#Summit Brewing

[auraeseer]

. . . got caught looking.

[chicagobeerpass]

Chicago Beer Pass: IPA Snacks

Welcome to the Chicago Beer Pass: Your ticket to all the great beer events happening in and around Chicago.

On this episode of Chicago Beer Pass, Brad Chmielewski and Nik White have themselves a little IPA Snack to usher in what they hope is Spring and not Chicago's "false Spring". Brad picked up these cans of Raptor Snacks from District Brew Yards and felt like it was just what they needed: a classic IPA. This beer doesn't disappoint and is a good reminder of the tasty beer coming out of District Brew Yards all the time. As the guys crush a few cans, Nik shares a little about his recent trip to Cider Summit.

Having issues listening to the audio? Try the MP3 (36.3 MB) or subscribe to the podcast on Spotify.

[crushribbons]

𝖇𝖎𝖗𝖉𝖎𝖊, 𝖕𝖙. 𝖎𝖎

summary: Sebastian Sallow should have been a Ravenclaw, again. (series masterlist)

cw: 3.5k words, fluff, light angst-adjacent content but really just more pining, brief smut (18+ ONLY), oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, suggestions of dubcon, fem reader, i make you think abt seb in a towel again 😵‍💫 request

a/n: sorry for teasin' xx laney

The same annoying tendril of hair fell in her eye for the hundredth time that hour. She huffed hard in frustration and slapped it (and her own face, a bit) away, looking back down at the mostly-blank roll of parchment in front of her. The essay would not write itself, no matter how long she spent procrastinating by looking for and through any library books that would tell her how to get the essay to write itself. History of Magic was a special torture unlike any other. Might be best to pull out the old “dugbog ate my essay” routine on the impassive Professor Binns.

Besides, even if she had wanted to wax on about the Balkan Wizarding Summit of 1678 for several pages, she wouldn’t have been able to. Not with the thoughts that had been occupying the entirety of her brain since that fateful night two weeks ago. The night she kept finding herself returning to whenever her head hit her pillow, or whenever she had a quiet, absent moment brewing Wiggenweld in Potions, or whenever she walked or thought or breathed. The night when she’d witnessed her dear old chum Sebastian dripping wet out of the bath, water running down every line of his tanned and lightly freckled torso right to the top of a towel that was slung low on hips boasting a noticeable “V”, hair stuck to his forehead and cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The sight had floored her in such an unexpected way that a hysterical giggle had popped out of her mouth before she could stop it, and she saw Sebastian’s jaw tick in annoyance. 

As she’d walked away from the encounter, she had tried with all her might to pretend it hadn’t happened. It was funny, really, a silly and awkward little moment between two friends. That was all.

That was all, she’d reminded herself the next morning, brushing her teeth after a night of tossing and turning and peering at her puffy face in the bathroom mirror.

No great ordeal, she’d chastised her active imagination as she hopped on her broom and did a few laps around the Quidditch fields, hoping the bitter cold air would jolt her back to her senses.

And he probably doesn’t even remember it, she reasoned with herself every night while she closed the curtains around her bed, cast a silencing charm, and pulled her nightgown up around her waist. Sebastian had never been something to look at like that before, so why was she whining out his name every night, a hand that she desperately wished was his stuffed inside her underwear. 

This was Sebastian, she was dreaming about, after all. Her birdie, her inquisitive and acerbic classmate who seemed to need to know everything about her and whose laugh devolved into fits of snorting whenever he saw someone trip. And it wasn’t as if she’d seen him in the full nude; why was the sight of his bare chest and back sending her into such fits of ecstasy? It felt ridiculous, yet logic rarely won out over the way her heart pounded painfully whenever he made eye contact with her now.

Two days after the incident, they’d met in their usual seats in Transfiguration, and Sebastian had immediately broken the tension she was sure existed by bluntly saying, “I’m going to keep all my clothes on this time, I swear,” as she sat down beside him. She could feel red shame creeping up the back of her neck and prayed it wasn’t appearing over the top of her robes. 

“Good, I nearly had to go to the hospital wing and get my eyes removed after that,” she had sniffed in return, but both of them grinned and settled into their old routine of passing notes and coughing loudly whenever Ominis had to answer a question. For reasons unclear, it drove him mad.

Everything gradually fell back to normal, though she found that she could no longer use her affectionate nickname for him. She’d tried, once, when Sebastian had been pestering her for information on the Arithmancy exam she’d taken earlier in the day and that he was now staring down the barrel of. The stress had him grabbing at handfuls of his hair so they stuck out like he’d been hit with a blasting curse, and he’d begged for every detail she could remember, until she finally spluttered, “Questions, questions, questions! Leave me alone and go study yourself, birdie!” 

His mouth had clamped shut. Rare. Too rare. 

He had seemed so uncomfortable after that, shifting around in his chair so much and eventually getting to his feet and leaving with a weak joke, that she’d made up her mind never to call him birdie again. Clearly, he had lost his preference for it after their nighttime encounter, probably assuming condescension on her part. Nothing could be further than the truth; she just adored his incessant chirping so much that she wished she could carry him around on her finger all day. 

Whatever his thoughts on the matter were, something small had shifted between them that she couldn’t quite place her finger on. As the empty parchment roll looked glumly back at her in the dim candlelight of the library, she decided that she had had enough working for one day and slammed the tome in front of her shut. Dust flew everywhere and she spat it out of her mouth with disdain.

Trudging along to the Great Hall to see if there were any scraps of dinner still left, she considered a few other interactions with Sebastian and deemed them perfectly normal. The nickname was what seemed to set him off. Oh well, she sighed. Probably best that I don’t have a pet name for the man I can’t stop picturing naked, anyway.

Ominis and Sebastian were seated across from each other at the Slytherin table, and after passing by her own house table to snag a plate of shepherd’s pie and a small dessert, she sat down beside Sebastian and asked him how the Arithmancy exam had gone after all.

He screwed his eyes shut and groaned, his upper lip curling and head thrown back to expose his long neck. Her stomach swirled and she set the fork that had been on its way to her mouth back down. This man now made her lose all sense of reason. Her body was reacting in ways she wasn’t even familiar with now, all because of one stupid towel. “Oh, please don’t ask. I’ll be surprised if they even let me take my NEWT in Arithmancy. Horrendous.” 

She tried to pull herself together and respond as normal friends normally do. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad. You always do wonderfully on exams and beat yourself up far more than you should,” she murmured evenly, picking at the pie. She turned to the man who looked far more appetizing. 

“Well, someone needs to,” he pouted, sticking his bottom lip out and resting his head on his hand as he looked at her. Ominis rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“The ego on you,” he sighed, scraping the last bit of chocolate torte on his plate onto his fork. “Surprised your head doesn’t weigh down the rest of your body.” “It’s balanced out by the monster I’ve got down here,” Sebastian grinned like a devil and patted his upper thigh.

It’s a joke, it’s a joke, it’s a stupid joke made by a dumb boy with an ugly face and no sense of humor, it’s a joke. The mantra rattled around in her head for a few good seconds then drifted out her ears as she abandoned it in favor of considering what it might look like if he wasn’t joking. It was very unhelpful. 

She cleared her throat and pushed the shepherd’s pie away from her, replacing it with the dessert instead. It wasn’t until she scooped up a piece and brought it up to her mouth that her distracted brain realized what it was.

“Ah, my favorite again. Finally,” Sebastian said, and then he was leaning over her, hand resting on the top of her leg to steady himself as he intercepted the piece of cherry tart and pulled it off her fork with his teeth before she could eat it herself. Everything inside her shut down. Her mouth hung agape as she watched him hum in rapturous delight and chew the tart. He gave the top of her leg a swat and said, “All yours now. I’ve already had three.”

Words wouldn’t come. Thoughts wouldn’t come. Only the sensation of his large, warm hand pressing into her leg and the proximity of his face to hers as he’d stolen the bite existed. She had been able to smell whatever scent he wore, and it was something like pine needles and black pepper, although maybe that was just residual from a Herbology class. Even after he’d made a parting joke and climbed to his feet, Ominis and him exiting the hall engaged in a discussion of Quidditch prospects, the scent filled her nose and drove her light-headed. 

Having a massive, soul-sucking crush on your friend was not for the faint of heart, she decided, as she pushed the tart away, too, and left for her dormitory. Her insides were wound so tight she was worried they would snap, and her panties were so covered in slick by the time she reached her empty bedroom that she stripped down and tugged on her dressing gown. A bath, she needed a nice, hot bath to wash away the grime of her thoughts.

The dressing gown’s thin material slipped off her shoulders as she gathered clean pajamas and braided her hair up and off her neck, and she grunted with annoyance. She had really appreciated the gift of the robe, a hand-me-down from Poppy, but the aged and stretched cotton would not stay up on either of their shoulders. She tied the belt as tight as she could around her waist and slipped out of the dormitory, making her way through the sea of students sweating over homework and revisions in the common room.

The prefects’ bathroom sounded heavenly, especially as the cold stone floor of the castle bit through her thin slippers and the passing of a careless ghost’s cloak through her right shoulder left her shivering. She ambled up stairs and down them, through corridors, and used more than one hidden passage, old hat to her at this point, until she ended up in the faculty tower. Only a few more flights separated her and warm, soapy relief from the thoughts of Sebastian plaguing her. 

It wasn’t terribly late yet, and a couple Ravenclaw students mingled on the landing just below the bathrooms. They waved at her and she waved back, their names escaping her but giving them a jovial smile all the same. Beginning her final ascent, she watched the steps in front of her and tried to recall where she knew their faces from. She was still racking her brain for their identities when she ran into a wall.

“Ugh!” she cried, irritated that she had been jostled out of her thoughts by the unyielding stone. Then the stone did yield and she looked up, startled.

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” Sebastian said with raised eyebrows. He stood on the step above her, wearing dark blue pajamas, a towel slung over his shoulder and wet hair carefully parted and combed. Even fully-clothed, he took her breath away. As usual. A small knick under his jaw told her he’d cut himself shaving, and she wished with everything inside her that she could kiss the tiny cut. Not really friendship behavior, though.

She tried to clear her throat, searching for something witty to say in return. “No,” was what she finally came up with. “We can’t.” 

“Prefects’ bathroom is superior, isn’t it?”

“Mmmm.”

“Aren’t you glad to see I remembered these this time?” He plucked at the pinstripe pajama pants. 

