to encounter thugs but there’s no one. Only empty rooms and the rotting smell of fish.

You have to stop to rest when you find the stairs and catch your breath. Two seconds is all you spare because the fear of Aaron waking up and coming after you is overwhelming.

You scrape up your bare feet as you climb the stairs as quickly as you can. At the top you find a heavy steel doorway with one of those large circular handles to seal compartments in ships from flooding.

Weakly you manage to turn it and hot salty air fills your lungs as the door falls open. Gray overcast skies and black blue water surround the ship.

You push it, itching for freedom and as you tumble out your foot catches on the bottom threshold. You fall hard, feeling a break somewhere in your leg.

You cry out, hoping that all of Aaron’s thugs are not up here.

“Y/N!”

No. It’s impossible. Your eyes strain against the bright light of the day and try to see where that voice came from.

Halfway down the much smaller ship’s deck but still as big as an oil tanker, you see Bucky fling a black mass of body overboard.

He races towards you at the same time and you frantically push yourself up onto your feet.

Forgetting your brand-new break, you collapse when you try to put your weight on your right foot but Bucky’s already there and he catches you. His arms are hot and tight around you, the smell of him—bitter sweat mixed with his usual clean linen and sandalwood musk—is intoxicating. You can hardly believe he’s real.

“I found you.” He gasps, shocked as if he’d never expected to see you again. “I found you.”

You look for his face, wanting nothing more than to stare into his steel blue eyes. He pushes your hair back, almost like Aaron had but there’s a desperate love in his hands as he holds your face and you want him to kiss you and hold you and tell you that you’re safe.

He does one of those.

He scoops you up suddenly and impossibly fast he carries you across the ship’s deck, winding around containers and piping until he reaches the stern and you can see the large black jet.

“Steve!” Bucky calls, and you’re so confused but Steve is suddenly there too. His arms are around you, and as he falls to the ground onto his knees, Bucky moves with him and carefully places you in Steve’s arms.

Steve holds you close, against his chest, clinging to you as he sobs.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry.” He cries but you don’t want him to be sorry.

Your heart soars as he pulls your lips up to meet his and then he buries his head into the side of your neck as he continues to sob, his blonde head of hair damp from the spray of the sea.

Bucky, also kneeling beside you, leans in to rest his forehead against your temple.

“I found you.” He repeats.

You turn to look at him, searching his face for explanation but he kisses you instead. Softly massaging your lips before he trails loving kisses down along your cheeks.

Then he wraps his arms around you and Steve.

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someone-elses-star · 6 years ago

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The 100 6x09: What You Take With You Personal Narrative

Another two week hiatus that absolutely killed me! Thank goodness for the Beliza pics from the recent con or I would absolutely be drowning! What did you guys think of the sneak peaks we got? I’m excited to see the new dynamic between Octavia and Gabriel! I also want to know if she’s faking not remembering anything or not. Plus, we get so much Bellamy/Jo!Clarke action tonight! I definitely don’t think we’ll get Clarke back this episode, but I’m hoping for 6x10 when the Blake siblings are reunited! :)

Alas, the episode is about to begin, so let’s get started:

It’s coming on! I’m so cool with Eliza introducing all the episodes.

Eliza is such a great actress. She does so well with separating her Josephine voice from her Clarke voice.

Aww... clean and young looking Octavia. Gotta love the glam that the anomaly provides!

Does Octavia really remember nothing? Seems strange....

Gabriel is pissed.....Why does he want to know so much about the anomaly?

Help....? That can’t be good

What’s in the creepy boxxxx

What the hell is Gabriel doing?

He’s going to get her.....high? Ahhh so that’s how she is going to see Bloodreina.

So the anomaly doesn’t heal...but it passes through time possibly....then erases memories? Interesting....

So there could be truth in the time travel theories that have been floating around?

Can we really trust Gabriel, though? I mean....he has been lying about who he is.

Damn....that was quick. Where can I get that stuff? Lol

Nice glowing boxes. Red light. Green light. And she decides to go towards the red? That’s such an Octavia move.

Yes, let’s pick the angry looking box that is obviously going to lead you towards your worst memories.

Marie is such a great actress. What did we do to get such great actors and actresses in this show? Did someone sacrifice a virgin or something?

Echhh.....creepy new Marcus---Marcus Kane II if you will---I do not like it! SO ICKY!

I mean....he’s hot....but....him and Abby possibly being romantic in the future is just a kinda gross concept.

Is anyone else sick of Abby? She has gone way too far.

There love story has never really been healthy in my opinion, but this is too gross and too far.

Ewww don’t kiss! Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!

Yes, everything is wrong, Marcus. People are not meant to switch fucking bodies!

Yay! Bellamy and Jo!Clarke!

Aww Bellamy can’t stand seeing Clarke in pain in any aspect.

You tell her Bellamy!

“I guess you just care about her more.” Well that is dropping some more truth bombs on Bellamy!

Commercial Break #1 Thoughts: WOW! Josephine dropping the truth bombs on Bellamy! Everyone is calling him out on this! This has got to mean something for Bellarke! IT HAS TO! We usually only get like one of these comments per season about the two of them putting each other first but.....now we’re getting this like twice in two episodes? AMAZING!!! If this is anything like what the rest of the episode is going to be like we are going to be served a MEAL! So thrilled! On the opposite side, Kabby 2.0 is creepy and I’m grossed out. Who’s with me?

Ohhh we’re in a cave! And Josephine is such a fucking priss.

Seriously Josephine is going to get herself killed.

Bellamy is such a boss. Though is he going to get them killed? Doubtful. But his heart is definitely leading over his head.

Oh my gosh. He just said Doubtful after I did! It’s fate!

Can she really hear them now? OMG!!!

What is he going to say?

OMG he was always speaking to her! In the trailer he was speaking to her and not just metaphorically or whatever! WHAT A FUCKING TREAT!

Was it worth it? Probably not.

Eeww....the host had a wife....and still willingly sacrificed his body? Wow these people are brainwashed!

Ohhh what is the truth?! Reveal it Kane! Drop some truths!

Kane is our King! Even if he is in a new body.

Woop there it is! This is the only time where Raven’s condescension this season isn’t bothering me.

INDRA IS BACK!!!!

I forgot Indra and Kane were friends! This is awesome! I missed Indra so much! Is she going to ask about Octavia? Is she?

Commercial Break #2 Thoughts: After the first commercial all of the commercials come so quickly. But we seriously got info that Clarke can hear them! And it seems legit! And Bellamy in the trailer was always just talking to her!!! I love this so much! I’m so happy! But what worries me is the fact that Clarke’s brain---according to the episode sneak peaks we got with Jason and this episode’s writer--has only a few hours left. So....hopefully they get her into the anomaly or something soon? If it will heal her...but if it is just a time anomaly will it actually fix her or just kill her brain sooner because of a time jump? I’m concerned, confused, and cautiously hopeful.

And we are back with Octavia and Gabriel! He better hear his call from his people! We need him to save Clarke!

Octavia versus Bloodreina! FINALLY!

Oh....no....Pike. Interesting.....

We are really getting down to the deepest set of what turned Octavia so dark. Intense

Did anyone else miss Pike’s actor like I did. I mean....I didn’t really care for Pike, but I love the actor who plays him!

Ohh...playing the Bellamy card with her. Ouch.

Of course she hates herself. She was forced to do a lot of shitty things and she did a lot of shitty things on her own. She’s a bit fucked up.

Wow! Pike is really laying into her. Her mind is almost as bad as Clarke’s.

There’s Bloodreina!

Pike is Octavia’s good side of her conscious? Interesting.

Lincoln!!! I don’t want to see this again! Don’t show me his death again! NOOOOOO!!!!!!

Hmmm....but Octavia still protects her mind Pike. Good for her!

You kill Bloodreina, Octavia! I know you can do it!

Damn. That kill shot came quick.

Aww Gabriel is wiping her forehead! That’s sweet!

Commercial Break #3 Thoughts: So....that was intense. But we don’t really know what happened in the anomaly still? Or will it come back to her now that she fought against her demons/Bloodreina? I still think the fight was kind of quick. Even if Octavia has been continuously thinking about getting redemption for awhile now, it still seems like a quick internal battle. I’m sure she will have to fight harder on the outside for redemption with Bellamy and the others, but it wouldn’t have killed us to get a longer fight. However, I will be okay with this shorter fight if it means longer scenes with Bellamy trying to save Clarke.

INDRA!!! Because she loves you.....yes drop those truth bombs girlfriend!

Hmmm....Indra....what are you saying. We need you on our side!

Ohhh.....Raven/Indra/Kane II team! Love it!

YAY Bellamy and Jo!Clarke interaction!

At least she knows that bringing her back was a big mistake sorta.

OHHHH what Clarke/Bellamy truths is she about to drop?!!?

Bellamy’s hope is so cute! I hope it continues and he’s right!

Haha continue to be confident if it pisses her off Bellamy!

Bellamy looks so hurt that Clarke’s body is being hurt.

Uhhh....ohhhh....They know!

Is....Clarke back?

Oh!!! How is this possible! This is such a great fanfic....I mean episode. LMAO!

Commercial Break #4 Thoughts: So....now that she gave control back to Clarke....does that mean that she can take it back or does Clarke have to give it back? I mean....Clarke’s brain is obviously still dying, but will this make it better? Worse? I just can’t believe we just got Clarke back so suddenly! I’m so crazed! I’m so much more hopeful now! Is this going to make me a clown in the end? I don’t know....but I refuse to let go of this hope! Clarke is BACK!

Wait...she is running towards motorcycles...is she playing the part of Josephine or....is she actually Clarke? Yup....actually Clarke.

Ohhhh....So Clarke does have to give back control. So cool.

I’m loving Clarke on the motorcycle! SUPER FUCKING HOT!!!

Clarke and Josephine interaction, and Clarke sassing her! I LOVE IT!

Ohhh....Octavia seeking redemption is hot! And....they just heard the radio calls.

Octavia wants to save her people!

“Things are about to get weird...” Lmao....I love Gabriel! Best line of the night, probs!

Commercial Break #5 Thoughts: So confirmed Clarke is back. We get to see Josephine and Clarke interact with each other outside of her brain. So thrilled that Clarke is back though! SO HAPPY! And Octavia actively seeking redemption, and Gabriel pretty much being cool with it despite him wanting info about the anomaly. That is legit wise-old man vibes! I’m digging it, Gabriel. You’re awesome! I take back not trusting you. If you don’t do something stupid...I’m just going to love you.

Indra is such a badass. We should have brought her back sooner.

Ohhh...are we losing Marcus again so soon? That’s sad....but it makes a good point to this whole show. I really think letting him die would be better for all of this. It proves the point that taking over someone else’s body and living forever is never right. Sometimes people just have to die and stay dead.

Ohhh....she is seeing his old face! I love it! Or are we just seeing it? I don’t care! It’s amazing!

This is the perfect way for us to say goodbye to Marcus! I LOVE IT!

I’ll miss you Marcus! But sometimes dying is for a good cause!

“This is how we get our humanity back.”

I’m crying!!! May we meet again, Marcus Kane. Your fight is over.

So....that episode ended abruptly. But at least we only have one week until next episode!

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dinchtgirlie · 6 years ago

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Miraculous Meta - Mari & Adrien

I binged all the episodes of Miraculous and had to make this analysis. If you care about Adrienette Meta, feel free to take a peek under the cut. If you don’t, that’s cool, too. I just had a lot of feelings, yanno?

Thanks for reading.

[Marinette]

Didn’t have a crush on Adrien until AFTER Season One’s Origins.

She didn’t instantly recognize him when he first entered the classroom. If anything, she was obsessed with Gabriel and his fashion line first.

Completely wrote Adrien off as soon as she knew he was BFF’s with Chloe, her childhood bully.

Fell for Adrien once he confessed he had no part in Chloe’s gum incident, that he’s new to the whole School Scene, doesn’t have (many) actual friends, and offered her his umbrella because she had to walk home in the rain.

2. Consistently denies all romantic feelings she has for Adrien because she’s embarrassed.

Doesn’t JUST like him because he’s pretty—she thinks he’s a sweetheart (compassionate, honest, thoughtful of others) and a badass (plays piano, models, speaks Chinese, talented fencer).

Understands that her infatuation/obsession with Adrien IS, at times, creepy/crazy.

Tries to move on from her feelings (because she understands Adrien only sees her as a friend) but yo-yo’s (PUN) back and forth due to him being HER VERY FIRST CRUSH EVER and peer pressure.

He’s such an important person to her, platonically AND romantically, so she has a hard time giving him up—especially since she hasn’t even (successfully) confessed her actual feelings to him yet.

This attachment is completely understandable, and she’s definitely made more progress than Adrien (in terms of his obsession with Ladybug and refusing to take ‘No’ for an answer).

Has gotten slightly better at confessing her feelings, but unless she flat out tells Adrien, “I love you as more than a friend,” she’s permanently cemented herself in the Friend-Zone.

3. She doesn’t understand/realize she’s essentially Friend-Zoned herself.

Mari never confessed to making the blue scarf for Adrien’s birthday (The Bubbler). She was more worried about Adrien’s happiness (since he believes the gift is from his father).

If Adrien had known Mari was the one to make him such a sweet gift, their relationship definitely would’ve developed differently.

Mari never signed her Valentine’s Day card (Dark Cupid), so Adrien assumes it’s from Ladybug instead of a more obvious candidate (like someone from school).

When he compares his homework notes to the Valentine (Stormy Weather 2), he excludes Mari from being the sender because she insisted she wasn’t interested in him romantically and he believes there’s something going on between her and Luka.

Mari consistently tells Adrien that she’s his friend (which is true, but not THE WHOLE truth).

Adrien does genuinely believe Mari’s a good friend, but he only ever uses that “she’s just a friend!” excuse WITH OTHER PEOPLE when they question his feelings toward her (most likely to protect himself and his own feelings).

4. She can’t accept that Adrien could be Chat Noir.

Mari legit physically and mentally can’t accept that Adrien and Chat Noir may be the same person.

Even though she loves Chat and considers him to be one of her closest friends, she can’t accept Chat as a potential romantic partner because they’re superheroes and she likes Adrien too much.

5. She’s an insecure teenager.

Adrien and Chat both have strong feelings for Ladybug, but they’ve constantly proven to Mari, as a civilian, that they only care for her platonically.

Mari can’t live up to Ladybug’s reputation as Marinette, even though she has essentially become Ladybug in and out of her suit. She believes that if anyone knew her secret, they wouldn’t believe in Ladybug any more. This sense of dread remains one of her greatest fears (Sandboy).

Mari was emotionally bullied almost her entire life by Chloe. Even though Chloe has progressed (some), and Mari can handle her better than before, she’s now being bullied by Lila too (Chameleon).

[Adrien]

1. He’s been isolated almost his entire life.

Prior to his mother’s disappearance, the only friend he’s ever known since before attending high school is Chloe. That says a lot right there.

Gabriel doesn’t let Adrien leave the house or have a social life unless he says so.

His greatest fear is being locked up (Sandboy / Weredad).

He’s constantly emotionally neglected by his father.

His personal space is usually invaded by Chloe, and given his body language, he’s never overly happy about it.

2. He didn’t have a crush on Ladybug until AFTER Season One’s Origins.

Adrien developed feelings for Ladybug once she accepted her role as a superhero, stood up to Hawk Moth, and declared Paris safe under her and Chat’s protection. This infatuation has continued ever since they became official partners.

Refuses to accept that Ladybug won’t return his feelings.

He’s temporarily cold/mean toward her whenever she rejects him and is often jealous/threatened by those who come between him and Ladybug (Copycat, the new heroes).

Thanks to Oblivio, Adrien will never give up on Ladybug because he believes she will, one day, return his feelings.

As far as other potential crushes go:

Based on Adrien’s interactions with Chloe, it’s obvious he considers their relationship to be familial/platonic. He doesn’t return her romantic feelings.

Adrien most likely has an unrequited crush on Mari.

He believes she’s the school’s Everyday Ladybug (Mayura), unbelievably awesome (throughout the show), and gradually accepts her fangirl and quirky behavior because he values her friendship so much.

He’s made several attempts to get the truth about Mari’s feelings from her, and she (intentionally and accidentally) Friend-Zones herself every damn time (Frozer, Troublemaker, Stormy Weather 2).

Given how often Adrien’s rejected by Ladybug, he’d rather keep Mari as a friend than risk confessing his feelings and losing her.

Adrien didn’t think Chat Noir was Mari’s type—suggesting he was insecure about how she’d feel about him if he was openly more like Chat (Weredad).

Definitely attracted to Kagami, but way too shy to actually do anything about it on his own (Frozer).

If Ladybug wasn’t in the picture, they’d definitely be dating.

Kagami understands Adrien on a personal level, similar to Chloe (isolated, neglected) and unlike Mari (loving family).

3. He’s an insecure teenager.

Although Adrien’s definitely confident in his looks and abilities, he’s continuously rejected by Ladybug and Friend-Zoned by Mari. He’s also too shy to handle Kagami’s bold personality.

He’s used to being in the spotlight, so he has a hard time differentiating between genuine and fan-crazed praise. This is evident whenever he’s complemented by ‘fans’ vs. Mari—when it’s people he doesn’t know, Adrien is embarrassed/distant (Gorizilla). When it’s Mari, he’s HAPPY (Troublemaker).

Adrien has no actual control over his own life.

He's regularly emotionally neglected by his dad and physically violated because he has no privacy, and is often stalked and touched all the time without his consent (Gorizilla, Chloe and Lila).

[Conclusion]

1. Mari deserves to be in a relationship with Luka.

Luka loves Mari for who she is and not because she’s Ladybug.

Mari was so worried Luka was like Adrien (just a friend) until Silencer. Now that she knows he’s actually in love with her, she has a chance at being happy with a boy who’s capable of returning her feelings. THIS. IS. IMPORTANT.

Luka’s a positive influence and a great friend for Mari.

If anything, I hope Mari spends more time with him so she can learn how to be comfortable with herself and insecurities.

Mari and Luka are incredibly synced. Luka’s also kind and patient with her feelings, and she can be herself around him. THIS. IS. IMPORTANT.

Luka’s friendship and potential relationship will help Mari mature FOR THE BETTER.

A lot of people seem to forget that Mari and Adrien are OPPOSITES (she’s loud/hotheaded/aggressive while he’s quiet/coolheaded/passive—and it’s flipped when they’re Ladybug and Chat Noir).

If anyone has to make the “official civilian move,” it’s got to be Mari—which she’s proven time and time again that she’s just not ready for . . . but that’s OKAY.

They’re both teenagers and they BOTH deserve room to grow and explore their feelings/identities. Sometimes that involves getting rejected and being with other people.

2. Animaestro is a perfect example as to why Mari needs to let Adrien go.

Mari was willing to conspire with Chloe to get rid of Kagami just so they could be with Adrien. This is a major red flag and the obvious signs of peer pressure.

Although Mari (thankfully) understood that her behavior was unacceptable, she never apologized nor admitted to what she had done to Kagami. If Adrien knew Mari conspired with Chloe against Kagami, he would be absolutely devastated/disappointed in her.

Mari only dislikes Kagami because she’s close to Adrien.

Mari’s obviously jealous and insecure because Kagami is on Adrien’s level. THIS IS NORMAL.

In Riposte, Kagami believes Adrien and Mari like each other. She was even looking forward to meeting and being Mari’s friend.

What the hell happened to that development? Oh, that’s right, Kagami believes Mari is toying with Adrien’s feelings (See Frozer). LET THEM BE FRIENDS, YOU COWARDS.

WE, the audience, know Mari isn’t intentionally pulling Adrien’s strings, but that’s definitely what it looks like to Kagami, who had to comfort a dejected Adrien after he’d been rejected (once again) by Ladybug. It’s annoying that so many people overlook this aspect of Kagami’s character. She’s protective of Adrien’s feelings BECAUSE she cares about him. THIS. IS. IMPORTANT.

3. Adrien needs more friends like Kagami.

Even though he’s clearly attracted to her, she understands that he’s unable to give up his feelings (for Ladybug) and doesn’t force him to actually “change targets.”

Kagami’s willing to wait for Adrien in case he changes his mind because they BOTH know there’s romantic potential between them.

Kagami’s a determined and totally talented fencer who shares a similar upbringing, but unlike Chloe, she’s an actual positive influence.

More people need to understand that Kagami’s trying to protect Adrien and his feelings. She doesn’t put up with Chloe’s bullying, and she certainly wouldn’t put up with Lila’s lies or bullying, either. Therefore, Kamagi’s friendship could help Adrien learn how to better stand up for himself and what he wants. THIS. IS. IMPORTANT.

Until Mari and Adrien can accept one another’s WHOLE selves (like in Oblivio), all this miscommunication and lovely-dovey crush crap really need to stop—for the sake of their character development AND the story.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Adrienette #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Miraculous Ladybug Meta #Adrienette Meta #I don't know how to tag crap #I ship the Love Square but the miscommunication is getting old #I support Miraculous' Blueberry Children #I don't get why Luka and Kagami get so much hate #Mari and Adrien deserve good friends and love

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reydax · 6 years ago

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epilogue TAKES

characterization aside: the meta playing-with-narrative in both storylines (but especially meat) was FANTASTIC, and reminded me why i loved and unfortunately probably will always love homestuck. dirk and calliope’s fighting over the narration? incredible! the ultimate reveal of how the two storylines coexisted? extraordinary! it’s a very hard gambit to pull off and it was done really well.

there were moments of characterization that felt true. dave, generally, felt pretty legit. roxy’s gender exploration felt powerful and right. rose seemed pretty spot on throughout candy, at least, and kanaya seemed good throughout both.

although i liked meat more, overall, it contained more of the thing that made me the most angry when reading: homestuck has never, ever, felt sexist to me. not that it was perfect, clearly, but i am unfortunately accustomed to reading or watching things in which women and girls are sidelined from plot-relevancy, reduced to objects of sexuality, never allowed to be angry or powerful or evil in a way that wasn’t entrenched in male attention - and homestuck never felt like that!!! we had tons of female characters who were allowed to be messy and broken and flawed and angry and powerful, whose dalliances with men were honest to their characters and never became more than just a single aspect of who they were, who were never overly sexualized, or sexualized at all.

i was so fucking angry when jade was reduced to someone sex-crazed whose entire plotline seemed to revolve around getting herself into a relationship with dave and karkat, who also clearly didn’t seem interested and the whole thing felt really uncomfortable and dubiously consensual. I was so fucking angry when Jane’s tactic for getting Jake to her side was through seduction. And not only that, but even basic character descriptions for female characters focused way too much on appearance and beauty. Like, even when Dirk was narrating it kept talking about the way Rose’s hair looked in the light and how delicate and beautiful she was in a way that made no sense and was so goddamn uncomfortable? Terezi and John’s fling didn’t bother me as much, because I guess at least it felt remotely around the realm of possibility for her character, but it still spoke to the degree to which women in this story were constantly sexualized.

And in the big fight with Lord English, Rose and Jade were taken out immediately so John and Dave could do everything plot relevant - despite the fact that theoretically all of them were needed to fight him? Rose being a non-player in Meat who existed only to be manipulated by Dirk was also uncomfortable, and reducing her to a gullible and sickly waif was such an assassination of a character that was always so intelligent and powerful.

And then there’s the whole deal with other characterizations. Here’s the thing. I never really gave a particular shit about Dirk and Jane, so this one I’m going to be a little less angry about than some. Honestly? It just didn’t feel like them. I didn’t care deeply about their characters in the comic proper, so it just felt like there were two new people occupying their roles who were just more fascist and more megalomaniacal. As much as this new Dirk wasn’t the old Dirk, he was a fascinating villain (except for the constant misgendering of Roxy. could have done without that). I really enjoyed what he did for the narrative in Meat, although I was frustrated few characters picked up on it despite seeming to come so close. New Jane felt like a generic cardboard cutout of a genocidal fascist, and served her kind of narratively uninteresting role fine. So, whatever.