No. “Yes, I certainly am.”

“Are you going to bed straight after?”

“I think so.”

“What time are you getting breakfast?”

“Is that enough questions yet?!” She spluttered, feeling her nerves recede a bit as his chirping tickled her. He smiled broadly.

“What else can you expect from your b-birdie?” He tripped over the last word and his smile faltered. Something unchecked in her chest stirred. Sebastian Sallow did not trip over his words. He picked each one carefully and considered the potential outcomes they would elicit in every situation. Why was this one ridiculous little pet name causing the both of them so much awkwardness?

She opened her mouth to try and tell him that she expected nothing less, but stopped when she saw his hazel eyes suddenly widen and travel down from her face to her chest. Before she had time to be confused, she realized that her shoulders were suddenly freezing and goosebumps had broken out over her clavicle. The damned dressing gown had once again slipped down, nearly to her elbows, and couldn’t pull it back up fast enough. A large swathe of her chest had been exposed, and despite the cold, heat flared in her sternum and rose up her neck to her face as she yanked the gown up and clutched it closed at her neck. 

“Fuck off, it was an accident,” she hissed without thinking when Sebastian’s eyes did not return to their normal size. Humiliation was seeping into her bones, settling there like a disease that no healer could cure. Things had just returned to normal, (well, as normal as they could get now that she could think of little else than Sebastian’s body), and now they were having a repeat performance. Whatever god was orchestrating this rigamarole had a cruel spirit indeed. 

“I-I know,” Sebastian stammered. Ever the charming Slytherin, he recovered himself quickly and added, “Hey, we’re even now. You saw me and I saw–nothing!” He turned course mid-sentence and threw his hands up in a defensive pose when she glared at him. He really never knew when the right and wrong times to make a joke were.

“Just…good night!” She all but snapped, brushing past him and up the rest of the stairs, not bothering to look back at him as she jogged towards the bathroom door. The prefect standing sentry outside waved her in and she bolted for the women’s baths. 

How fucking humiliating could life get? Like a silly, love-drunk girl, she had developed some very confusing and sinful feelings for Sebastian, all because she’d seen him a little bit wet. Granted, his tanned skin had been shining under the droplets of water, and his back was taut and muscular from years of bludger-beating, and his legs were long enough to make her lose her way, and gods, what on earth had that thin, grey towel been concealing…

As she sunk into the steaming bath and mounds of bubbles, she let out one final wail of lament for her dignity before plunging underwater.

Her dreams that night reached a new summit of horror.

First, she was lost in a maze of hallways. They weren’t Hogwarts hallways, but she knew she was running late for an exam all the same. Every corner she rounded and door she opened displayed empty rooms and brick walls. Time ticked past at an extraordinary pace, the exam start time creeping steadily nearer but her destination refused to show itself, despite her panicked sprinting. When she finally found herself in something resembling a classroom, fifty students crouched over individual desks and scribbling away, she felt a momentary wash of relief. 

Then, a hand was wrapping itself around her leg and she was screaming. The hand yanked her backwards out of the classroom and down the hall, the room fading from her view as her unseen kidnapper pulled her at an impossible pace. A bright flash of light and she felt the hand unwrap from her calf and something retreat into the darkness. Sebastian was suddenly in front of her, taking her head in his hands and murmuring something she couldn’t make out. He seemed to be concerned about her, but all she could feel was his warmth and safety and she felt herself tumbling into his lake-hazel eyes. 

They were kissing before she could figure out why the exam didn’t seem to matter anymore. “Oh, God, sweetheart,” Sebastian was rasping as he pulled his lips away, face hazy with want. She whined and tugged him back to her, and she found herself in a location she couldn’t quite make out in the semi-darkness, but her back was pressed against something more comfortable than the marble hallway floors that Sebastian had rescued her from. 

He was slotting a leg in between hers and kneading it gently around. Her body felt vaguely light and floaty, a new breed of arousal building as she bumped herself against his leg and pulled his bottom lip into her mouth. 

“Seb,” she gasped, but he was already gone, pulling her dressing gown–goddamn that dressing gown, haunting her even here!–down and ripping it off entirely so she was exposed to him. Dream Sebastian had longer hair. It curled slightly around his ears and brushed the bottom of his neck, tickling her when he leaned back down to kiss her neck with hot, wet lips. 

She would later admit that she quite preferred the power she held in the realm of her subconscious to the power she held in reality; perhaps wielding ancient magic was a benefit for some, but willing Sebastian’s clothes away and feeling the all-too-real heat of him pressed against her naked body gave her more of a thrill than she ever could have summoned.

In an instant, she found him sunk between her legs, hot mouth ghosting over her weeping heat and then delving into it. She shrieked, letting it dissolve into a moan as his tongue swirled around her clit and he sucked it into a gentle kiss. Her hands dug into his sandy brown hair, using the extra length to her advantage and tugging. Why was it so long?

"You taste so divine, I knew it," he was groaning. "Better than any fucking tart."

Time was strange. They stayed wrapped in each other for a year and a minute simultaneously, and then he was fucking her with a savage gentleness that made her weep. His slow, hard movements were almost cruel in their sweetness. And she even managed to notice, through her daze, that his cock was just as he'd promised, its thickness splitting her open and making her eyes roll back in her head.

He was panting, his words once more indiscernible but seemingly lust-fueled. The sensation of his cock pushing into her made her body, small under his powerful frame, shake. Using his defined abdomen, he pushed himself up as he continued fucking her and cried, “Shit, baby, come for me! I’m all fucking yours.”

Her orgasm gained ground and was cresting high and wide when he added, “Let me see you cry when you come real pretty, please? Hm? Come on, I’ll be a good little birdie, I swear.”

Her eyes snapped open and she sucked in a huge breath of air, chest heaving, her sheets wrapped around and clinging to her sweat-ridden body. She was positively drenched, both outwardly and inwardly, and the rising frustration when she realized that she was very much alone in her bed and that the dream was slipping through the cracks in her memory like water made her roll over, stuff her face into her pillow, and scream.

Ominis thought about what a wonderful friend he was for putting up with that disorganized slob Sallow as he dug through the disorganized slob’s school bag for a new bottle of ink. When he had run out in the middle of his homework, Sebastian had absently waved him upstairs to the bedroom and told him to grab a fresh bottle from his bag, his gaze never leaving the teetering tower of shortbread he was building. 

“What a prince,” Ominis grunted to himself, feeling around for anything glass and instead receiving several paper cuts from the loose pages Sebastian kept stuffed away, in case he was ever caught needing garbage. His slim hand closed around a small bottle and he smiled in triumph, eager to be done with his spelunking expedition. As he yanked the bottle through the layers of debris in the bag, the force required caused him to stumble backwards, just a step, and into Sebastian’s nightstand. Something thudded onto the floor and Ominis bent to sweep his hands over the floor and find it.

A book, hardcover, without rips or tears to indicate its age. Ominis picked it up and felt around the cover, curious to see what nighttime reading his friend was doing, and curious to see if it happened to be his first voluntary non-Quidditch-related read. The embossed letters on the front were so shiny and slick that he found it hard to make out the title using just his touch, so Ominis pulled his wand from his pocket and held it over the book, words coming into clearer focus in his mind’s eye. 

Legilimency and the Dreamer, the book proclaimed. A subtitle at the bottom of the cover read: “Infiltrating the sleeping mind, for the beginner.”

Ominis snorted and threw the book back on Sebastian’s night stand, wondering whom it actually belonged to. Definitely not Sallow's.

pt. 3

masterlist

[todayontumblr]

Monday, November 6.

Bob Ross.

Well, you know what they say. When the going gets tough, the tough get comfortable, make themselves a warm brew (like herbal tea or hot chocolate, par exemple), and snuggle down with lights dimmed and their faces illuminated by laptop screen glow. Here, they sit and watch one of #bob ross' many classic episodes, like Mountain Summit, or Valley View, and enjoy the show's blissfully 80s theme music, simplistic décor, Mr Ross' liberally-buttoned shirt, and soft, yet gravely, timbre. For 30 minutes, they enjoy Mr Ross painting a landscape scene: a lake, a sunset, a mountain. And it is after this point, and only after, that the tough get going. 

[coochiequeens]

I know this blog focuses on TIMs invading women’s sports and locker rooms but Saving Women’s Sports means more than that. Like calling out sexist bs when companies give men real clothes to compete in and women get basically underwear.

The Nike Air Innovation Summit in Paris on Thursday.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

By Vanessa Friedman April 12, 2024

Ever since the Norwegian women’s beach handball team turned the fact that they were required to wear teeny-tiny bikini bottoms for competition into a cause célèbre, a quiet revolution has been brewing throughout women’s sports. It’s one that questions received conventions about what female athletes do — or don’t — have to wear to perform at their very best.

It has touched women’s soccer (why white shorts?), gymnastics (why not a unitard rather than a leotard?), field hockey (why a low-cut tank top?) and many more, including running.

So it probably should not have come as a shock to Nike that when it offered a sneak peek of the Team U.S.A. track and field unies during a Nike Air event in Paris celebrating its Air technology on Thursday (which also included looks for other Olympic athletes, like Kenya’s track and field team, France’s basketball team and Korea’s break dancing delegation), they were met with some less-than-enthusiastic reactions.

See, the two uniforms Nike chose to single out on the mannequins included a men’s compression tank top and mid-thigh-length compression shorts and a woman’s bodysuit, cut notably high on the hip. It looked sort of like a sporty version of a 1980s workout leotard. As it was displayed, the bodysuit seemed as if it would demand some complicated intimate grooming.

Citius Mag, which focuses on running news, posted a photo of the uniforms on Instagram, and many of its followers were not amused.

“What man designed the woman’s cut?” wrote one.

“I hope U.S.A.T.F. is paying for the bikini waxes,” wrote another. So went most of the more than 1,900 comments.

The running comedian Laura Green posted an Instagram reel in which she pretended to be trying on the look (“We’re feeling pretty, um, breezy,” she said) and checking out the rest of the athlete’s kit bag, which turned out to include hair spray, lip gloss and a “hysterectomy kit,” so the women would not have to worry about periods.

When asked, Nike did not address the brouhaha directly, but according to John Hoke, the chief innovation officer, the woman’s bodysuit and the man’s shorts and top are only two of the options Nike will have for its Olympic runners. There are “nearly 50 unique pieces across men’s and women’s and a dozen competition styles fine-tuned for specific events,” Mr. Hoke said.