I was more angry about the way other characters reacted to them, or more specifically Jane. The fact that other characters decided to remain “politically neutral” in a time that was CLEARLY not one you could remain neutral in felt wrong to characters that still otherwise seemed theoretically like their old selves. They still have an idea of right and wrong, and whether they believed Jane’s good intentions at first (which was fine, sometimes you trust the wrong people) there was a point in which Jane was just OBJECTIVELY EVIL. I’m mostly @ing Roxy and Calliope here. I’m surprised nobody came up with the idea of like, killing her, when it would so obviously be a Just death?

smaller notes:

reducing the significance of dave’s whole sexuality speech at the end of act 6 just so he could go through/not go through it all again felt cheap. not necessarily unrealistic. just cheapening of a very significant and poignant moment.

i love roxy so goddamn much. (in meat. they were... kinda boring and more ooc in candy)

john remains uninteresting to me unfortunately

the story focused way too much on m/f couplings despite it overall upping the amount of gay present

the fact that we never got to see terezi and vriska’s reunion despite all the teasing is a CRIME

i guess people do sometimes just Want Babies but the huge emphasis on Babies For Everyone in candy was. offputting

why was there so much emphasis on uncomfortable/nonconsensual/abusive/unhealthy relationships? is it supposed to be a message about how All Happiness Is Fake? sounds dumb

but like seriously it didn’t even just seem all just for the Grimdark it was just. uncomfortable

like the authors had some weird personal issues and/or kinks

Anyways. Overall, I’m glad I read them, because it was certainly a better ending than Act 7. Meat was much better than Candy. I wish there had been one final chapter that gave us a little less of a cliffhanger on what both timelines were doing, maybe had them meet a little more, but oh well.

theres my thoughts. read em if you want. message me about them too thats also good

#atxt #hs #i know i never blog about homestuck on this blog so this has absolutely NO audience #but i need to say it #n then ill be done #homestuck

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adeadratiswatching · 6 years ago

Note

Tell us about your extremely vivid dreams.

Ok this is gonna be an extremely long post, but boy do i got some extremely vivid albeit fucked up dreams. This will just consist of like 2 because they are... Intense.

Note: i'm never myself in my dreams, nor is anyone else for that matter

1: ok this one legit had my family thinking i was being haunted by a demonic being, and the reason i don't talk about dreams to people that often.

Ok so to get the setting whoever i was, lived in an apartment building or whatever with their parents. (clearly not mine) if i had to give an age to who i was i was 16 and i believe a girl with curly shoulder length brown hair.

So to get this started the building was rather secluded, existing outside a forested area, with a winding countryish road that was just visible through the trees from my window. Our apartment was up on the 4th or 5th floor. High up. How this inevitably started was ironically me waking up from a dream in the middle of the night. It left me cold and confused so i sat up in bed a bit. In doing so i noticed a weird sensation, like i was being watched. It felt.. Wrong. So instinctively i looked out the window to see this.. Thing. That's the best way i can describe it. It was TALL and bipedal. This thing reached the height of my window. Like it was intense. It was almost humanoid, but long. Take human, turn them greyish dying color and stretch them out, thats the best way i can describe this thing. I remember it slowly walking away out of sight of the old fashioned light post we had outside and into the forested area. That being said i wasn't exactly afraid of it, which is something some normal person would be i'm sure, but nope. So i remember being a bit confused and like "wtf" knowing damn well this thing had an aura of unspeakable evil. So i went into my parents room, woke them up briefly, not saying much, just making sure they remembered the weird act, before going to get some water and going back to sleep. I'm not sure how much time passed, but..enough. I woke up again, same feeling. I sat up and looked out the window. There it was, but this time it was directly staring into my window with this gaunt face. I was.. Taken off guard by this, but more interested in it. It then turned and walked away, same as before but in the opposite direction. I continued to stare out the window, before noticing the most ungodly frightening thing in the reflection of the glass. It was in my room.

(I doodled this when asked what it looked like. Will draw something better later)

I turned around immediately, to see nothing. So like the totally rational human being i am without hesitation i simply go back to sleep, but before i do i remember muttering something about not caring it was there, just that it didn't need to murder my family. Time passes, i see it again and again. I now have full out one sided conversations with it. I remember legit getting so annoyed by it, i started purposefully misgendering it because it wanted me to form a cult following but it wasn't participating enough in doing so, so i said that since i'm the one doing all the work i get to decide what i tell people and it had no say in the matter. I was going to refer to it as our queen if it didn't participate in helping form this cult and thats all there is to it. It wasn't impressed. (Note at some point in this dream i remember yelling "HI SATAN!!" at it)

And to wrap this up because this damn dream could be a novel like all my other dreams, the story went on and while planning a cult with this thing, i did more research and this woman was murdered and burried in the forest behind the house and she cursed the land that if her grave was not kept and people didn't worship her she'd come back and exact revenge. Which was apparently via a demon (that was too lazy to fucking help out with its evil plans. Fuck you Satan, its a team project.) Eventually it was dealt with, but i don't think i will ever forget this dream.

2: if that last one was wild, this one is 10x worse... Aka when i lived an entire life in my dream.

Ok so this is probably going to be the longest one, but it starts off when whoever i was was legit 4 or 5

When i was 4, i lived in a decent sized house with my mother, my older brother, my father and my baby brother. Pretty average life. Well... Not for long. You see, i believe she was the sister on my Mom's side, but my aunt more or less. She and her husband were.. Uh.. Insane to put it lightly. Point is, one day it all fell apart. They murdered the rest of the family. Killed my baby brother first, stabbed him multiple times, slit my mother's throat, dismembered my father and older brother. It was graphic. to make things worse she was obsessed with me. They sat all the bodies up around the table like a family eating together in a morbid painting of crimson and flesh. They killed everyone but me. They kept me. Held me hostage, but kept me in the house, took care of me. We ate at the dinner table with the corpses. She would tell me about the world and her delusions, how this all was only temperary and how my family will be greatful with me as "queen" the thing that was constantly enforced and repeated was the notion that i was the saviour of the world and they all were the sacrifices and that 11 must be reborn. The crazed psychos kept me, and mock parented me for 1 whole week before the police got through. The husband was shot and killed, but the wife, my aunt was arrested.

I spent years of my life getting therapy, before finally being placed in a foster home. I hated everything that happened, and couldn't trust anyone. I had so much issue coming to terms with my family's death. That woman and her husband murdered my family in front of me and used them like puppets to get across their sick and delusional beliefs. The hardest part was learning they had just come from torturing and killing my grandparents. Her own parents. Her mother and father, before coming to murder her sister and her kids. It was.. Unforgettable to say the least.

I was placed in a home, another apartment. With my adopted mother, her mother, and her Son who was about 2 years older than me. They were nice, they cared and i honestly liked them. They took their time to get to know me and what i was ok with and for that i i loved them. But the only one i truely felt close to was my adopted brother. I told him more about me and what happened than i ever did my therapists. He genuinely cared in the most down to earth way possible. I felt safe around him, which isn't something i've felt in a long time. We would talk endlessly about life and he made trying to fit back into society a bit easier.

Me and the brother, i think his name was something along the lines of Damien or Darren or something. I'll go with Damien because i have a feeling that was it. Well me and Damien would often explore the apartment and streets near by to find places we could hide and talk. (Our favorite place was in the closet of the communal laundry room that we figured out the passcode to and would often sit on the shelves and talk for hours whether it be school, or work, or friends. We'd talk.) The rest of the family was ok with this as well, they didn't mind that i put my trust in him instead of a parent figure. They were ok with us keeping our secrets, which made me open up more.

About 2 years into living with them and getting to know them, someone moves in down the hall. Much to my horror, when they come by to meet the neighbors i recognize the voice. Its the same voice from when i was a child, the one who'd whisper sweet nothings about death in my ear, the same voice who's honey words mocked the ones she'd killed. Preached worlds beyond ours and a ritual to rise a new one. 11 souls bound. We made 11. My Grandmother, my grandfather, my brothers and parents, her husband and now us. We made 11. I remember not being able to speak, listening to her talk to my adopted mother. It was so... Disgustingly innocent sounding. She didn't look much like what i remembered but the voice remained. I wouldn't talk. Not to them, not to anyone.. Well.. Except one Damien. I remember us locking ourselves in his bedroom and me spewing out every last frazzled thought about it. About the neighbor. He didn't believe me at first, but once i had calmed he believed me a bit more. Said we should tell our mother. I was reluctant but he convinced me. That night was... A lot. They didn't exactly believe me because my aunt was still in prison, but none the less we kept our distance.

About 2 weeks in, my adopted mother had answered the phone while i had been out with Damien. It was a step to confirming our fear. She was missing. No one knew how she got out, but there was a potential she was after me. I remember getting home with Damien and having her politely tell us to pack our things because we needed to leave. Neither of us questioned it. It merely confirmed the fears. We headed to our room and packed, but froze when we heard our mother scream, the sound was chilling. We heard her run to the phone to call the police but there was a second set of footsteps, louder and faster than the old woman that lived with us. We knew. It didn't take a psychic to realize she'd broken in.

Damien and i froze, bickering when we heard the commotion. It took a bit of convincing but i made him leave to go get help. He encouraged me to go as well, but i said no, we needed to know where she was at all timed and she wouldn't kill me.

He left and i distracted her, fearing every second i spent with her. She'd killed 2 more people i cared about. 2. I grabbed a knife to defend myself and some wire so i could tie her up if i managed to subdue her. She went on about how it was almost time for my awakening, and that this will be the greatest moments in my life. It quickly became a blur as i ducked into my room. And she started cutting chunks out of the door with a large knife. I screamed for her to leave me alone, but she wouldn't stop, why would she? Eventually i fell quiet, sneaking out the same way Damien did, and sure enough to my dismay Damien had come back and dragged me into the closet with him to keep me quiet. He murmured that we both had to go now. Right. Now. I begrudgingly agreed, but by then she'd noticed us and had came for the closet. He bashed the door open, knocking her down and shoved me out and we ran. I thought. I made it halfway down the hall before realizing he wasn't with me. I couldn't leave him. Couldn't lose him. I turned around and rand back in, tackling her. She'd stabbed his leg and he'd gone down and she had been suffocating him. The entire thing became a mess. We were all cut and bleeding but in the end she killed my brother and i lost it. I took the wire i had and wrapped it around her throat as she went to pull the knife from his body. I pulled, god did i pull. Only when her head was only half on did i let go. I was covered in blood and lost everyone i loved. Again. I had no tears now. It was too late for that. I remember getting up, drenched in blood and going to the phone. I dialed 911 and locked myself in my room. I answered the questions asked, but.. It felt wrong. There.. The phone shouldn't work. The cord was literally cut. It was an old landline. Who was talking to me? I froze as i noticed a shadow come from under my door and heard this voice. This demonic voice mumble "its time darling" and i could see the floppy headed corpse of my aunt and i realized i was fucked. Without hesitation i threw myself out the window from the 7th floor.

I got up. I knew i shouldn't have been able to survive that, but i did... Only thing was, when i got up. It wasn't my street anymore. Wasn't my city, and dare i say it wasn't even my world. The dream didn't end there, no. That would be too simple. We have to live out this woman's wish, but that. That's for another story.

#dreams #rambles of the personal variety #i have.. experiences

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amassingeffect · 6 years ago

Text

Ficlet Prompt Friday - Double Down - mReyder

@trajektoria: Could you write something with Reyes singing something for Scott? I have this headcanon that Reyes is a really amazing singer ^^

My brain initially went lounge singer!Reyes and cop!Scott and then I realised that sorta the set up to Sister Act to some degree. But my stupid brain was like, “They never went to Andromeda! Stick ‘em on Omega!” and I legit do not know what to do with the mass of jelly in my skull sometimes. So Scott’s now a private contractor… and I meant to make this quick and short but Scott had other ideas and Reyes stepped in. I’m a little afraid this may turn into an actual big sprawling verse.

This was insanity. The literal actual definition of it. Well, one of them. Extreme foolishness or irrationality. That was the only possible explanation for his actions. He had no business coming to Double Down. Too many spoiled deals, too many irate assholes who felt cheated… this was Omega. There were any other number of places he could have gone to. Hell, even Afterlife would have been better, even if Aria’s goons watched him a little too closely.

But Double Down was the only place where Reyes Vidal was singing. The man had made himself known for singing old Earth songs and people flocked to this bar for his Friday night act.

Scott always made sure to come early so he could get a decent spot. He was sure he was spending too many creds on drinks in a month, but he didn’t care. Ever since the AI scandal with his dad, Scott had to claw and bleed even for any work, just to survive. Sara was gone in the wind, their mother dead from AEND and Alec Ryder had died penniless and disgraced.

But not before the asshole had managed to send his legacy to Scott. The only thing that saved Scott from the fucking AI that downloaded into his brain was his next door neighbour. They were a medic and found him convulsing on his apartment floor. They figured shit out quick and hardlined him into the little black box he received.

Thirty six hours later, Scott had a permanent passenger in his brain and and endlessly fascinated neighbour by the name of T’Perro who said she’d help out when necessary.

He shook his head, studying his overpriced drink. Asari brandy always made him too damn thoughtful. What he needed to be doing was paying attention to the room. Already he was getting a few looks. All his usual spots at the back were taken and so here he was with a table smack dab in the middle of the room. Worst spot ever. Scott really hoped no one came over and started shit. Last thing he needed was to wind up in a brawl at one of his favourite place. Not to mention brawling was expensive if you didn’t clear out fast enough.

The lights dimmed and Scott took a hasty sip before settling in his chair and getting comfortable by slinging his free arm along the back. A spotlight hit the front stage, an asari sitting at the worn looking piano. But the notes that came out sounded like something from a baby grand. And perched right there on a stool in a the neatest black slim cut suit, bowtie perfectly placed was Reyes Vidal.

He looked like something from a different time altogether and far too damn good for the likes of Omega. Then the piano started a peppy little number and Reyes was singing.

It was magic when Reyes Vidal sang. That smooth baritone always made the harshness of life disappear. It was just this small room, Reyes and the piano player. This was why Scott came, pissed away so many credits on drinks. He’d probably be back next Friday too if he could be, like some crazed sailor dashing himself on the rocky shoals of Double Down, drawn in by Reyes.

The piano notes changed, sounding a bit melancholic and then Reyes was singing about a young man, who had a song and style. How he came to see him, and listened for a bit to the person who was a stranger to his eyes.

What was new was how he slowly walked out into the audience, singing all the while. Heads turned and followed him just like the spotlight did. Scott absently took another sip of his drink but he damned near choked when Reyes turned and looked right at him. Those hazel eyes gleamed as he wove around a table, making straight for Scott. Sure enough the spotlight settled right on them as Reyes paused right in front of him.

“He sang as if he knew me, in all my dark despair, then he looked right through me as if I wasn’t there,” Reyes settled down on Scott’s lap, his free hand sliding over Scott’s shoulder to the nape of his neck to delicately draw his fingertips against the skin there. “But he just came to singing, singing loud and clear.”

Scott couldn’t look away even if he wanted to. He was mesmerized by Reyes freaking Vidal sitting in his lap and singing but then he was sliding away, still singing. His hand almost moved, anything to keep Reyes there. He settled for gripping his glass tighter and leaving his arm along the back of his chair.

But then Reyes winked and Scott was now absolutely sure of a few things. His face was redder than red, and judging from the daggers he could feel being stared into his back he needed to be very careful walking back home tonight. He shifted, pulling his chair in to his table more. There was no way he was surviving if Reyes pulled that stunt again. If he didn’t die from all the blood rushing to his dick, it was gonna be a knife in the back.

As much as the tension had him itching to leave, he was not getting out of his chair until his drink was done and Reyes was finished singing.

It would be rude to do anything less, after all.

__________________________________________

If Sara were here, she’d call him any number of things. Idiotic. Insane. Glutton for punishment. But here he was back at Double Down, just like he’d been for the past month. The bouncer always eyed him suspiciously now but let him in.

When Reyes Vidal decided to tease you in the spotlight, people took notice. They really didn’t like it, but they definitely took notice.

Scott was pretty sure his sole saving grace was that the fights happened outside the bar. He always managed to wipe the floor with them and once left two limping home from shot-out kneecaps. Then there was the time his buddy Liam Kosta was passing by and jumped in to save his skin. All he came away with that time was a a busted lip and slash across his arm. Liam’s black eye was eclipsed by his smug grin and very prying questions. It was nothing serious, but T’Perro had tutted and patched them up.

“I do not understand why you are returning to this place,” SAM confused tone came through their private link. “The probability of you being attacked again is in the 90th percentile.”

“You factor in Reyes putting me on display again?” Scott muttered into his drink.

A pause from SAM and then, “In the 99th percentile range.”

“Call me selfish.” Scott shrugged as he took a sip. “Even with all the fights, this is the one bright spot in my life okay? Don’t ruin it.”

SAM didn’t have a response to that and Scott sighed in relief. It always felt risky talking to SAM in public, he preferred to avoid if he could. Not much he could do about it now. T’Perro had made it clear that trying to extract SAM would kill him. Alec Ryder, still messing up his life, even from beyond the grave. He downed his drink and signalled to the waitress for a new one. They brought it over promptly and Scott was surprised when they delicately slid a folded square of paper their way along with the drink.

“With Mr Vidal’s compliments.”

He stared at his brandy as the bartender hurried off. Now Reyes Vidal was buying him a drink? He picked it up, swirling the glass around before taking a sniff. Nothing smelled off, as far as he could tell from the scent. A quick dunk of a fingertip and a drop of liquid on his tongue told him that it tasted fine. Hell, he didn’t care how rude it was, he quickly scanned the glass, really hoping this wasn’t the worst poisoning attempt known to any species.

“I detect no foreign substances in the drink.”

Scott picked up the glass, tilting it as he contemplated the greenish tinted blue liquour. With the compliments of Mr Vidal, huh? He took a sip before he studied the glass once more. No denying it, Reyes had some excellent taste. He looked at the folded square in front of him, tapping a finger thoughtfully against it. One thing he definitely wasn’t gonna do was look at it here. Too many prying and jealous eyes. He tucked it away just as the lights dimmed and the pianist came on. Thank god he got a seat in the back. He blended into the shadows and there was no way Reyes could find him tonight.

Certainly didn’t stop the man from being bewitching everyone with nothing more than the spotlight and a microphone.

And it certainly didn’t stop three morons from trying to jump him on the way home. Jealousy was an ugly thing. A busted arm, a few busted noses and a thorough beat-down hopefully got that message across.

__________________________________________

“So, let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’ve been going to some club for a few weeks now to listen to some guy sing. You get a piece of paper, actual paper from him, and you don’t look at it?”

Scott knew that caving and asking Liam for advice was probably gonna be like shooting himself in the foot. “Look, I just need an objective ear is all. I’m just…” he made a vague gesture around his face before making a sound of frustration.

“I think you’re an idiot for passing up a booty call. Every one’s talking about Vidal. Surprised Aria hasn’t offered him employment. Or blackmailed him into it.” Liam shook his head. “Why are you so chickenshit to look at the paper anyhow?”

Scott just shrugged as he loaded another heat sink into his rifle. Maybe because unopened the paper couldn’t disappoint him. Maybe he wanted the world from a tiny piece of paper when it was probably just gonna be another kick from life. Their target entrance exploded with their timed charges and they rushed in, easily taking down the guards in the room.

Working a job with Liam was always a good time. They got along and even more surprisingly, Liam usually kept his words barring extenuating circumstances. The guy had enough tricks up his sleeve, it would give STG pause. Like looping the security feeds with spliced video with correct timestamps. Like… who thought of that, much less cobbled it together on the fly?

All Liam ever said was he knew a turian once with the biggest drive ever for vengeance and justice. When Scott asked who it was, all Liam had answered with was a shrug and, “They’re dead.”

But Liam was cut a bit from that same cloth but left tattered by Omega. Not that Scott should be complaining, they were in the building, no alarm was raised and Liam was busy with something at a console.

“All right, we have ten minutes to get in, grab it and get the hell out. Not a second later because God knows we’ll have Blood Pack on our tails soon enough if we dawdle.”

“Well then.” Scott made sure he set his ammo to incendiary. “Chop chop.”

They silently swept in, guns at the ready and even more so when they found their target and managed to get out quietly. Not that Scott was taking any chances. They hightailed it out through the service ducts and into the dangerous rabbit warren of the fans. If you knew the timing sequence, there was a very low probability of being chopped up or accidentally sucked out into space or into raw eezo dust down in the mines. Something SAM was actually useful for. They made it to an abandoned service tunnel, the whirr of the fans starting up behind them a few minutes later and only then Scott breathed a sigh of relief. The fans also helped to disperse their scent because vorcha might as well be damned bloodhounds. A silent alert from his omni-tool made him look up to see Liam grinning.

“BLOODY WELL LOOK AT IT!!” was the sole message. And apparently Liam never ever bothered to turn off his capslock.

Scott rolled his eyes, getting comfortable on one of the storage crates and digging out a ration bar from a pocket before quickly wolfing it down. Liam was doing the same, all the while giving pointed looks. In a way Scott was glad they couldn’t talk here. The massive fans tended to carry sound so silence was required. But hell, Liam could be like a dog with a bone some times. He dug into his pocket, pulling out the square of paper. He unfolded it, while Liam at least pretended to give him privacy.

It was a single line. An extranet address. Reyes Vidal’s extranet address.

Suddenly, that little paper was a wide, terrifying possibility. Terrifying because Scott couldn’t see any scenario where this ended well.

And now he was stuck here with a terrifying piece of paper that he couldn’t even burn to completely destroy the evidence. The smoke would be a dead give away. And that just left him feeling more frustrated.

Liam was definitely looking at him a few seconds later when he stuffed the piece of paper into his mouth, chewing furiously until he swallowed it. There evidence definitely destroyed. Liam pulled up his omni-tool, typing furiously.

WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST EAT IT??!?!!!

No evidence now.

Liam was staring at him like he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. RYDER, I VERY RARELY SAY THIS, SO LISTEN CLOSE, YEAH? YOU’RE A FUCKING TWAT.

Scott simply shrugged. There was no way he could reply to Reyes now. He had to keep low for at least two weeks to ensure the Blood Pack stayed off his tail. The last thing he wanted to do was drawn Reyes into the messy complication of his life.

After a moment of thought, all Scott could do was sigh. He was gonna miss Double Down.

__________________________________________

Not going to Double Down made the days stretch out too damn long. Their client was happy and paid out their fee, even with the hefty “24 hour guarantee” addendum. What Scott was more concerned with at that point was staying alive to enjoy his big payout. He’d spent the past two weeks crashing at flophouses, going to boltholes and just keeping on the move through the myriad of tunnels, service corridor and ever dangerous fan system. It had worked and he was sure the enraged Blood Pack leader wouldn’t find him, much less connect him and Liam to the theft. He’d gotten reports that the Blood Pack leader complained that hunting down a wraith was damned impossible.

At least walking through the Kumi District was relatively safe. No obvious guns and attempted shakedowns. Scott walked along the familiar path, opened the door with a press of his thumb and stepped inside. He leaned against the door, taking a breath.

That was all he got to take, since the unfamiliar rustle of clothes had him reaching for his pistol. Please don’t let it be someone out for his blood. He liked this apartment, paid dearly for the spacious spot. His hackles rose as he stepped into the apartment. Ice clinked against glass and he had his pistol raised on instinct. As he came down the few steps to the living room, he could see a slim figure was stretched out along his couch. There was a black jacket draped over the arm. The bowtie was undone, dangling from underneath the collar and hazel eyes were fixed right on Scott.

Reyes fucking Vidal stretched out on his couch like he owned the place.

“Breaking and entering usually means you get shot.” Scott holstered his pistol.

“What’s a man to do when you don’t call or write? You vanished like a ghost. What should I think?” Reyes tilted the glass to him. “Excellent whiskey by the way. Milgrom is no T88, but still good.”

For a few moments, all Scott could do was look at Reyes. What the hell did the man want from him exactly? Friendship could be a fickle thing, he had learned that the hard way. Lovers even more so. He’d been burned one too many times before. Couldn’t deny how much he wanted though, looking at Reyes.

“So you’re here for something, Mr Vidal. I don’t usually accept contracts this way.”