Sha’Carri Richardson

Women will be able to opt for compression shorts, a crop top or tank and a bodysuit with shorts rather than bikini bottoms. The full slate of looks was not on hand in Paris but more will be revealed next week at the U.S. Olympic Committee media summit in New York. The Paris reveal was meant to be a teaser.

Anna Cockrell.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

Mr. Hoke also pointed out that Nike consults with a large number of athletes at every stage of the uniform design. Its track and field roster includes Sha’Carri Richardson, who happened to be wearing the compression shorts during the Paris presentation, and Athing Mu. And there are certainly runners who like the high-cut brief. (The British Olympic sprinter Dina Asher-Smith, another Nike athlete, told The New York Times last summer that while she opts to run in briefs, she also leans toward a leotard style, rather than a two-piece.)

What Nike missed, however, was that in choosing those two looks as the primary preview for Team U.S.A., rather than, say, the matching shorts and tanks that will be also available, it shored up a longstanding inequity in sports — one that puts the body of a female athlete on display in a way it does not for the male athlete.

“Why are we presenting this sexualized outfit as the standard of excellence?” said Lauren Fleshman, a U.S. national champion distance runner and the author of “Good for a Girl.” “In part because we think that’s what nets us the most financial gain from sponsors or NIL opportunities, most of which are handed out by powerful men or people looking at it through a male gaze. But women are breaking records with ratings in sports where you don’t have to wear essentially a bathing suit to perform.”

The problem such imagery creates is twofold. When Nike chose to reveal the high-cut bodysuit as the first Olympics outfit, purposefully or not, the implication for anyone watching is that “this is what excellence looks like,” Ms. Fleshman said.

That perception filters down to young athletes and becomes the model girls think they have to adopt, often at a developmental stage when their relationships with their bodies are particularly fraught.

And more broadly, given the current political debate around adjudicating women’s bodies, it reinforces the idea that they are public property.

Still, Ms. Fleshman said, “I’m glad Nike put this image out as the crown jewel of Olympic Team design,” because it may act as the catalyst for another conversation that has been long overdue.

“If you showed this outfit to someone from the W.N.B.A. or women’s soccer, they would laugh in your face,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to normalize it for track and field anymore. Time’s up on that.”

[ari-burr]

❝ ɪ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ɪɴ ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴄᴇ ɪ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ɴᴏ ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ❞ 

featuring: state of japan // kiku + kuro x country!reader

genre: routine, romance, angst, fluff, history - with some spice ;>

⁀➷ Mornings with Kiku and Kuro are peaceful. By the time you wake up, your senses would be filled with the calming aroma of boiling tea. And with your mind drowsy and yawning, you would smile and fall back down onto the shared cushions at the knowledge that the two actually brewed your favorite drink as a result of your mindless rambles.

⁀➷ Every time you were to speak to Kiku, he always looked you in the eyes. Expressing in his own subtle way, that you always had his attention. Kuro on the other hand, had a habit of avoiding your longing gazes and charming tones but would seem to have no trouble in recalling the meaning behind your words. Seamlessly memorizing all the smallest details, and keeping it in thought for the next conversation. 

⁀➷ When you finally work up the motivation to wriggle out of the comfort of the futon, you would head down stairs while rubbing away the sleepiness from your eyes. In the kitchen, you could hear Kuro and Kiku’s soothing whispers in their native language. [Kuro isn’t a morning person at all, but at least he compensates for the silent brooding by making breakfast.]  And while you couldn’t decipher what exactly they were saying, you enjoyed the sound of their voices nonetheless. 

⁀➷ Already, there would be a cup filled with steaming tea, waiting for you on the table. As you sat down and took a sip, your ears would perk up at the sound of the two men approaching, still enraptured on the topic they were talking about. Eventually though, curiosity would’ve had gotten the better of you and you would’ve asked, “What are you two talking about?” with listless amusement. 

⁀➷ Kiku, who was slightly better at English, would be the first to answer. He would explain that their meeting was cancelled due to a certain American’s realization that he accidently booked himself back to back. “That moron. . .” you would say in between fits of laughter. “I’ve only met him in passing, but it’s hard to think that he’s a world-superpower when he acts so silly all the time.” 

⁀➷ A long time ago, you would have never guessed that you would end up with these two and apparently, they were on the same boat. Back then, the most you were to each other were acquaintances but Kiku was the first to take notice of you. You were an isolated country and was forced out into the world by bigger nations like him. However, the difference between him and you was that you more fearless towards the unknown. Of course, he could still see the hesitance in your eyes whenever you interacted with nations like Britain or America. You were just as nervous as he was and yet you still smiled on.

⁀➷ For Kuro, he didn’t care enough to pay attention to you at the start. You were probably the most unlucky personification he’s ever met because you didn’t have a 2p. Which resulted in you being forced to attend both 1p and 2p national summits. But as these meetings tracked on with your presence, he would find his eyes drawn to yours more and more. Ultimately taking notice of how you would quiver beneath those narrowed eyes from the other 2ps. You were a nation just like them, but that didn’t mean you belonged. [A small part of him almost sympathized].

⁀➷ As time went on, you and Kiku would’ve gotten closer with him slowly developing feelings for you, and you staying oblivious until the very last moment. Underneath Kiku’s distant expression and formal words would be a turmoil of frustration and longing for you. You were known to be a naturally affectionate person, but you always strayed from laying a hand on him due to taking notice of Kiku’s discomfort whenever America and Italy would embrace him. 

⁀➷ He knew for a fact that it was his own fault from putting himself in this dilemma, but at the same time, he was too afraid to do anything about it. But everyone, even the ones who had the most self-control, had their limits and he had to speak to someone other than you to express his dismay. 

And that’s how Kuro finally came into the picture. 

⁀➷ Unlike most 1p and 2p nations, Kiku and Kuro would of had closer relations as they held similar interests and personalities which complimented the other. But regardless of how much respect Kuro had for his counterpart, irritation would still linger on. Your name was like a profanity. He was fine at first with his counterpart venting out his frustrations, but soon enough, every conversation became about you. About the way you smiled, the way you blushed and stuttered; he knew it all.

⁀➷ It didn’t help that Kuro had to see you on a daily basis. Seeing your face and your oh so awkward yet charming grin; it made his blood boil. However, for some odd reason, whenever you approached to greet him, all his malice laced thoughts would wash away like salted waters on sand. His resting scowl would immediately soften as you spoke to him about mundane matters and politics alike. Were you trying to be friends with him. . .? 

⁀➷ Truth was, no, not really. Back then, your goal was to be well-liked by the majority while also standing in the side lines. You weren’t one for the spotlight as it always blinded you from reality. So, you stuck to befriending the calmer nations, finding solace in the lack of complexities that came with befriending superpowers. Japan was by far your favorite nation. 

His 2p being hot interesting was just a bonus. 

⁀➷ “[Y/n]-chan, do you remember what you said to me before?” Kiku asked. 

You tilted your head. “Uhm, that you should grow out your hair?”

“Uh, no-”

“That your 2p’s kinda hot?”

Kiku’s face warmed with embarrassment. 

“N...No. It was-”

“What’s cooking good lookin’?”

“[Y/n]-chan, please, let me speak.”

⁀➷ It took a while for the latter to get the words out, but eventually. . .

“. . .I have feelings for you,” he said, his lips trembling at the notion. 

You were left speechless, your eyes instinctively moving to his lips. Slowly yet surely, you leaned in to kiss them still. 

“I love you too.”

⁀➷ From then on, Kiku and you became a couple, which was a relief for Kuro. He wouldn’t have to listen to Kiku’s mind-numbing rambles now that he was all focused on you. But as things slowly began to settle with the dust, the universe had to insult him with a sudden rush of emotions, and not the bad kind [which was oddly even worse]. Whenever he saw you with Kiku, in the budding garden, or deflowered beneath the sheets, jealousy would arise. But he would always refuse to acknowledge it. Kuro valued his honor and held high regard for his counterpart. And besides, what point is there to crushes when they’re already swept away by someone else?

⁀➷ Having Kuro as an extra addition to your and Kiku’s relationship took a long time, especially when both personifications of Japan are known for their lack of skill in communication. Things eventually escalated though, when you began to notice Kuro’s desired glances or the softened notes in his voice whenever you two came into contact. You brought this up to Kiku, and soon enough, he took notice as well (despite initially brushing it off in the long-held belief that Kuro had no interest in anything “love and romance.”)

⁀➷  “Kuro?”

“Hm?” He looked up from his painting, his ruby orbs meeting yours. 

“Do you like me?” You asked, your head tilted with curiosity. 

He scowled.  

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then I have nothing to say.”

“So. . .no?” 

“No.” 

“No as in yes? Or “no” as in no?”

“Yes.”

“What.”

⁀➷ You got kicked out of his room. 

And Kiku had to comfort you while you were busy sulking in the corner. 

“He treats me like I’m the bane of his sad existence!” You cried out. “What the hell did I do to him. . .?”

He sighed softly, “[Y/n], I assure you that you did nothing wrong. It’s simply that Kuro isn’t one to be vulnerable with his truer emotions.”

You pouted, your brows furrowing in frustration.

“. . .He’s a kuudere, isnt he?”

“I’ll go speak with him.”

⁀➷ After some gentle coaxing from Kiku, sooner or later, Kuro does end up confessing his thoughts and desires. Everything else fell into place after that ♡

— ꜱᴘɪᴄʏ (💘) ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

➸ When things become heavy and heated between you and Kiku, Kuro would shamelessly walk in and keep his presence hidden, biting his lip with desire as Kiku pins you down onto the cushions (...his gentle hands roaming over your smooth skin.) But that’s when you two would hear a quiet sip from across the living room and see Kuro, the perverted bastard sitting on a chair with a smug look on his lips. And as his hand swirled his steaming cup of tea, he would ask: “Why did you two stop? Continue :]”

This sets Kiku off, so he decides to give Kuro a taste of his own medicine. 

➸ With your pretty face burning with pinks and reds, you feel Kiku slip off your clothes one by one, exposing your skin to the icy atmosphere in contrast to the heated moment. Kissing down your neck and shoulders and leaving love bites along the way, you feel his lips travel further south. In the corner of eye, you would witness Kuro struggling against his restraints as Kiku makes him watch as you get violated by him. 