Reyes shook his head. “No contract. You hadn’t been by in a few weeks, that’s all. Just wanted to make sure you were still alive.”

Shit, he wasn’t supposed to notice. Why was Reyes noticing that he wasn’t there? Scott swallowed as he shrugged. “Can’t keep drinking all the top shelf shit at Double Down.”

“Is that what you’re telling yourself, querido?” Reyes chuckled as he got up, resting his glass on the table. “Omega is full of liars and charlatans. I know a lie when I see one.”

“Why do you care if I show up or not? I’m a private contractor, I could have been shot up on a job. We’re a dime a dozen.”

Reyes made a clucked his tongue, before he half sung, “Querido, here of all places you should see no masks, to come to your home and hearth, aren’t we past all that? I thought we had something, had to find out. Had to come here and see, at least take my shot.”

The lull of his voice, his hand sliding along the shoulder armour to rest on the nape of Scott’s neck, fingers gently stroking the fine hairs there. Scott couldn’t explain why something just cracked inside him. If Reyes was offering what Scott thought he was… at this point, he didn’t care if he wound up dead in a gutter because of it. He slid a hand along Reyes’ arms, the muscles leading to the smooth curve of shoulder and down a solid back to the small just about the curve of Reyes’ ass.

“You’re innocent, get caught in my crossfire. I don’t want you dead because of me.”

Reyes raised a brow at that before he gave a dry chuckle. “This is Omega. Very few people here are entirely innocent. We’re all charlatans, thieves and liars to some degree,” his fingers traced down Scott’s stubbled jaw. “And did you not think that maybe you may wind up dead because of me?”

Now that made Scott laugh. “They’ve been trying for a few weeks and failed.”

“Ever had a Blood Pack member obsessed with you? Makes life tricky.”

Scratch that. Scott was probably gonna wind up smashed to a pulp in a ditch. Maybe not if he got to the krogan first, with the right backup. But Reyes was so close, with the warmth of his body and the promise of his lips… Scott was helpless to resist. He took a half-step back, queuing up some tracks from his omni-tool. The opening strains played through the apartment and Reyes’ smiled as Scott bowed, holding his hand out.

“Then may I have this dance?”

Reyes smiled as he took his hand and Scott pulled him in close as they swayed to the music. Then Scott felt the whisper of Reyes’ breath against his ear as he sang along..

“I put a spell on you, because your mine.”

Scott tightened his arms around Reyes, kissing him with everything he had. God help him, he really was under Reyes’ spell. For as long as he wanted him, Scott would stay by his side. And if someone wanted Reyes, they’d get to him over his dead body.

#mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #mryder #reyes #reyes vidal #mreyder #ficlet prompt friday #fanfic #writing #trajektoria

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amandamandas · 3 years ago

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camilanico 28/06

Showing off had always been Nico’s god given ability and favorite pastime. By spending so much time tweaking up his car and making sure it ran as crazily as it looked, he paid no mind to secretiveness, neither to mystery. As soon as the paint had dried enough or the last addition to the system worked out, the jamaican was out and about, looking for trouble or just enjoying the curious, dreamy looks that the city would give him and his beast of a machine. Surely, driving such a nice piece had its benefits; girls would always fall in line whenever the slightest possibility of being taken for a ride inside was presented. And like a fortunate, charming man, he always made sure to make them as comfortable as possible before hitting the gas pedal and changing their lives forever.

That, however, was not the case that night. Kelly had been waiting for an opportunity to take Camila for a ride since the very first day she had given him the time of the day with his jokes, ones he seemed to take way too seriously whenever the thought of her lit up his mind and he wondered just how she would react if he ever showed her what his Skyline was made of. The car and himself had been polished to perfection before showing up on her doorstep, the little devious smile that pulled at his lips being the only indicative to just how much he loved their crazed dynamics and belief in the good married life. Nicolas wanted that for himself one day, maybe without the pretense and still with all its possibilities. But until then, he would make sure to enjoy his little telltale wife and her twisted ways.

The second Mila was out of her place, the jamaican had already jumped from the driver’s seat and made his way to the passenger door, pulling it open to accommodate his lady with a courteous gesture. As he got inside again, he made sure to greet her just as haphazardly, in his very own Nico, trying ways. One of his hands engulfed her delicate fingers before pulling her closer to leave a fluttering, quick kiss on top of one of her cheeks, smiling gallantly before starting the car and taking a smooth turn. “How do you like my ride, my pretty little wife? Does it suit your needs?”

---

Something that Camila had known ever since the early days of her childhood was how to go after what she wanted. Her mother always made it clear that nobody would give anything to her freely, no matter how much she deserved, and the best thing a woman could do in this world was to stay prepared for every possible situation. As a child, she used to think highly of her mother for sharing those ideas, never thinking twice before following all her little pieces of advice. Still, Kang would only fully realize how legit were the older woman's words years later, trying to make her way into the electrical engineering field as a young lady at the same time she was trying to cope with how much she hated the idea of working in that area. Much more than dropping out of college, the thought of going back to Uruguay and recognizing her failure seemed ridiculous in a way that it became the thing that kept her going through daily life. She was going to endure whatever happened and turn it into something better.

Believing that even the most inoffensive relationships in life were about giving and taking something, she had standards even for making friends. That selectiveness extended to her brief flings (because no one was good enough to be called a lover), and Nicolas was no exception. Of course, they were far away from being an actual couple, but she had to admit that their conversations about their fake married life entertained her. If any other racer had invited her for a ride, she would have brushed it off with a polite remark, but after noticing how he didn't hesitate to stop flirting with anyone else as soon as she asked him to, there was no other option but accepting. Willing to see how far they could go, Camila barely could wait till the night.

As someone who loved little treats more than anything, she couldn’t help but chuckle when he got out of the car solely for the purpose of opening the passenger door for her, openly smiling at his dramatic acst. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be hard at all to enjoy the ride. "Pretty little wife? I like that.” She rolled her eyes right after talking, more at herself than at him. "It suits perfectly, baby. Can’t quite complain about anything yet.”

------

There wasn’t much Nicolas liked better than being inside his car. Ever since he was a kid, being around engines and embracing his father’s hobbies and livelihood felt as easy as breathing. At first, he surely had done it out of respect for the old man, but as time went by, the working and tinkering with machines felt like an extension of himself. Somehow, he understood that the plain lack of interest in absolutely anything else just meant that he knew exactly how he would spend the rest of his days. As a matter of fact, his life was far, far away from an uptight office job and the easy pattern bestowed upon the majority of people’s existences. Nico’s mission wasn’t anywhere near a boring routine and the sense of pursuing less than deserved money until he left that world. In the end, it all fell down to him behind a steering wheel and speeding down the lane knowing he was the one man to give every other one a hard time when it came to racing.

That was the one thing he wanted Camila, his date, to notice about him. He wanted her to realize just how confident he was about everything he ever did, how the world made way for him and his easy going ways. He wanted her hooked, because he loved when they showed as much interest as they could without giving in. In some impossible, unpredictable way, their paths had crossed in the most comical sense, yet Nico didn’t feel like letting the joke die down so soon. More than anything else, he made sure that it kept growing until real meetups like those happened, ones where he was in his element instead of the other way around. As soon as she had gotten inside his car, Kelly’s eyes were already set upon every little reaction that he got from her, his gaze constantly switching from her elegant profile to the streets he knew by heart. “Because there’s nothing to complain about, Camila love.” Nicolas chuckled lightly after hearing her remark, a bright smile ripping the flat line of his full lips before checking on her again. “You’ll realize this soon enough.”

“But tell me about your day.” After switching lanes and looking around the signs to make sure he wasn’t headed anywhere strange, the speeder went back to paying attention to Mila’s every little reaction and the fine, upper-class features that constituted her, highlighted by his green alien lights from the inside of the car panels. Whenever he deemed possible, he would avert his gaze to her, always attentive to the way she looked after some good days without seeing her properly in person. As Nico realized later, her face wasn’t one that he saw much whenever racing or going around town, and that made it even more exciting. As blatantly as possible, after pulling on the gear shift, his fingers patted down her thigh sympathetically, except he had no intentions of taking them away. “Tough? Boring? Looking better now?” He blinked innocently, his signature sleazy smile lighting up his countenance.

------

A trait much valued by the young woman was self-confidence. In a dramatic sense, Camila believed in herself above anything. Crying and feeling bad for herself weren't her usual acts since she was always so convinced that, somehow, things would go the way she wanted them to. She was blessed at birth with good looks and a bright personality, charming enough to keep anyone who seemed worth it around: a fatal combination that only gave her more reasons to feel so capable and so superior. That characteristic of hers had always been praised by her family cycle and even some teachers, people that didn't get too worried when she decided to study electrical engineering in Sogdo instead of going back to Montevideo after finishing high school. She was a smart girl, and there were no doubts that she would make it work in her favor. Putting their little joke aside, Nicolas's cockiness, so similar to her own, was the attribute that had drawn her attention. He made things seem easy in the same way Camila liked to view, also so sure of himself that she had no choice but to actually go with the flow and trust him. By saying that she wouldn't have anything to complain about, she felt that he would pull an actual effort to make sure of it. It occurred to her that she wouldn't mind letting him take her for a ride twice or thrice, and maybe more if he lived up to his potential.

Another pro that she would add to her mental list later was how his gaze would go back and forth to her, even while driving. Slightly dangerous, of course, but she could ignore it for the sake of receiving some attention. About to answer his question, she lost the focus upon feeling the discreet touch on her thigh, immediately rolling her eyes. "You are such a thot. Barely five minutes together and you are already brushing my thigh." More pleased than it could be guessed by her voice tone, she fixed herself on the seat, now more leaned to him. "It's getting better now. But the bar is on the floor, I only went to college and work today." Giving a last glance to his fingers, she once again smiled to herself before continuing. "Your day must have been more interesting."

#nico x camila #2806

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johnboothus · 4 years ago

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Next Round: Author Wright Thompson on Pappy Van Winkles History and Tragedy

Airing between regular episodes of the VinePair Podcast, “Next Round” explores the ideas and innovations that are helping drinks businesses adapt in a time of unprecedented change. As the coronavirus crisis continues and new challenges arise, VP Pro is in your corner, supporting the drinks community for all the rounds to come. If you have a story or perspective to share, email us at [email protected].

In this episode of “Next Round,” your host Zach Geballe speaks with Wright Thompson, author of “Pappyland.” Thompson’s story focuses on three generations of Van Winkle brewers and the harrowing journey that led to the world’s most exclusive bourbon. The distillery first opened in 1935, with the team breaking ground the day after Prohibition ended. From there, the Van Winkles were among the first to produce a strong, wheated bourbon and edge away from the typical corn and rye bourbon formula.

Through no fault of their own, the Van Winkles eventually lost their original Stitzel-Weller distillery due to a fluctuating market and lack of interest in craft bourbon. By 1972, Pappy Van Winkle had passed, leaving the distillery to his son, who later sold it and opened Old Rip Van Winkle. Years later, he passed the distillery down to his son Julian Van Winkle, whose story has become the focal point of “Pappyland.”

Thompson discusses Julian’s quest to produce the bourbon his grandfather used to make, which eventually received a 99 score from the Bev Institute. Almost immediately after this announcement, a bourbon craze began, and now, bottles of Old Rip Van Winkle can be found for $1,600 apiece at liquor stores on Sunset Boulevard. Despite this, 2021 will be the distillery’s first year in the black, and Julian has no intention of slowing down anytime soon.

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Zach: From Seattle, Washington, I’m Zach Geballe. And this is “Next Round,” a VinePair Podcast conversation. We’re bringing you these conversations between our regular podcast episodes in order to focus on the issues and stories in the drinks world. Today, I’m speaking with Wright Thompson, author of the newly released “Pappyland.” Wright, thanks so much for your time.

Wright: No, it’s my pleasure.

Z: So, let’s start out with just a little bit about how this idea came to be. What was it about the story of Julian Van Winkle, who’s kind of the centerpiece of the story, and who is the living connection to the history of Pappy Van Winkle. How did this all come about?

W: I met Julian years ago at a party in Atlanta. And I obviously knew what Van Winkle was and liked it. But I didn’t really know the story. I falsely and unfairly assumed that he was like a little Richie Rich — born on third base and thought he hit a triple, just inherited this booze empire. And it turns out, when I found out that his grandfather Pappy built it, and then his father, through no fault of his own — just the bourbon business completely collapsed in the late ’60s and ’70s — and they lost the distillery. So Julian built it back up from scratch, and it took a very long time. To the point that he took out so many loans to keep this thing afloat against all sound business reasons, that they’re finally paying the loans off this year. 2021 will be the first year in the black.

Z: That’s amazing. And it’s interesting, one of the things that comes through extremely strongly in the book, at least in my reading of it, is there’s this real sense of loss and regret that seems palpable to Julian’s life story and to the story of the distillery and of the bourbon. But also — again I apologize if I’m reading too much into it — but it feels like something that kind of connected the two of you. That the way that the bourbon takes him back in time seems to resonate with you, too. Is that accurate?

W: Well it’s that and I heard in “Dolly Parton’s America” podcast, which is brilliant. But the person who made it had this point where they said that, and I didn’t know this, but nostalgia comes from the Greek words for “home” and “pain.” And that idea feels like it is in the same frequency and key as bourbon. And so, yes, there is this idea that a bottle of aged finally crafted bourbon is both proof of the inexorable passage of time, and also, in some ways, an attempt to stop it. I liked that quote that “Everything dies, maybe that’s a fact, but maybe everything that dies one day comes back.” It’s both.

Z: Very cool. And I know you mentioned previously the struggle that Julian went through to bring the bourbon back from the dead, essentially. And obviously there’s much more than we’re going to get to in this interview, and the book is full of these incredible recountings of everything that he went through. But I think that one piece of it that I’m fascinated by is, in a way, he’s almost haunted by the whiskey that he tasted as a young person when his family still owned the distillery, and I would just love your perspective on that. It feels like that was literally a part of him, was that your sense?

W: One, it feels like it’s very much a part of him. And two, when you realize that it’s real, that he is not trying to make “fine bourbon”. And he’s not trying to make “highly sought-after bourbon.” And he’s not trying to make bourbon that the best palates in the world find “perfect.” He is on a memory quest to try to put bourbon out into the world every year that reminds him of this smell and this taste that doesn’t exist anymore. If you stumble across an old bottle of even just crap bourbon, you know, I got a pint not crap but just mid-level stuff. I got a pint from the ’70s a couple of weeks ago, a pint of Old Charter. And it’s unbelievable. So just what people accept now as the standard, because the bourbon industry is so run by accountants and tax lawyers, that they could make a better thing, they just choose not to. And craft distillers have no shot, because they don’t have access to these huge rickhouses and the capital it takes to sit this stuff up there for 23 years. And frankly, the deeply ingrained, handed-down knowledge of barrels and rickhouses. I mean, distillers don’t make bourbon, warehouses do and barrels do. And to me, the most important person at a distillery is the person in charge of the rickhouses. Anybody can build a still off the internet and make whiskey. You and I could be making whiskey in 72 hours. Literally. And so that’s what’s so interesting is that he is chasing something that he knows is gone and that can never come back, and so it’s that thing you talked about earlier, the regret and loss.

Z: Yeah. I’m wondering, ‘cause I think it’s such an interesting piece of this story and I think of particular interest to a lot of our listeners who may have had a chance to try a little bit of what is out there from the distillery but not from the original distillery. The new project that Julian’s been working on. So can you talk a little bit about how the original Pappy Van Winkle came to be? ‘Cause one of the fun things about the book, of course, is that it’s a story of the three generations of the Van Winkle family, and Pappy seems like a real character and an iconoclast in the bourbon industry at the time. So can you talk a little bit about the founding of the distillery and of the brand?

W: It helps to go back to Pappy, who started the Stitzel-Weller Distillery. It opened on Derby Day 1935. They broke ground literally the day after Prohibition ended. And they made a lot of Cabin Still, they made Rebel Yell, they made Old Weller, but the flagship brand was Old Fitzgerald and Very Old Fitzgerald and Very, Very Old Fitzgerald. And so that was fine aged wheated bourbon. Pappy died in 1965, and Julian’s father took over. Julian’s father was a legit war hero, Silver Star in the Pacific, just a bad-a** But by 1972, he had lost the distillery. The whiskey business was just in free fall, and it pretty much stayed in free fall until the year 2000. Julian’s dad left Stitzel-Weller after he had to sell it and started the Old Rip Van Winkle Distillery. And he was buying barrels of Stitzel-Weller that he had made, buying back barrels of his own whiskey and bottling it. And it was the only thing he knew how to do, and he just couldn’t imagine a life not in the whiskey business. And then he died relatively soon thereafter, and Julian always felt like losing the distillery killed him. It’s interesting. Julian said there were two things you didn’t talk to his dad about: the war and losing the distillery. To let you know how both of those things existed in the same way — home and pain again, you know? And so when Julian’s dad died, Julian was like, “Well, I don’t know what else to do.” And so he just spent through the inheritance and started borrowing money, and he kept putting this whiskey out, and he was bottling a lot of different stuff. A lot of Old Boone was made, which is so good. It was made by Wild Turkey. And then in the ’90s, he got a phone call from somebody over at the distillery, and they were selling these barrels of Stitzel-Weller bourbon. And nobody wanted this stuff, which is crazy to think about now. I mean Stitzel-Weller bourbon, which everyone considers is the finest bourbon ever made and that will ever be made, was 2 percent of the Crown Royal blend.

Z: I didn’t know that until reading the book, and I had to put the book down for a couple of minutes just to sit with that.

W: No it’s just unbelievable how much money they threw away. And so Julian started bottling this stuff, and he had Old Stitzel-Weller. And so as a tribute to Pappy, he started putting out Pappy Van Winkle, and no one wanted it for a little while. And then in 1997, the beverage — I don’t even know what the Beverage Institute is and I wrote a book about this stuff — but they got a 99 score, which set the “cheffy booze world” on fire. And in the way that whatever Anna Wintour puts on Vogue ends up in Kmart six years later, that score, and the chef’s fascination with this perfect product, filtered. And a bourbon craze ignited, and the degree to which Julian started the craze or was the first beneficiary of it, it’s sort of impossible to sort out. But it started with him. The hows and the mechanisms of that are really hard to unwind, but the bourbon world we know today started basically then.

Z: Yeah. And I’m wondering, you mentioned that whole “sea change” in bourbon, where it went from something where there was no market for high-end bourbon or even maybe mid-tier bourbon to now where it is. And I’m wondering, obviously Julian has in some ways benefited from that, you mentioned at the beginning your impression of him before ever meeting him was kinda “here’s this guy who’d lucked his way into this inheritance, essentially.” But there’s something that I get out of the book, and obviously you’ve met the man and spent time with him, and obviously you wrote a book about him with him, and so my sense is that at best, there’s a pain to the sense that this has become something that is so sought after.

W: It has benefits, but not that many benefits. They don’t make enough of it. Nobody’s getting rich. He’s just getting yelled at. But all he wants is for every single person who drinks bourbon to be able to drink Old Rip Van Winkle every single day. And then to have the three bottles of Pappy, they’re not meant to be a stepladder of greatness, they’re three very different things. And so, I think in his mind, he would love for everyone’s decanter to be full of Old Rip and for you to have a bottle of 15, 20, or 23, depending on what you like for special occasions, and that every person who loves bourbon would be able to do that. That’s what he would like. I mean, he’s the first person who will tell you “no bourbon in the world is worth $3,000.” And it’s interesting because they’re really against the secondary market for a lot of reasons, but the biggest one is there’s a lot of counterfeiting out there. I hope I’m not talking out of school saying this, I don’t remember if this is in the book or not. I might’ve found this out afterwards. I don’t remember ‘cause I kept hanging out with them after the book was finished, so there were a couple of things I learned afterwards that that were too late for the book. Someone has a Buffalo Trace capper. So you can’t really tell the difference between the fakes and the real ones, except for hidden things that only the distillery knows. And so, some of these fakes are really good and all the fakes that get confiscated get sent to the distillery, and Julian goes in and tastes them. And he’s always like, “surprisingly, some people put really good whiskey in the fakes. It’s not ours, but it’s good.” But if you know that he’s on a memory quest and that he wants every bottle to be the closest he can do to putting out a very specific taste and smell out into the world, the counterfeits — not only are you cheating people, it defeats his entire purpose for doing this.

Z: Yeah. That’s fascinating. It’s so easy to get relegated. And I think I’m guilty of this, many people frame any conversation around his bourbons as this conversation about the price and the scarcity and the conflict between the demand and the secondary market. And that’s one of the reasons I love reading the book, is it’s obviously this incredibly personal journey for Julian, and you just get this sense of this. It is very moving and gives the bourbon in some ways — well this is my conjecture so you can tell me if you agree or disagree — but bourbon has become this huge industry. And you mentioned the declining overall quality that’s come with a lot of shortcuts that are taken for financial reasons, whether it’s barreling and bottling at lower proofs or just releasing products earlier with less aging or all of the above. But it is interesting to think about how there’s something else going on here that’s not a commercial story. ‘Cause I think those of us in the drinks industry are guilty of sometimes looking at big price tags and thinking about these things through that lens exclusively.

W: Well, it’s interesting because when he joined up with Buffalo Trace, I think he was selling 2,500 cases a year. And now, I think they’re selling between 9,000 and 10,000 cases a year. And you still don’t see it on a shelf, ever, unless it’s absurd. I love to send him pictures from liquor stores, prices on bottles. ‘Cause it makes him f****** crazy. So I love to do it. It’s one of my favorite things like, “oh, here we go. Here’s a bottle of Old Rip on Sunset Boulevard for $1,600. I love to do that, ‘cause it just makes his head explode. Also, you got to understand, this is a guy whose family was on the very top of the bourbon world when bourbon was the dominant drink in America, and he watched it all slip through their fingers, and he is living 15, 20 and 23 years in the future and having to try to understand what America is going to want to drink after he’s dead. The stuff they’re putting in barrels now, he won’t ever live to see it bottled. And so he is very conservative, because he’s been through the bust, and there are a lot of people in the industry now who haven’t. And so, he also doesn’t want to put so much stuff in barrels that he screws his son, Preston. Like in some ways his grandfather put his father in a jackpot. He’s very aware of the fact that this could all stop, and everyone could just start drinking gin. And so a lot of people are like, “well, why don’t you make more?”And it’s ‘cause he doesn’t know if we’re going to want to buy it.

Z: Yeah. I’m curious, I just wanted to ask real quickly, ‘cause I think this is actually an important piece of this, too, that you talked about having lived through that bust cycle for bourbon and how so many people in the history now just haven’t because it’s been 20 years of growth since 2000, or even since a little before then. But the other piece of this that’s really interesting to me is the original story of his grandfather is someone setting out to make a product that was distinctive from what else was on the market — a bourbon that was corn and wheat, not corn and rye. And then obviously that’s something that’s been carried through in what Julian is doing now, but obviously at the same time with the success of Old Van Winkle and and his newer products, not that it was a secret ever, but there are more and more people making wheated bourbons. Is that something that he views positively as in like, “this is the best way to make bourbon,” or as now there’s more risk of too many things?

W: No, he likes it ’cause it gives him more stuff he likes to drink.

Z: That’s a good point.

W: And you drive around Kentucky, you see a lot of cornfields and you see a lot of wheat fields. And bourbon was never designed to be a recipe. Bourbon is an agricultural crop. It’s a way for farmers who live too far from market to get all of their crops to market before it rots. It was a way to preserve that profit. And so every whiskey manual you’ve got up until the lobbyists got involved in Washington and started writing these rules about what it could and couldn’t be, there’s no such thing as a recipe. You use what grains you have. And so, it’s so interesting about how hard muscle-memory habits are to break, because a lot of bourbons still use rye, but there’s no rye grown in the state of Kentucky. It is grown in Pennsylvania and the Upper Midwest, and all those distillers who moved from Pennsylvania, running from the tax man to Kentucky when it was still the frontier, they just knew how to use rye, and they kept bringing it in. So in a lot of ways wheated bourbon is “of Kentucky” in a way that rye bourbon is not.