➸ Kuro is infamous for making your knees weak whenever he pulls you close to capture your lips, his fingers tantalizingly unzipping your pretty, perfectly stylized dress after a soirée. What makes you almost pass out though is the when he slips his tongue between your lips and takes you from there. 

➸ Kiku however, enjoys teasing you through sensory deprivation. He’s trained enough to go for months without intimacy regardless of his high libido. So, he’ll being smiling secretly watching as you whine and pine for his touch. It’s a little cruel but he’ll say things like “darling, you must learn to restrain yourself” and “i’ll satisfy you when i’m ready..” in an almost teasing manner. 

But the moment you begin whimpering at pawing at his clothes, he’ll pounce at the opportunity. 

➸ Kiku and Kuro may be all “polite” and “honorable” for the most part, but behind close doors? 

They’re handcuffs, bondage, toys, and blindfolds.

That’s as much as I’m going to elaborate. 

note: @sparklingbluerose thank you so much for the request! sorry for the long wait  (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ ) ‧º

[vivs-fics]

Just As It Is

Bucky Barnes x Reader

College AU

No minors allowed. Read at your own discretion.

TW: Swearing, religious imagery, smoking, mention of underage drinking

Part 1

Dark clouds linger overhead, far too close for comfort. A twinge in the air and rain birds circling the sky makes unease swell in the pit of my stomach. A storm is brewing, something dark this way comes- and here I am walking down the street with no jacket, no umbrella and Bucky’s place nowhere in sight.

I quicken my pace. Shoes stomping heavily on the asphalt, desperate to outrun the impending shower- to no avail. Thunder claps, electricity crackles, the birds make their descent in the sky behind me and the floodgates of the dreaded downpour open. I feel the rain spilling through my hair, the chill crawling down my spine and soaking my clothes. I wish more than anything just to be inside, warm and in good company.

The D&D campaign tonight is one I’ve been looking forward to for weeks. Bucky let me in on a few minor details now and again. This story was meant to be his most enticing yet, described by the man himself as “a fuckin’ mind-blowing maelstrom of malice, monsters and murder.” He added that the alliteration was meant to captivate and create anticipation- fucking English majors.

I have a feeling we’ll be trekking through some haunted castle, infested by a lonesome vampire luring innocents into his clutches. I recall when the theory solidified for me, it was just a few days ago- after classes had ended for the semester. Bucky and I were meeting up on the benches on the edge of campus for our afternoon chit-chat and I convinced him to act out a snippet from the forthcoming adventure.

Bucky slinked behind me, fallen auburn leaves crunched under his boots and the chains on his pants clinked together- I held my breath as he brushed his fingers over the side of my neck. The touch was light, almost untactile- nevertheless my skin felt like it was lit ablaze. The flames spread, embers sizzled deep in my stomach, the red blaze surged through my arms, and it settled in the tips of my fingers.

Blood rushed to my ears and my heart pounded against my chest, I could feel his breath on my neck. “Are you scared, little bird? Or do the pleasures of the night entice you? Are you willing to take this journey and receive your hearts desires, or do you fear the lurking horrors may consume you before you reach the summit?” Bucky whispered. A shuddering breath escaped my lips, and I took a moment to compose myself, a shoddily concealed smile on my face, “Jamie is the whole campaign going to be voiced in that sultry, bad guy accent?”��              

He beamed, “I guess you’ll have to wait and see, sweetheart. You should, however, expect to be wowed beyond your wildest dreams.” He raised his right hand and touched it to his heart, “That’s your beloved dungeon master’s guarantee.”

He sat himself down on the bench next to me, the wood creaked under his weight, and I brought my eyes up to him- I found myself lost in the vast blue of his eyes.  

God, he’s beautiful. Gazing upon the pastels of a rococo could not compare to him. The glittering of all Klimt’s work would never be able to culminate to the way he shines, my Bucky glows from the inside. The light in his eyes are millions of stars burning in the sky, had Van Gogh’s masterpiece been done today, surely Vincent would have drawn inspiration from them. The figures taken out of stone by the great Michelangelo wouldn’t amount to the statuesque beauty I see in him, skin smoother than marble and a face that could have only been carved by the divine.

 “You alright, Birdie? Somethin’ on your mind?” His voice was smoother than honey, it dripped from his lips slowly and it covered me in its splendour. I shook my head. I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t allow myself to say just how much he means to me. I couldn’t risk ruining years of friendship and muddying the dynamic we have. We’re in tandem, parallel lines that are destined to run beside each other for as long as the universe allows.

“What’s up with the ‘Birdie’ thing, Buck? Were you inspired by my beady eyes or the way I flew down from the trees to see you today?” I jested in the hope it would cover up the black hole that would in the pit of my stomach.

His eyes drifted down, and his ring-clad hand pulled a fallen leaf fragment from my sweater. Bucky shrugged, “I don’t know, it was in my dialogue for the campaign. I thought I’d run with it, it’s cute. It suits you.” He leaned back, palms flat on the dark wood of the bench. He tilted his head back and flashed me a bashful smile.

I look toward him in earnest, and he continues his ramble, “No, actually, it’s stupid. Sorry, sweetheart.”

He shook his head, the beautiful cascade of brown hair framed his face and I retorted, “No, no. I was joking Jamie, I do like it. It’s just different, is all. You had me thinking someone usurped my title of your cherished sweetheart. I was just brainstorming my plan of action- you know- setting my targets and ensuring I could retrieve the name that’s rightfully mine.”

He sat up and rubbed his hands down the length of my arms, a comforting gesture. A reassuring one. Hands caressed me like the singed spine of a book salvaged from the fires of Alexandria- as if I were a priceless artefact not to be handled precariously. “Nobody could steal that from you, Birdie. And if you catch me callin’ anyone other than you, sweetheart, know that I’ve been body snatched and you need to come save me.”

 A laugh escaped me, he knows just how to make me feel safe when I’m with him, in every capacity. Bucky wrapped himself around me, encompassing me in the warmth that melts the welts of my worries. It’ll be fine, I thought to myself. I can do this. Right?

Rain beating down on me like the mighty wrath of Zeus hauls me out of the fond memory and pushes me back into my very cold, very wet reality. In the distance I can see the living room light turn on in Bucky’s home, the exterior of it seemingly harsh and bitter but it’s filled with more love and acceptance than I’ve experienced elsewhere. The wind whistles riotously as I bang on the door, “Jamie! I’m getting hypothermia out here! Can you open the fucking door please?”

He emerges, brows furrowed, “Birdie, what are you doin’ here? The campaign isn’t for another hour,” Realising that I look like a drowned subway rat he ushers me inside, “Shit, sorry! Come on in sweetheart, uh- let’s get you dry.”

“Thank you, Jamie, truly. Really glad you didn’t decide to leave me outside to die.” I shiver out. He looks at me apologetically. Jesus those eyes. He could get away with murder with those eyes. He could glance at St. Peter at heaven’s gates and Bucky would be admonished of all his sins. He’d be allowed in and be given the best resting place Heaven has to offer without so much as a word. They’re soft, an endless Mediterranean blue- so captivating it would rival Narcissus and his reflection.

He disappears for a moment and emerges with a dry article of clothing. Bucky extends his hand to me, the soft grey fabric now within my reach.

 “Here sweetheart, fresh shirt. You can go to the bathroom and change if you want. I’d offer my room but… truth be told, it’s a mess and I’d be embarrassed if you saw how I really lived.” He ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.  “I- uh- I can also grab a sweater for ya, if you’re still cold.” He adds, with a smile.

“Thanks, Buck.” A small grin graces my features, the cold that clung to me dissipates in the confines of his kindness. “My god, the Zeppelin shirt?” I clutch it to my chest and gasp dramatically. “Maybe I should walk to you in the rain more often, I don’t get this five-star treatment all the time.”

“Hush, sweetheart. You know I’d give you anything if you asked.” He retorts, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

After changing into something significantly more comfortable than the soaked fabric that clung to my skin, I return to the living room to find my knight in shining armour lighting a cigarette on the back porch. He turns to look at me and inhales, “You feelin’ better now?”

“Much,” I move to sit beside him on the battered porch swing, and tilt my body towards him, “Can I have a puff, Bucky? Light of my life, saviour of my world?” He smiles and puts the orange filter up to my lips, I breathe in. Letting the nicotine fill my lungs, I feel the menthol spread across my body, it tingles down my arms and a calm settles over me. 

“You want one for yourself sweetheart, or would you prefer to smoke half of mine like always?” He cocks his head to the side and smiles.

“I’m fine with our arrangement just the way it is, Jamie.” I shift over and place my head on his shoulder. He kisses the top of head, a familiar gesture. For him it was a sign of reassurance, as if he was saying: ‘you’re going to be okay as long as I’m here.’

“Why’d you decide to come here so early, Birdie? You miss me that much?”

“Don’t flatter yourself James, I just needed a smoke.” Taking a long drag of the cigarette, I close my eyes- happy to finally be where I needed to be.

He hums in acknowledgement. “Of course, sweetheart.”

“You want me to help you set up?” I enquire and he shakes his head.

“Nope. I got it all sorted out, you can just sit and look pretty.” He places his thumb and index finger onto my chin and squeezes, his nose scrunches up and a smile graces his face. “Although, that shouldn’t be a problem for you sweetheart.”

“Are you calling me lazy, Barnes?”

“I’m callin’ you beautiful, Birdie.” He says simply, the words roll off his tongue with no more effort than a breath.

 What I wouldn’t do for him to always look at me like this, with those azure eyes full of contentment. They’re warmer than the embrace of a summer’s day, than the encapsulating feel of steamy water in the bathtub, than a balmy breeze whispering past me on the beach.

“Oh, uh, Buck? I got you a little something.”

“What? You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart. You should know that you bein’ here is a gift in and of itself.”

A smile makes its way on to my face, and I chuckle, “Sure, but this is something that you absolutely need,” Sifting through the contents of my bag, I find it. A small black box with a glittery red bow on the top, “Here. Open it.”

With the unveiling of the contents of the box, Bucky’s face lights up- like a Christmas tree on December 25th.                                                                 “No fuckin’ way, sweetheart.” He shakes my shoulders excitedly and promptly goes back to admiring his new possession, running his fingers over the cold metal links, “Holy shit, this is so cool. A fuckin’ chainmail pouch? Is this for my dice?”