Z: That makes sense. And I’m curious, too, you mentioned the legalities and the legal definitions. I’m curious about your personal opinion on this, having been heavily involved in this. Obviously nowadays, you can make bourbon legally called “bourbon” anywhere in the U.S. There obviously are certain requirements you have to meet, but it does not have to be a Kentucky product. Does it feel to you like bourbon should be a Kentucky thing, exclusively?

W: No. I think anybody should be able to make anything, you know? I understand the lobbying interest desire to make it a monopoly. You know? And you got to look on those labels because Kentucky straight bourbon whiskey is made in Ohio or Indiana a lot. And so you gotta look. The weather is perfect in Kentucky. It can age less in Kentucky. It’s so interesting that bourbon ages match the age of Scotches. And I just think that’s because it’s what 10 and 12 and 15 year old are ages that Scotch drinkers are used to seeing, and they denote quality. But what’s so interesting is that the Scottish seasons are so much milder than the Kentucky seasons, that a 12-year-old Scotch is about the same in terms of being aged as a four-year-old bourbon. So these 12-year-old bourbons have gone through as much of the processes of aging and the barrels breathing the liquor in and out of the woods as a 36-year-old Scotch. And so it’s really crazy the degree to which the marketing — a four-year-old bourbon is good bourbon. Maker’s Mark is good. And sometimes it feels like we’re trying to compare things to Scotch.

Z: OK. I have one last question for you, and this might be a difficult one, so I apologize in advance. But in the process of working on this book or, or even maybe afterwards hanging out with Julian, is there a singular bourbon experience, like one that you had that still is at the top of the list?

W: Matter of fact, I’ve had a couple. We went to his basement one time, and he had an old, they call them blue caps — they’re the tasting half pints or quarter pints, whatever, they are half pints probably, but he had an old Stitzel-Weller blue cap of White Dog from the ’60s off of the Stitzel-Weller still. And that was unbelievable because, I don’t want to name names and be a jerk, but there are very expensive modern bourbons that are not as smooth as that White Dog. I had some Stitzel-Weller bottled in ‘68. I’ve had some ‘63 Stitzel-Weller, Pappy did. One of the coolest is they’re like five bottles in the world of that 1997 20 year old got the 99 score. And we were at Julian’s house one day, and he pulled one out and he goes, “This is it. You want to open it?” And I was just like, “We can’t open it. You got to save this for your kids or something. Don’t open it”. And he was like, “No, you’re probably right.” But I had this moment where I was like, “I’ve gone too far!” Like, I have carte blanche to raid this guy’s unbelievable whiskey collection, and I’ve gone too far now, and I have to stop. And so, those are pretty great. And, it’s just a lot, I’ve drank a lot of Rip Van Winkle.

Z: That’s an occupational hazard, I guess.

W: It really is. I mean the joke is, I’m really glad we couldn’t go on a book tour, ‘cause some part of me thinks that this is a book tour that if you go on, and some part of you never comes home. So I’m very pleased that I got to stay home and not die.

Z: Yeah, for sure. Yeah. You walk into any bar with Julian, and it’s probably not going to end early I’m betting.

W: It doesn’t.

Z: Yeah. Well Wright, thank you so much. It’s a really wonderful book. Like I said, it’s a lot of fun for anyone who is interested in bourbon and also I think there’s a lot of emotion in it, which is really cool. Like I said, I was surprised at how much emotion and pathos there is in the book. Shouldn’t have been surprised, given the subject matter, but it’s really more than just a straight history of the brand and of the family.

W: Well, I appreciate that. I wanted it to reflect what it’s like to drink bourbon, not just to be a static, boring story of how one particular bourbon is made. I wanted it to have that entire universe and the evening, the way it is when you share a really nice bourbon with people. So that’s what we were going for.

Thanks so much for listening to the VinePair Podcast. If you enjoy listening to us every week, please leave us a review or rating on iTunes, Stitcher, Spotify, or wherever it is that you get your podcasts. It really helps everyone else discover the show. Now, for the credits. VinePair is produced and hosted by Zach Geballe and me, Adam Teeter. Our engineer is Nick Patri and Keith Beavers. I’d also like to give a special shout-out to my VinePair co-founder Josh Malin and the rest of the VinePair team for their support. Thanks so much for listening, and we’ll see you again right here next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity

The article Next Round: Author Wright Thompson on Pappy Van Winkle’s History and Tragedy appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/next-round-wright-thompson-pappyland/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/next-round-author-wright-thompson-on-pappy-van-winkles-history-and-tragedy

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somevirtualnolife · 7 years ago

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A Reluctant Catch-Up

2327 words

Rating: G Pairing: F! Rogue Hawke X Cullen Rutherford Summary: Aerianne Hawke joins the Inquisition team at Skyhold and finds herself reluctantly catching-up with a certainly former templar. Author’s Notes: My very first Dragon Age 2 playthrough went pretty badly for my poor Hawke. Like, I’ve never never made worse choices for a character (I legit managed to have Isabela run away and fight Fenris in the final battle). I always wished I could give her a less sad ending, so why not write a fic about it? This will probably be a series of fluffy one-shots, similar to my Trevelyan x Cassandra ones.

It was not unusual for the commander to have a grumpy expression on his face. If you asked any of his men, the would say it was only facial expression, with the exception of irritated and annoyed of course. Not to say that Cullen wasn’t a good commander. If anything he was amazing at it. Organized, thorough, dedicated...

But would it kill him to lighten up now and then?

This time however, Cullen perhaps had a bit of reason to his irritated look. It had come to his attention that one of his guardsman, Tennant, was shacking up with one of the kitchen girls while on duty and it was starting to cause a bit of a nuisance. Could they not contain themselves until the evening? Or switch his schedule around? None of this was difficult.

It was time to put an end to these little rendezvous once and for all.

There had been mention of the guard sneaking off to one of the rooms that overlooked the garden. Although they were meant for guests and dignitaries, the Inquisition was still getting back on it’s feet, so of course it shouldn’t be a surprise that others would use it for more personal reasons. Eventually, Cullen found the room that he had been informed of and knocked on it several times. There were no whispers, but there was certainly the sound of someone in there moving about. They were in there.

“Right then, you two. I know you’re both in there,” Cullen said irritably. “Just come out and face the consequences of your actions, Tennant,” Once the door opened, the person who answered was not quite who he expected, and his face quickly went from irritation to surprise to slight regret.

Right. There was one guest.

“Knight-Captain Cullen,” a woman with light brown hair, mauve eyes and olive-toned skin opened the door. “Or I guess it’s Commander now. Thought I recognized that annoyingly-demanding voice from somewhere,” she muttered.

“Hawke,” Cullen said, looking taken back at the situation. “I didn’t realize that you had taken up this room,” or that she was still here, to be quite honest. She had a way of disappearing as of late.

Varric introduced her to the War Council and the Inquisitor when she first arrived, but after that, Aerianne Hawke quickly kept her distance, for understandable reasons. Although they were all here fighting on behalf of the Inquisition and knew each other, their past was a little complicated to say the least.

He and Hawke had been at Kirkwall for around the same time. During that time, Aerianne was considered a voice for the struggling people of the city. A Fereldan refugee who climbed up to not only being a noble, but Champion of Kirkwall. For Cullen, he was the knight-captain of the city, second-in-command to Meredith. After everything that happened in Kinloch Hold, and the influence of his new commander, the issues with blood magic and apostates in the city gave him a new purpose.

Needless to say, Hawke’s opinions and his own clashed. Often. It was hard to forget the heated arguments he would have with the rogue in his office about the best way to deal with the mage plight. Despite all that, they still managed to work together fairly well, and bring down a lot of problems that plagued the city. Yes, she was a thorn in his side, but he’d be lying if she didn’t do her best to try and make Kirkwall a better place.

But in her last year of living in Kirkwall everything changed. Anders, the Chantry, Meredith, Fenris… it was not easy. It was no surprise that she went missing shortly after. Well, not missing. She intentionally disappeared.

“There aren’t any apostates in here, if that’s what you’re looking for,” she leaned on the doorframe, placing a hand on her hips.

“That’s- that is, well not- I mean-,”

“I’m joking, Cullen,” she said, a small smile on her face, though he didn’t find it quite as charming.

“Well, I see your poor attempts at humor haven’t changed one bit,” he crossed his arms.

“And I see you still have absolutely no sense of humor whatsoever,” she replied, crossing her arms as well.

Cullen rubbed his temple. Maker, he didn’t really have time to be thinking of clever retorts against this woman, especially since she always had to have the last word. He came here for an actual reason. “Again, it was a mistake. Won’t happen again,”

“Oh, no. You were right. I take it you were looking for an annoyingly giggly, young couple. They took a bit of a fright when they saw this room was occupied. Can’t say I know where they went off to though,”

With the repairs still being made, there were still plenty of unoccupied rooms in Skyhold. He supposed he could just knock on every single door, but that seemed both counterproductive and embarrassing by this point. He let out a sigh. “Thank you, anyway, Hawke. I’ll deal with the matter later. I’ll leave you to your work. I imagine you’re busy with more important matters,”

“Not particularly,” Aerianne said with a shrug. “My meetings with Leliana and the Inquisitor aren’t until the afternoon. I was considering exploring this grand fortress, but I believe Varric also has some actual work to do this morning,”

“Ah. Is that so?”

There was a pause.

“… Meaning that if you are also free-”

“Right,” he stammered, looking a little embarrassed. “I have some time before performing drills with some of the new recruits. If you would like a tour and... catch up I suppose,”

“I suppose,” she repeated with a soft chuckle, as she made her way past the doorframe and closed the door behind her.

“Maker, you’re not going to try and pester me the whole way through, are you?”

“Only if you give me reason to,” the former Champion said in a very matter of fact matter as she started to walk alongside the Commander. “And you’re not going to lecture me about work are you?”

“Only if you give me reason to,” he responded.

It was hard to believe it had already been over four years since he had seen the Champion of Kirkwall. As they walked, he glanced over her a bit more. She hadn’t really changed all that much since that time. Perhaps a little more tired, but with good reason of course. Probably not best to comment on that. But what could he talk about? Maker, he hated coming up with small talk.

“You cut your hair,” he finally decided on. “Not that it looks bad. Just… different. Suits you,” This was already torturous for him.

“Yours is different as well,” she answered, her violet eyes looking up at him. “Do you style it?”

“I… may do a few things to it in the morning, yes,”

“Knight-captain Cullen keeping up appearances. It suits you as well,” she continued with a bit of an awkward laugh. “Sorry, Commander. That’ll take some getting used to. Also, not in a bad way,”

“Right. Yes,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck a bit.

The two fell silent again as they continued to walk down the battlements. Sort of glancing around, clearly trying to think of something to say, but it not coming out.

“This is weird, isn’t it?” she finally spoke again. “I know I said you should show me around, but this is clearly awkward,”

“Oh thank Andraste- yes, this is incredibly awkward,” Cullen finally let out a sigh of relief. “Why did you think this was a good idea?”

“I thought it would be impolite not to offer! You were just standing there,” she then lowered her voice to a mumble. “I also thought you would refuse,”

“You asked me, assuming I would say no?”

“Well, based on previous responses you’ve given me, yes. That is what I assumed,” she rolled her eyes a bit. “Don’t give me that look! Unless I included the words ‘might be doing blood magic’, or ‘my mother made that stew you like’, you have never said yes to any of my invitations,”

“That can’t be true,” he retorted. But he couldn’t exactly think of any examples to counter with, but surely he said yes to some things.

“I just can’t think of it right now, but I know for certain that I didn’t refuse every one of your invitations,”

“Ah yes. Because accepting one out of thirty invitations really makes a difference,”

“Well, now you’re just being over-dramatic,”

The two looked at each other irritably for a brief moment, until they finally just relaxed and started laughing. Even after all this time, it didn’t take much for them to bicker about something. Were they really this petty?

“Old habits die hard, don’t they?” Aerianne said leaning over the battlements, looking out at the mountains that surrounded the fortress. Cullen decided to stand behind her, looking out as well.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” he finally said. “I was worried about you after you left Kirkwall,”

“I… couldn’t stay,” she said, letting out a long sigh, closing her eyes. It was clear that she had so much that she wanted to say, but just couldn’t. Not yet.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to-,”

“It’s fine. I mean, it’s expected to come up, isn’t it?” Aerianne opened her eyes again and smiled. “Four years is a long time. I’ve been keeping busy, though. It’s funny how supporting a mage rebellion and nearly dying from a crazed, red lyrium templar really opens up a lot of opportunities for you. Not the most ideal ones, but you know, I can’t be picky,”

“Never a dull moment, I imagine,”

“It kept me busy to say the least. Nothing like a commander of the Inquisition though,” she said, looking up at him.

“Well, you were up for position of the Inquisitor, if I recall. You know, for a brief moment,”

Aerianne just shook her head and laughed. “I think you made a better choice with Trevelyan. Trust me. I could lead a small band of misfits across a city. Not control an entire army and gain political power,” the Champion didn’t know Reagan too well, but she could tell that he was more than capable. He managed to avoid death more than a couple of times, and seems to surprisingly calm under all the pressure. Reagan even managed to rally the remaining templars to fight against Corypheus.

Which got her back to thinking again. Well, really it had been on her mind since she had arrived and learned about the Inquisitor and who was in his company. Specifically Cullen.

“You’re okay with the decision? He… is a mage after all,”

Cullen could feel his body stiffen again. It wasn’t unusual for people to ask about his stance on mages. He was an ex-templar after all, and he had no problems with answering it. Cassandra had asked him, as did Trevelyan. Even Vivienne did. But with Hawke, it was different. A different time, a different history, a different meaning.

“Yes,” he finally said. “It’s fine,”

“That’s… surprising,” Hawke replied, raising her eyebrows a bit.

The commander rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a long sigh. “A lot changed after the events at Kirkwall. Gave me some things to think about,”

“Well, I’m glad,” she said with a bit of a smile, bumping him slightly with her hip.

“Approval from the Champion,” he said with a soft chuckle. “I don’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing,”

“To be honest, I’m not sure either,”

It was then that they heard hushed giggling. You know, the type that you would hear from a couple of young lovers, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. The kind that happens when you might be avoiding doing certain duties. And the kind that will get you in trouble with one of your superiors. Just maybe.

Aerianne looked up, just to confirm her assumptions. Sure enough, she could see Cullen’s nostrils flare as he glared up at the tower, where the giggling was coming from. Honestly, the glare was so strong that she half-expected for the building itself to burst into flames. It was a Rutherford classic. Aerianne saw this look whenever he either had 5 stacks of paperwork upon his desk, or had to reprimand one of his men. Or you know… looking at her. For the countless of times she may have stuck her nose into affairs that weren’t her own, or handed him poorly written reports. Had he not become a templar, he would’ve certainly made a great headmaster at an academy.

“Right then,” she said, standing up straight and stretching out her arms. “I know that look, and that’s my cue to leave before I also get an earful about how I fill out my paperwork,”

Cullen let out a disgruntled noise. “If I don’t call out this behaviour then-”

“I know, I know,” she said with a laugh. “If you don’t, then he’s just going to keep doing it and try to get away with more. Just don’t burn a hole through his head in the process, alright?”

Another grumble could be heard from the Cullen, which she took as a strained yes. She gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Always a good talk, Captain… Commander,” she corrected herself. “Let’s do it again sometime. Maybe over drinks or something,”

“Is this a real invitation, or one of those ones where you are expecting me to say no?” he said, crossing his arms once more, but it seemed that she was already off on her way in the opposite direction.

“Later, Commander!” she called out to him as she ran down the ramparts.

“That’s not an answer!” he called back, but by that point, she was already long gone.

So Hawke was back. As for what came next with her around, only the Maker himself could know.

#dragon age #da:i fanfic #hawke x cullen #rogue hawke #cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 2

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summersandsodapop · 8 years ago

Text

the egg hunt

Kitta was confused

Kitta was usually confused about many many things, but that was just what being a new adult was all about.

Today wasn't a different kind of confusion, she felt blue nudge her shoulder a quick show to let her know that someone was knocking on her door, she groggily turned over petting his head

“What?” she called fiddling with her hearing aids, what a hassle, this better be worth it.

“GOOD MOURNING KITTA” ash called swinging open the door, he looked dumb. Dumb in a cute way, a pastel blue sweater with yellow eggs, over a nice button up, he looked ready for some kinda fancy easter event. But to top it all off he was sporting some ridiculous bunnie ears.

“It’s 9 in the mourning this better be worth it”

“Some would consider that late”

“I am not those ppl”

“Come on kitta, it's easter!”

“Yes… and?”

“And since isa and bin are stuck being the icons of the country, we are going to have fun.”

“... okay? And?”

“Wake up, get up, it starts with pancakes… but you have to get dressed”

“No, f**** you”

“That was bubbels rule not mine”

“... allright i believe that… they better be good pancakes”

“I mean… have you even had a bad pancake?”

“Fair enough” she said stretching her arms around her head

“Come hear blue” ash said as she tumbled out of bed but kitta did pay much mind to what ash was calling blue over for, probably some kinda easter present, ash gets sappy about these things.

“What should i wear to day Lavandula” she called over to purple plant that sat in a sticker covered mason jar. “No lavandula it is not weird that i ask my plants for advice, i'm well aware you can't respond... “ the plant did nothing as she stared blankly at it “nothing… well at least blue barks”

She hummed looking over her messy disorganized closet “maybe i have something like ash was wearing” she muttered dropping to the floor digging through her mess of sweaters till she found a pink one with a bunny on it and some black leggings, combing her fingers through her hair as she walked down the hallway. God why is the kitchen so far away from the room, castles suck.

“Good morning kitta” bubbles smiled as she sat down, there was pink roses (gratitude) and daisy's (innocence, true love) it was a interesting choice for bubbles, as bubbles tended to go more for the meaning of flowers then the look of them together, so these must be from ash. Also because they are her favorite. She poured her a cup of tea and placed some pancakes onto her plate. They were pink and blue and purple and topped with strawberries. So cute, oh my gosh.

“Okay kitta, kitta, kitta” ash said with a smile on his face

“Yes, yes, yes?” she asked confused, and tired

“Well for starts, hear you go!” he said popping some bunny ears on her head.

“Oh bunnie ears… this is new… a change from the cat ears”

“Yeah” he said smiling “now! For the fun part!”

“Fun part?”

“It starts, with the flowers”

“Ah yes… i thought something was off about those”

“What?” ash asked “i thought they looked nice? Do you two have some kinda secret flower rules or something?”

“... not exactly rules” i said “there's just more thought about the meaning… because we're nerds…”

“Flower nerds” bubbels said smiling “oh kitta, can we make jackets”

“Yes bubbels we can absolutely make jackets!”

“If bin were here he would say `Oh what, but star lights don't get t-shirts”

“And i would tell him, we can get t-shirts when he comes up with a better t-shirt desising”

“Fair enough. Okay, it starts with the flowers”

“What about them”

“Well maybe you should go find the matching ones”

“Matching?” she asked glancing around the room… matching… well, they keep a lot of plants in the house. Cus plants are cool. So it was more, where do they keep plants in water and not dirt. Her room, the dining room, and the library... there wasn't any pink roses and daisies in her room… well there was but not together. There weren't any in the library last night, but she had a feeling maybe that was on purpose, she had a very strong feeling she was getting sent on a scavenger hunt, and actually... she hated to admit this… it sounded fun.

“Twining flowers, oh what a pity bin and isa aren't hear”

“Aren't the twins jokes old?” “possible , but i don't care” she said standing up from her chair and walking out

“You have an idea already?”

“Ash please, i was made for scavenger hunts”

“Well good, then this will be fun” he smiled pulling out his phone camera. “Ready, set, GO!”

She walked into the library,and on her big favorite table stood a big bouquet of pink roses and daisies.bigger than the one on the table, beneath sat a pink envelope with a bunny stickers on it.

The start of the great easter egg hunt of 2017 starts today!

There are eggs scattered around the house

There is a big chocolate animal of the furry bouncy variety hidden somewhere,

And one non candy surprise!

If you choose to take my easter challenge hop!

I know you're not going to do that so i'll just give you the clue anyway,

The second clue is located somewhere with a big blue bow

“Big blue bow” she muttered folding the letter over humming. Where would there be bows. She had a few stuffed smials, 2 that were bigger then her, as well as a heavy sleeper… but the more likely place was isas room, what with many stuffed animals from skating and figure skating dresses. Yeah that must be where it is as she out the door

“Wow” ash said as kitta glanced around the room… no blue bows but she had found 6 eggs on her run up and was given a basket… “i actually thought you knew”

“So i'm wrong”

“Kinda?” he said with a shrug as blue barked behind him… she glanced over to her dog with a smile. “Awe.. you put a bow on blue cute” she said smiling then looked away, then looked back.. “WAIT A SECOND BLUE BOW” she said with a bounce as she kinda shoved ash aside and crouched down to her very big dog, and sure enough a piece of paper was tied below his neck “awee blue what a good boy!” she said scratching his head

Blues blue bow, get it… i'm funny

Okay, your third clue is in a place where memes are born

“Wow, i am discraised that my dog had to be involved in this”

“Sorry not sorry”

“Okay” she mumbled walking down the hall “this must be the t.v. room, but if we're being honest it's this entire goddamn house and half the ppl inside it”

“Fair enough” he said with a shrug as i waltzed into the room, covered with blankets and snack food bowls and soda cans still distilled from the night before. She glanced around the room and started to hunt, the old fashioned way, peeking under things lifting things up, looking behind. It wasn't until she lifted the couch cushion (and found 15 more eggs, the dude was there) that she found a big ol chocolate bunnie

“How manys eggs did you find?” she asked popping some skittled out of one

“Allot”

“When did you do all this?” “Me and bubbles woke up really early and were really bored”

“Clearly… so what do i got to find the rest of the eggs?” “Yeah there's allot more of thouse. Your next clue is, what do bunnies eat?”

“Spoken.. Lame” she said “also is this a trick question, because i feel like the answer you're going for is bunnies, but i know allot about rabbits due to a very strange craze in the 8th grade”

“I remember that”

“And i will tell you that they eat hay” “What does bugs bunny eat”

“Better. Carrots and possibly the soles of the innocence, but we'll get back to that latter” she said picking up an egg of one of the many succulents

She started with the kitchen, looking into the vegetable draw, nothing. So, her next guess. The garden!

The garden was one of her pride and joys with bin and bubbles, and carrots is one of the things they decided to grow. She walked down the stone path to the carrot bed where a map was, she picked it up as well as some eggs, which she was learning were kind like trail, a few scattered off the path for fun

“A map… into the woods seems legit” she said glancing it over “this leads to the wishing well? When's the last time any of us went to the wishing well”

“It's been awhile” he nodded as she took of running. The wishing well itself was actually just a run down well that at one point actually was well, but know it was somewhat of a safety hazard. She ran down to the path and at the edge of the well sat a bow, nicely wrapped in pink paper and blue bow. She unwrapped it quickly pulling out.. A bunnie dress

“I thought it was a nice change of pace from the cats”

“Where the hell do you even get these?” she asked some what amused at his able to find animal themes clothing

“I'll be honest here, i don't even try… they just show up and like… i'm not going to not get it”

“Ppl must think you have the strangest girl friend”

“Not gonna lie… they've asked a few times, her names lily and she's usually played by my friend caroline”

“Thank you caroline you're a brave sole” “That she is that she is” he smiled.. “Well that was dumb”

“I don't know it was fun… i haven't been on a easter egg hunt in a long time”

“My mom does the best ones” “Speaking of your mom why aren't you with her today again”

“Oh that's the other surprise” he said with smiled as they walked down the path, and there back at the garden she had left stood ashes parents, and her parents if she had a choice in the world. She picked up speed running to the couple's arms with a smile hugging them both tears streaming down her face

“OH MY GOSH MOM DAD WHAT”

“We flew out this mourning” ashes dad said tossing her hair

“We have always talked about visiting where you too always run off too, so we surprised ash this mourning, were staying for dinner” mom said with a smile

#kitta #ash #my writing #idk i was boured so i wrote something dumb #1831 words

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