“Yes! You can keep them all together now, I know they always end up in weird places after campaigns so I thought this could help.”

“Thank you, Birdie. This is amazing.” He laughs.

What an angelic sound- comparable only to the trumpets of heaven or the symphonies of a divine orchestra. He wraps his arms around me and squeezes, “I love it.”

I turn to face him, bending my leg up on the worn porch swing, the wood is soft under my skin, such a familiar feeling- upon which so many memories were made. Bucky moves closer to me, an indistinguishable look in his eyes. My breath halts, it feels as if my lungs were dipped in iron. My insides are hot and there’s a fluttering in my stomach. Why’s he staring at me like that? Am I melting? It feels like I’m melting. Come on, get a hold of yourself. It’s just Bucky, looking at you the way he always does.

A small smile graces his face, the edges of his lips lifting ever so slightly and the corners of his eyes crinkling up. He tilts his head to the side and places his hand on my cheek, his thumb shifting up and down so gently I almost don’t notice. I wonder if this is how people experience religious euphoria. Is this how it feels to be touched by the hand of God? Could the promise eternal peace be held within the fingers that are caressing my face? Is it possible that the divine culminated in this Adonis of a man?

An abrupt knocking at the door startles me and Bucky recoils, “Let me, uh, I- I’ll get it.”

“Bucky, open up already!” A woeful gust of wind screeches outside the door. “Jesus Christ, Barnes, I’m gonna grow old and rot before you let us in!” Sam yells, announcing his presence.

“Alright, alright! I’m comin’.” Bucky shuffles to the door, a twinge of annoyance laced in his tone. His demeanour, however, shifts when the boys come inside. He’s happy to see them, he always is. I am too, they’re some of my best friends. I won’t lie to myself though; I would have appreciated them arriving just a few minutes later- if for no reason other than quelling the sheer curiosity about what was going to happen.

“If it took you any longer, Buck, I would have assumed you were dead.” After hugging him, Steve sets down his bag and greets me, “Y/N, Hey! It’s so good to see you. We didn’t interrupt anything did we?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“No, no, Stevie- you’re all good. I missed you.” I ruffle his hair when he comes over for a hug, my actions are met with a disgruntled groan from the six-foot-three puppy of a man.

Nat pulls up behind me and I embrace her excitedly, “Nat, baby! How have you been? How’s your girl?” She slinks her arm around my neck and in return I put my arm around her waist.

“We’re alright, hon. Why? Have you reconsidered our request for a threesome?”

“Aw, Natasha don’t flatter yourself. We agreed to do it without you, obviously.” I give her a light pat on the back and turn away, going to greet Sam.

The rest of the group starts filtering in after a bit, Steve and Thor creating their usual ruckus.

“Alright sinners, are we ready for the campaign of the century?” Bucky announces, as he stands at the head of the table- a king ready to lead his troops into battle. A Greek god, blessing his subjects with the greatest gift- a myth, a legend, a story to be passed down ear-to-mouth and mouth-to-ear for generations to come. And we, his loyal subjects listening in earnest, hanging onto every vowel, every consonant as if it were our life force- sustaining us. His words igniting a bonfire to provide light and warmth as we make our way through this ominous cascade of casting spells, battling beasts and me trying not to visibly sweat because of that sultry voice Bucky is speaking in.  Anxieties fly high as the six-hour campaign draws to a close.

“Xanaphia of Excelsior, you have travelled a distance incomparable to any other, you have seen nations built and destroyed, you have brazened the path to my home- a journey no man before you had been able to conquer. A path, little bird, no man should be able to survive.” Bucky narrates, his character so carved out and precise I almost don’t recognise him.

“Luckily for me, Alaric... I am no man.” I smile up at Bucky, he reciprocates- a genuine beam shines upon my face. I knew the Lord of the Rings reference would get to him. The rest of the room melts away, the cries of Sam telling me to finish the job and Scott excitedly banging his fists on the table become nothing but distant memories. Bucky stands, in all his glory- broad shoulders block the light behind him and a halo encompasses the edges of his physique. Is he an angel, or just the devil in ambient lighting? With his eyes piercing into mine like they are, I don’t think I could bring myself to care.

“No man indeed.” A corner of his mouth turns up, a devious smirk creeps onto his face. “So, little bird. What shall it be? I am completely at your mercy. You have me on my knees.”

 Everyone perches on the edge of their seats at the final roll of the D20, the last dance between my character and the Vampire at the top the Hill approaches. To stab or to seduce, that is the question. Will I succumb to the pleasures of the night or fight my desires and kill him for my brethren, currently surrounded by ghouls? I should kiss him, right? A move to seduce could ensure that the Vampire lets the surviving members of my party go, whereas a move to kill him could result in everyone being murdered. This is purely a selfless choice.

“I’ll roll for charisma. I want to kiss you- him! Ahem- Alaric.” Heat rises in my cheeks and a pit forms in my stomach. Oh, my God.

 A hush falls over the room, the booming of the dice upon the table is all that can be heard, save for the thudding of my heart that pounds in my ears. The resin contraption stills, and Bucky leans over to inspect what the gods have decided my fate shall be.

“A… a fuckin’ nat’ twenty.” He says in bewilderment, his voice barely above a whisper. And the crowd goes wild- jests and jeers come from all around the table.

“Alaric of the Hill concedes! Your kiss has bewitched him, congratulations. He decides to let your party go on the condition that you keep him company. Will you, Xanaphia, stay with Alaric and forgo all other quests?”

“Fuck yes.” I state triumphantly, relieved as all heaven that the risk I took paid off.

Celebratory drinks are raised, and toasts are made in my honour- to Xanaphia of Excelsior, she who could warm the heart of even the most cold-blooded of creatures.

 Bucky gets the music going and Thor pours the drinks, perhaps the most dangerous of combinations. Bodies push against each other, the sounds of Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me intertwine with the heavy breathing of the people in the room, dim lighting overhead makes for a danse macabre-esque sequence to play out around me. We are neither here, nor there. Dead, nor living. Could this be a man in front of me, or an angel? Deep shadows are carved under his cheekbones and his jaw is sharp under this light, threads of walnut hair are strewn across his face, moving with him to the music.

Rhythm flows through me, I lift my arms up close my eyes in sheer delight- being here with these people is all I could ask for.

Bucky is beckoned over to the kitchen and upon arrival, he laughs boisterously at something Sam says. Steve claps his shoulder and throws his head back as he always does when someone makes a stupid joke. I wonder if he knows that he lights up the room the way he does, if he has any idea of the fact that he could put the Nevada sun to shame, that all the bonfires in the world couldn’t amount to the warmth he brings to a room.

Well, perhaps this exact situation is not all I could ask for, but it will do just fine.

As the song reaches its summit Nat approaches me with an inebriated smile on her face, she reaches her hands out to me and interlocks her fingers with mine.

“Hey pretty girl, you havin’ fun?” the red head exclaims, her voice barely swimming above the music. We move together to the rhythm of the song; I sway my hips and look around the room, to find Bucky over by the counter, pouring himself another drink.

My eyes shift back to Nat, and I smile, “Of course, babe! It’s always a good time when you’re here.”

She lifts my hand and spins me before resuming our prior position. She raises a quizzical brow, “You sure, hon? Because you keep looking over in that direction.” Nat tilts her head towards Bucky. Of course she’d know. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to people’s feelings, sniffing out the source for minor ticks in their facial muscles, every dilation of their pupils and apparently each longing stare in their direction. “Y/N, do you have something to tell me?”

I shake my head, grimacing slightly, “Don’t worry about it, babe. It’s fine.”

“No, uh-uh. Come on.” Nat takes my hand and pulls me through the room and to the restroom. She points at the clawfoot tub, “Sit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Nat, I really don’t want to talk about it right now.” I turn my gaze from her, mortified at the prospect of having to spill my feelings.

“Baby, if you like Bucky it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’ve suspected it for a while now.”

“How the fuck did you know? I thought I was good at hiding it, Nat.”

“Freshman year, orientation mixer. Do you remember that Y/N? Because I do. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that drunk. You vomited into a flower pot- really not a good look for you, baby. Bucky showed up in that black leather jacket and you physically faltered when you saw him. I had to hold you up for the better part of five minutes because your legs, and I quote, ‘couldn’t possibly stay solid with how fucking hot he looked.’”

“Oh my God!” I exclaim and put my head in my hands, “I have to dig a hole and hide away in it forever. Nat- that’s fucking awful. You never told me!”

“I assumed you’d bring it up when you wanted to talk about it,” She shrugs, as if she hadn’t just unearthed the one dirty little skeleton I would have liked to keep buried, “And you never did, hon. But it’s been years and you’re clearly still enamoured with him, and I feel like I’m entitled to a little bit of an explanation.” She takes a seat on the cold porcelain next to me, a half-smile decorates her face.

“Okay- you’re right and I’m sorry for not telling you before. I just couldn’t- I didn’t want to make it real. You know? Because if I admitted that he’s on my mind constantly and that he’s the only person I’ve really, truly wanted for fucking years, and that he makes me feel seen and heard and cared for in a way I never thought was possible- then there was a possibility of all that going away.” An exhale escapes me, and I look away from Nat- who seems less flabbergasted at this admission than I’d expect.

She places a supportive hand on my shoulder, “Baby- you know that man loves you, right? You’re his best friend, he’d never let you go like tha-”

“I know, I know.” I interject. “He’s my best friend too- but if it ever came up that I wanted more than what we had right now and he didn’t want that, then everything would fall apart. And you know that, Nat. Everything is perfect the way it is. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize it for anything, not even for my own feelings.” It’s a lie, deep down I know there will always be a part of me yearning, wanting, needing something just out of reach.

 Perhaps it is a sacrifice I’d be willing to make. I could be the slaughtered lamb on a pyre, if it meant Bucky would be happy, if it meant he could get love and support and care from me and everyone around him, without me fucking everything up.

We’ve all been together since freshman year, some of us before that. We’re a family. For me to toss it aside in favor of this childish crush, it would be selfish. It would be building your home and setting it on fire, pushing a boulder up a hill just to push it down the same way, it would be Icarus flying into the sun and dying a horrible, fiery death.

“Hon, I love you but you’re really fuckin’ stupid sometimes.” Nat shakes her head with a small laugh.

“Stop it, Nat. I mean it. He’s never said anything about that- us, you know in that way- and… And he was dating that girl a couple months ago- what was her name? Jo-Ann?” I retort quickly, attempting to repress the feelings that arise from her steadfast argument.

“And do you remember when that ended? Less than two days after you and that asshole you were seeing broke up.” She bumps her shoulder against mine to drive her point forward. My eyebrows knit together at that, she’s not wrong. Technically.

“We all knew that was never going to last. She was so mean and self-involved. I mean- I know I can also be those things… and there’s nothing wrong with being a little bitchy and vain but at least when I do it, it’s classy and everyone loves it.” I jest in an attempt to shift her focus away from Bucky and I, but to no avail.

“Come on, hon. We all know why it didn’t work out. The real reason why.”

“Oh yeah, Nat?” I tilt my head to the side curiously. Music bleeds through the vacant space under the door and I can hear Sam singing along to the song, loudly and off key. It makes me smile. “And what is the real reason?”

“Because she wasn’t you.” She lays it out plainly. Her shoulders shrug in an almost exaggerated display of nonchalance.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Natasha. There- there’s no way.” My voice comes out a bit more strained than anticipated and I stand up from my seat on the bathtub.

“Fine, since you clearly don’t want to listen to reason... I’ll drop it for now, but you’ve got to understand that I meant everything I said. We can all see how head over heels he is for you, baby. You just- maybe you should talk to him about it.” She follows my lead in standing up- there’s an air of finality in her voice and I know our conversation is over.

I take the quick reprieve as Nat leaves the restroom to collect my thoughts. If the alcohol in my system didn’t make the room sway slightly, the revelations that Nat unleashed on me certainly did. I rest my hands on either side of the cool, white basin and look at myself in the mirror that stands proudly on the wall. Good god, pull yourself together. An abrupt knock on the door interrupts my much-needed mirror reflection time. “Occupied!” I yell out in the general direction of the door. For fucks sake, I can’t even get a moment of silence to think.

“Sweetheart? You alright in there?” Bucky’s voice sifts through the door and caresses my ears. His tone so soft, so full of warmth and concern- it makes my heart clench in my chest.

“Yeah, just give me a second.” I smooth down my shirt that had crumpled and gathered in the worst possible way as Natasha berated me about my lack of perception and emotional intelligence while we balanced on the edge of the bathtub.

“Can I come in?” He asks, almost tentatively- or at least as tentative as James Buchanan Barnes could sound. I quickly move to unlock the door and I let him in. His hair is slightly damp from what I assume could only be vigorous beer pong playing or dancing drunkenly to the music. Either way, I’m thankful for it. It's hot.

There’s a slight dusting of red along his cheeks, it is amplified as he gives me a lazy smile. “You alright, Birdie? Do I need to be concerned as to why you’re hiding out in the bathroom when you could be dancing or singing or losing to me at beer pong?”

“In your fuckin’ dreams, Jamie. Do I have to remind you about Thor’s Halloween beer pong tournament?” I raise my eyebrows in challenge and step closer to him, my arms folded across my chest.

Bucky lets out an exaggerated scoff, “That was beginner’s luck on your side. Had to be, sweetheart.” He follows suit and takes a small step toward me.

“Beginner’s luck? Three games in a row? I don’t think so, pretty boy.”

He smiles at me, his eyes searching my face. “Pretty boy, huh? That’s new.”

“Don’t change the subject, Barnes. I could beat you blindfolded, with one hand tied behind my back.” Smugness drips off my words and Bucky’s gaze darkens.

“You want to bet, little bird?” He towers over me now, arms on either side of the basin, confining me between him and the cold tile.

“Sure, why not? There’s no way you’d win anyways.” A deceptively sweet smile is plastered on my face in a challenge to him. My heart thumps loudly in my chest. I feel the blood rushing to my ears and butterflies erupt in my stomach. He’s so beautiful, it’s nearly impossible to stop myself from thinking about how much I’d like him to grab my face and kiss me.  

“State your terms, sweetheart.” He backs up and folds his arms over each other across his chest.

“One round, first one to no cups wins. We can have one redemption shot each. And when I win… Hmm…” I tap my finger against my lips in contemplation for a moment, “When I win, you have to let me drive your car.”

His eyes widen slightly, and his lips move to form a small ‘o’ shape. “Sweetheart, you- you can’t possibly be serious. I don’t even let Steve drive my car.”

“I’m deadly serious. I’ve had my eye on it for a while now, to be quite honest. I would love to drive her down to the coast… Put the top down, play some trashy pop music on the speakers…” I taunt, my voice low and melodic.

“I…” He starts, but I cut him off before he can argue.

“Unless you’re chicken, that is. You scared, Jamie? Shaking in your boots over your inevitable, devastating loss?”

“No- I mean-” He takes a breath in and lifts his hands in surrender, “Fine. Fine. If you win, you can drive the car down to the beachfront. But I’m ridin’ shotgun.”

“I expected nothing less. It’ll be fun- we’ll make a day of it.” I say with a smile, my eyes light up at that prospect.

“You don’t want to know what I get if I win?” He pivots.

“Nope. Don’t need to. Because it’ll never happen. Come on, let’s play.” I tilt my head in the direction of the door and smirk at him with as much cheek as I could muster.

Bucky grabs my hand, returning the smile. He stops for a moment and stares at me, that same indecipherable look in his eyes from earlier. Our fingers are interlaced, one continuous string moves in between him and I.

It felt as if I’d be able to hear a pin drop, despite the hustle and bustle of the party raging on outside. I move to grab the door handle and exit the restroom when I feel him pull me back towards him. He grips my hand and pulls me flush against his chest.

“Bucky, what are you d-”

“You- I-” He clenches his jaw and exhales sharply. “I just- I wanted to tell you that you look beautiful tonight. Your- uh- your outfit looks good on you.”

“You mean your shirt? You mean to tell me that your most beloved article of clothing looks good universally?” I laugh out nervously, not wanting to mention the proximity.

“No- just on you. It looks- you look fuckin’ incredible, sweetheart.” He flashes me a lopsided smile and gives my shoulders a squeeze. “You can keep it. If you want.”

“You don’t need it? I thought this was your secret weapon that you used to bend all of mankind to your devilishly handsome will?”

“I could do that with or without the shirt, believe me.” He drawls out, the cocky bastard. His smile falters the tiniest bit, unease flashes across his features. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He clenches his jaw one final time and finds my hand again.

“Let's go.” Bucky leads me out of the bathroom to the outskirts  of the party. The beer pong table is left uninhabited, red solo cups stacked messily from rounds passed.

Bucky quickly sets up the cups and I fetch the most tolerable beer I can find and start filling the cups in preparation of the battle ahead. I roll my neck and crack my knuckles before we begin- Bucky rolls his eyes at me with a laugh. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“The real question, James, is… are you ready?”

“Just play, smartass.” A cheeky smile appears on his face.

Something is wrong. Dear God, something is horrifyingly and incredibly wrong. Bucky is winning at beer pong. Never, in the history of us, had he even come close to beating me- except for tonight.

“What the fuck, Barnes? Have you been getting private beer pong lessons just for this?” I shoot and miss again. Third time in a row. I haven’t even hit the rim in the past few turns.

Could it be because Thor got too tipsy and spilled his drink all over Bucky’s little conservative long sleeve sweater and he had to go and change into one of those ridiculously stupid, sexy, (did I mention stupid? And also so, so very sexy) wife pleaser vests. His muscles are on full display- arms toned and chest rippling. Dear God. The alcohol buzzing around my system is screaming at me to bite his bicep- surely it wouldn’t be that weird, right? Just a little nibble...

No. What the fuck is wrong with me? I need to get a fucking grip. Perhaps a grip on those sculpted pecs while- No. Not doing that now.

Looking like the cat that ate the canary, Bucky wears the smuggest, filthiest grin on his face. “Oh, sweetheart…” He saunters over to my side of the table and picks up my last red solo cup- there is a small, orange ping pong ball floating tauntingly in the cool brown liquid. He fishes it out with his fingers it and sets it down on the table.

“Drink up.”

I flash him a glare, my eyes narrow as he brings the cup up to my lips. His eyes are trained on me as I gulp down the last of my drink.

 “Good. Now let’s discuss my prize.” He removes the cup and wipes away a stray droplet of beer that escaped out the corner of my mouth, with his thumb. Without stopping, he brings that same digit to his lips and licks it. I feel frozen, dumbstruck, and I’m quite sure I look it. My jaw hangs open slightly as I watch him. I gulp, suddenly very thirsty.

“Cocky, weren’t you? Sweetheart?” he smirks and pinches my chin lightly with his pointer finger and his thumb. He gives me a light squeeze and retreats. The touch sends a shiver down my spine, goosebumps erupt down my arms and the delicious burn of desire settles in my stomach.

“Shut up, Barnes. I don’t know which devil you gave your soul to for skills like that, but I have got to say… that seems like a pretty good deal. You're alright." I admit defeat, my shoulders rise and I hold my hands up in surrender. I smile at him cheekily as he approaches. His steps are slow, deliberate. Wrapped in confidence and assuredness.

“So, Jamie. Your prize- what’ll it be?” I ask, after a small beat of silence.

We look at each other for a moment, just a single moment. Although, it doesn't feel that way. Lifetimes could have passed us by, empires could have risen and fallen- and I would still be lost in his eyes. The deep azure pierces my very soul. He blinks and clears his throat, looking to the floor almost embarrassedly.

"Buck? You alright?" I enquire, moving closer to him.

He chuckles and nods his head slowly.

“You know my cousin, Emma? She’s uh- she’s gettin’ married next Saturday and... And I need a date.” Earnest fills his words, and an irresistible, infuriatingly beautiful smile appears on his face.

I have to resist the urge to pinch myself, because this could only be a really fucked up, steamy dream. I’m silent for a beat, trying to comprehend exactly what he said and the implications behind that.

“I mean, sweetheart, only if you want to. If you- uh- like if you’re not into that, I can just go solo.” His voice holds a slight tremble at the end of his sentence. Holy shit- is he nervous?

“No, no! I am- I’d be into that. We can definitely go together.” I reassure him. My heart pounds against my ribcage, my cheeks heat and a bright smile finds its way onto my face.

“It’d just be better for my ma to think I’m seein’ someone. I know she’s gonna try pair me up with her neighbour’s daughter. Again.” His hands are dug deeply in his pockets, his Adams apple bobs as he swallows.

Realisation flashes on my face. Friends. He wants to go as friends who are pretending to be dating. Right, of course.

“Yeah, for sure. Uh- I’ve got you covered, Jamie.” My smile falters, only for a moment. His eyebrows scrunch together, concern flashing across his features. I give him a half-hearted smile.

“Alright, thanks Birdie. You’re a lifesaver.” He removes his hands from his pockets and claps them together. “You want another drink? I can make you somethin’ quick.”

“Sure, yeah. Do you still have that margarita mix? It was yummy.” I suggest, clumsily. I need to find my footing after that absolute emotional rollercoaster, so he will just have to excuse my unbecoming behavior.

People start filtering out one by one and soon, the disco lights are turned off and the soft, warm glow of the lamps fill the living room. I find myself leaning against Bucky on the worn leather couch, exhaustion weighs heavily on me, and I find my eyes flitting shut for a few moments at a time.

“Birdie? You wanna go to bed?” Bucky coos.

I grumble in response, not fully committed to giving him a proper answer.

He chuckles, it’s rich and dark and perfect. “You can take the guest bedroom if you want… Or do you want to sleep here, sweetheart?”

“Bed.” I manage to mumble, with half lidded eyes and a stifled yawn.

“Do you need me to walk you there? You good to do that, baby? Or should I carry you?” His voice is soft, full of compassion. Even drunk and exhausted, it makes my heart swell. I can’t help but smile- it’s lazy and probably not my most picture-perfect smile, but it’s there now.

“Just fucking carry me. I know you want to- you know I want you to.”

He laughs out and hops up to scoop me up from my position on the couch. His strong arms come up under me and Bucky carries me to the guest bedroom, he doesn’t even break a sweat. You’d swear he was a goddamn superhero or something.

Bucky lays me down gingerly and I shift to get comfortable as I feel the softness of the mattress beneath me. “Thank you, sweet Jamie. My sweet… sweet Jamie.” My eyes flutter shut and I nestle into the pillow.

“G’night, Birdie. Sweet dreams.”  He leans down and presses a chaste kiss to my forehead. If I'd been more cognizant, perhaps I would've seen the way he smiled down at me from the side of the bed, eyes soft and full of care. Maybe I would have noticed his hesitance to leave, or the way he brought his fist up to his chest and rubbed it soothingly. Perhaps I would've picked up on the fact that his heart burned inside his chest for me, the same way mine did for him.

Hello everyone! This is the first part of my first ever series, I really hope you like it!

Please let me know what you all thought of it!

xoxo, Viv

[dailycass-cain]

so this is my first time reading Batgirl (TYSM for the guide!) and I'm pretty new to comics in general. I've made it to #41 so far, and I can't help but notice the huge decline in writing from #38 onwards with the change of writers. Maybe it's just exacerbated by how good the previous issues were; but it really feels like Cass drastically went from a rare female character that is actually written with the same respect and depth as the male characters to being turned into a "girl superhero" with boy troubles who gets forced into bikinis and love triangles. Since you seem to know a lot about what was going on behind the scenes at the time, did something happen? I know there's misogynistic/racist men in the industry who hated Cass so I was wondering if that was already brewing back then during her 2000s run

I think when it came post-Puckett era, Dylan Horrocks was faced with a choice: ape off Puckett or try something different with the character.

I'll be honest, the early Horrocks' stuff you're in hasn't aged well. The ideas are interesting, of exploring sexuality and Cass realizing she can "see" what men think of her, and I think the utter realization of Babs making a mistake is good. It's just the overall execution is more of a miss.

The thing is, #41 gives us an excellent in-character reason for her choices. It's just this is all balanced with Bruce being pretty awful to Cass during this period (because this is all in a lead-up to Horrocks "big" story for #50).

Horrocks run can best be summed as: starts "meh" has interesting ideas, but fails to fully execute them well. There are some standoff amazing moments in the comics (I think the Doll Man issue is quite underrated).

Though, you're right. This is the era when Dan DiDio began to rise to power within the DC Comics Company, and it shows during this particular run.

So during this "run" we had A LOT of things happen outside the comic.

#1 Batman: Hush going on, and that story is particularly infamous for neglecting Cass due to story writer Jeph Loeb's distaste cause she wasn't Barbara Gordon (artist Jim Lee, who now currently runs DC too had this idea but since 2020 has softened this stance and realizes the mistake made).

Add this with DiDio's bias toward the Bronze Age "iconic" characters (Barry, Hal, and Babs) you have this growing problem.

#2 Cass DID get to be involved in another comic. The Justice League: Elite maxi-series. Though she didn't show up in THE Batman story, Cass was showing up in two other series at this time. One, well is in my "infamous" Cass reading guide (Batman: City of Light), and JL: Elite.

The later series did a nice job with the "twist" that Cass was on the team and as an agent of Batman spying on them. It is an actually interesting and good story.

#3 This is the era the "editorial edicts" started to come in. So a rather infamous thing during DiDio's reign was editorial edicts that would force changes in comics (leading to some outrageous OOC moments). This happened TWICE in Horrocks' Batgirl run.

At a certain point, Horrocks is told via top brass that he's losing Babs as a supporting cast member and has to write her off the comic. So he has to write a Babs/Cass go their separate ways due to well you'll see.

The other is in regards to Stephanie Brown who'll be back in the comic past #50 (she left the series in #38). What Horrocks didn't know until a Bat summit around this time (where all the Batman book creatives discussed where to take the books in the coming months) is that Stephanie's days were numbered.

She was coming back (and as Robin), but they were killing off the character. Horrocks and Nightwing writer Devin Grayson HATED the idea and objected to it.

Sadly, they were outvoted and well whatever else occurred in those meetings (or after) resulted in Horrocks quitting the Batgirl series and DC Comics itself by #57 (this is why Horrocks' run on the book just ends abruptly with no real end). Horrocks is still currently just enjoying the life of writing and doing Indie comics.

Interestingly, whatever Horrocks said or did it's interesting to note his is the only run never collected fully by DC Comics. Sadly, the only Batgirl issues that were EVER put in a trade were the stuff that made him walk (Batman: War Games, the event that killed Stephanie Brown). That was until the mid-2010s when DC released a HC Batgirl Anniversary trade that also included stories of Bette Kane, Steph, and Cass as Batgirl. #45 (aka Cass wearing Babs' Batgirl costume) is in the trade collection.

Ironically, this bad management editorial would also eventually affect Kelley Puckett (who returns to DC with Supergirl Vol. 5 #23-29, 31-32) around 2008 to 2009 but then ALSO decided to leave DC and comics altogether.

Not those two, but also the writer who'd replaced Horrocks, Andersen Gabrych (who was one of the minds behind War Games). However, I honestly do love Gabrych's run on Batgirl more than Horrocks. It's just the edicts and the rushing toward the end of his run kind of sours it.

I hope all this information is helpful.

[milkboydotnet]

Marcos Jr. sells out PH sovereignty for US war preparations vs China

NDF-International | National Democratic Front of the Philippines

April 10, 2024

Marcos Jr.’s trip to the United States for a trilateral summit with US President Joe Biden and Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida is an utter and complete sell-out of Philippine sovereignty to US war designs in Asia. The so-called “trilateral summit” is set to discuss “maritime security cooperation” between the three countries.

Marcos Jr. is willingly offering the Philippine archipelago to serve as a ‘theater of war’ by allowing the US to position its military arsenal on land, sea, and air. The Philippines is a crucial piece in the “US Island Chain strategy” to contain China. The Philippines’ strategic location allows the US to constrict regional waterways and position readily deployable military air power in close proximity to China. In order to achieve its objectives, the US is escalating war preparations in the region by encouraging Japan and other imperialist allies to join the geopolitical chess game.

In the said trilateral meeting, Marcos Jr. seeks to further increase US military footprint in Philippine soil while talks are underway with Japan for a reciprocal access agreement that will allow Japanese military presence in the country. In fact, preparations are already ongoing for the biggest Balikatan Exercises in history which is expected to draw at least 16,000 troops to participate. The Balikatan war games this year aims to test the so-called ‘Comprehensive Archipelagic Defense Concept (CDAC)’ patterned after US imperialist war plans in the region. These actions form part of the US strategy to provoke China into “firing the first shot” demonstrating the US government’s bloodthirst.

On the other hand, Marcos Jr.’s actions prove his outright subservience to US imperialist war preparations and his readiness to drag the Filipino people in the middle of a brewing inter-imperialist conflict. Marcos Jr. must be held accountable for his reprehensible sell-out of Philippine sovereignty and his blatant disregard for the lives of the Filipino masses. More importantly, the Biden administration must be denounced for its continued exportation of wars of aggression from Ukraine to Palestine and now using the Philippines as a pawn in its attempt to stifle China’s growing influence.

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Eskel Kinktober Day 1: Body Worship

The solid wood door creaked highly at the hinges as Eskel stepped into the tavern. The warm glow of the lanterns, the smell of the mead you brewed in the back, the way the floor swayed ever so slightly toward the bar– were all well known to Eskel as he entered. This was not the first time, not even the one hundred and first time he had entered your bar, and so long as you would have him he would keep returning. However what was unknown to Eskel was the extreme noise that hit him like a wall as he walked in. 

The town was not very big, even if every drunkard and bachelor within twenty miles were at your door, he didn’t think it would be this packed. Eskel made good use of his acrobatic skills as he weaved between people. His heightened senses quickly became a curse as the smell and sounds became more and more overwhelming as he got deeper into the building. Finally after what felt like an hour of navigation– but what couldn’t have been more than a few minutes- he reached the entrance to the back. 

The smell of stew and cooking vegetables was a welcome reprieve as Eskel watched your cook Mandi juggle multiple plates and pots with the grace of a dancer. What grabbed his attention was the sounds of struggling as you came up the stairs from the cellar navigating a barrel. As you reached the summit he grabbed the barrel from you, setting it to the side so he could properly see you. 

“Eskel” you said surprised. Your hair was flying out in little disobedient frays, the sweat on your skin and labored breathing told of your exertion with the stairs and stains marred your normally crisp top. “I thought you’d be gone for at least another week?” You looked up at the witcher as you were slowly but surely catching your breath. 

“Alderman was wrong about the type of monster” He said flatly before gesturing to the door that led to the veritable mob of people in the main room. “So what’s with the..”

“Ugh” Your normally composed and pleasant face couldn’t help but scrunch. “Apparntly some traveling caravan decided it was our town they wanted to torture by staying the night.” Just as you finished speaking a loud crash could be heard from the main room, causing the pair of you to cringe. 

“Here” You reached into the pouch tied to your skirts and handed him the key to your suite upstairs. “I think you know where everything is” Eskel simply nodded his head as he took the back staircase to your quarters. 

It was well into the early morning before he heard the commotion quite below him and it was even further into the night when he finally heard your exhausted footsteps make their way up to the room. Eskel dipped a hand into the bath water he had drawn as he heard you approach. He had occupied himself while you were downstairs by sorting through his packs. After that was organized and you still weren't finished he had set about getting water and other items for a bath. 

He was drying his hand as the creak of the door gave away you position. You stood, leaning against the doorframe, one eye shut as you let out a sigh. The frays from earlier were now stuck to your forehead with sweat. Fatigue crept into every fiber of your being. 

“I’m sorry about that Esk, if I had known you’d be back I would hav-” 

“Hey now none of that” Eskel had hastily walked over to you, quieting your apologetics and taking your hands in his, leading you further into your chambers. As you walked you noticed the slight steam coming from the tub by the fireplace.

“Thank you my love, why don’t you head to bed and I’ll join you shortly” You suggested, trying to get your witcher to let you go and go get some rest himself. For a split second it seemed your plea may have worked, as Eskel’s hand did drop your own, however they then took up a post on your back, nimble fingers starting to unlace fabric. 

“How about instead of sleeping you let me pamper you some hmmm?” Eskel looked down on you with warm eyes and a playful smirk on his lips. 

“Honey don’t feel obligated just because it was busy downstairs, I can handle it, I’m a-.” Eskel stopped your rebuttal as his hands rested on either side of your face,his thumb caressing your bottom lip. 

“Let me do this because I want to then.” With his grasp on your face you had no choice but to sit directly in his gaze. His eyes full of adoration, a desire and passion to see your stresses melt away burning in them. You closed your eyes and relented, dramatically flopping your head into his shoulder, using him to balance you. Eskel only gave out a chuckle as he reached around once more to rid you of clothing. 

Once you were bare before him sturdy arms reached under your knees and picked you up, cradling yourself against his chest as he led you to the tub. Slowly lowering you into the water, your skin twitched as it made contact, a sigh leaving your body. As you settled in, Eskel was as gentle as possible, letting your hair down. His hands then began rubbing small circles into the hard as stone flesh of your neck. The small rhythmic movements, combined with the heat of the water slowly easing your tension. One of his hands left its post at your neck, coming back to start lathering soap into your hair. Fingers gliding and stretching along your scalp. 

Quick work was made of rinsing. He was then massaging soap into you body, feathery touches skimmed over your breasts, the whisper of contact mixed with the rough work worn hands of the witcher caused you to jolt at the sensation. 

“Seems I've found something here.” Eskel was right behind your whispering into your ear with his arms around you. He knew damn well what he was doing, having  bedded you enough times at this point to have you quivering in seconds. Right now you were of no mind to even try to fight him on it. The rough pads of his fingers grazed over your nipples, circling ever so slowly around them. You leaned you head into his shoulder puffs of air meeting his neck.

“Esk..” he hummed at your needy tone, giving the buds much sturdier touches, rolling them with his fingers under the water. Your whimpers let out so close to his ears, while your legs jolted slightly causing waves to splash over the sides of the basin. 

“Why don’t I get you out before you make a mess.” Much to your dismay Eskel removed his hands from the water, grabbing a towel to dry you off. Once suitably dry he picked you up once more, brining you over to the bed. 

Eskel set you down on your back with the reverence of a monk and the gentleness of a newborn. He lifted himself next to you onto the bed, hands caressing calves. A singular finger slid down the arch of your leg, sitting at the knee. Eskel’s mouth followed, devotion in his lips as he stared down at you, kissing the inside of your knee. He palmed your thighs, moving them to spread. 

He looked down at you, mouth reluctant to leave skin. “If this were the last night of my life, I’d die a happy man.” He then resumed kissing your knee, moving his mouth down further further till he met the apex of your thighs. Your hands sat twitching in anticipation at your sides. A dull fatigue still sat over everything, your vision almost having a film on it. However your senses were alright. The path Eskel had taken to your cunt was burning, the skin tingling and buzzing like skin warming from the cold of winter. 

The air was still for several moments, and your eyes were half lidded when you felt your seam being split open by plush lips. His tongue darted out to taste you. Your moans and gasps filled the quiet night as he only dove deeper. Tongue lapping at your entrance and clit, while his hands gently massaged your thighs while he held them open. As he continued on your lost yourself in a haze of pleasure, so much so that when one of his hands left its post you didn’t notice till it was prodding at your entrance. His tongue and lips now focused on your bud while his fingers sought out your pleasure elsewhere. 

Eskel knew he had found the spot he was searching for when the noises you emanated suddenly rose in pitch and the leg he was not holding gave a jolt. You swore you could feel him smiling as he picked up his pace, fingers assaulting that spot as he sucked hard on your clit. You could feel that coil in your core tightening, hips now canting up to meet the thrusts of his hand. One of your hands let go of it’s grasp on your sheets to cover your mouth as you cried out. Moans radiating in the air as your climax swept over you. 

Eskel rose up on his elbows, his smile devious as he licked his teeth. You lifted your arms to cover your face. Elbows out protecting you from further turning into goo at the sight of the scarred man. You could hear him chuckle as he got off the bed, moving toward the bath to grab a cloth. By the time he had turned back he noticed your breathing had evened out. Pulling back your arms to reveal your very satisfied and very asleep face.

[sailorstar9]

So, this is my Part Two of this: https://www.tumblr.com/sailorstar9/766356285336764416/as-fate-has-it A/N: Implied off-screen meeting between Neuvillette/F/N. Warning: Dialogue taken from the 'Hustle and Bustle' Event during this year's Lantern Rite Event

Five thousand and five hundred years later, at the Rite of Descension...

“The hour is upon us..” Ningguang stepped up. Summoning her Geo crystals, she sent them into the large censor in the middle of the offering table. A continuous beam of Geo energy shot up into the skies, summoning Rex Lapis' Exuvia from a tornado of clouds.

Suddenly, said Geo dragon fell down from the skies, slumped over the offering table.

“Rex Lapis has been killed!” Ningguang barked out orders. “Seal the exits!”

“Quite a bit of dramatics, aren't you Morax?”F/N teleported beside Zhongli who was viewing the spectacle from Mt. Tianheng. “The others' reactions would be... rather interesting. Tea?” she offered, pouring out Chenyu Brew from an enchanted tea pot.

“You do not seem surprised.” Zhongli took the offered tea cup.

“You are not one to do something like this with no reason.” F/N stated matter-of-factly.

“The time of the Adepti is ending, and the time of mankind is slowly dawning.,” Zhongli reminisced.

“Is this the reason for your decision?” F/N questioned.

“Perhaps.” Zhongli answered.

“Well then, I suppose I should pay Streetward Ramble a visit since I'm here.” F/N dusted herself off. Turning into her phoenix form, she flew off.

“is this the result you desired, Rex Lapis?” F/N asked the 'retired' Geo Archon.

“I decided that a test was needed in order to determine if us, the Adepti, is ready to leave the leadership of Liyue to its people.” Zhongli explained. “I am very satisfied with the end result. The Gnosis I had kept for so many years suddenly seemed to have lost its meaning.”

“Now, this makes me wonder what the Tsaritsa's plan entails.” F/N pondered.

In Qiaoying Village after the main Lantern Rite festive...

Shortly after arriving in Qiaoying Village, the Traveller heard a familiar yet distinct voice yelling from the slopes of tea plants.

“What are they doing here!?” Paimon exclaimed, spotting Navia and Clorinde. “Navia! Clorinde!”

“Well if it isn't my dear partners!” Navia turned. “Are you guys also here to catch the festivities? Oh, and that reminds me, Happy Lantern Rite!”

“Happy Lantern Rite.” Clorinde nodded.

“Happy Lantern Rite to you too!” Paimon responded. “ Wait, if you're here for Lantern Rite, then what are you doing on top of this deserted mountain?”

“That's just what mountain climbers do, right?” Navia asked. “After all the hard work it takes to make it to the top, as you stand on the summit looking out at the vast scenery, it's not easy to resist the urge to release those emotions. Anyway, why don't you two give it a try? Shout anything you want. It's a real stress reliever!”

“As long as Paimon has clothes on her back and food in her belly, Paimon doesn't think there's any stress that needs relieving.” Paimon stammered.

“No need to be shy!” Navia encouraged. “Even Furina was shouting from the top of this mountain earlier.”

“Furina's also here in Qiaoying Village?” Paimon was surprised. “Seems like you caught her in the middle of some stress relief as well.”

“Was she alone?” the Traveller inquired.

“I think so?” Navia gave Clorinde a look. “We ran into Neuvillette on the way here as well, but he was already on his way back and he had a lady in red with him, so they probably weren't together.”

“Neuvillette was here too?” Paimon gaped. “What was he doing here? It couldn't have been for vacation.”

“I think it just might have been, actually.” Navia related. “But apparently, he only stayed for half a day before heading back. He's a very busy man. Didn't Charlotte publish an article on the Liyue tea industry recently? Maybe he was inspired to come buy some tea after reading that article. You know, just like you were!”

“My situation is completely different.” Clorinde defended. “I'm here because I was asked to accompany you. The tea purchase is simply an added bonus of this location; I lost a bet with Wriothesley, and now I have to buy him something.”

“That reminds me.” Navia recalled. “You guys said you only came up here because you heard my voice, right? I hope it didn't put you out — you must have other plans for the day?”

“Paimon's not seeing things, is she?” Paimon instantly noticed the trio. “Is that Furina standing between Zhongli and Hu Tao? Good afternoon, Hu Tao, Zhongli, and Furina!!” she called out.

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!” Hu Tao grinned. “Seems like our luck just keeps on growing!”

“That we were able to meet you both without prior arrangement must mean that this is quite the serendipitous meeting indeed.” Zhongli agreed.

“So both of you are acquainted with Traveller and Paimon then.” Furina was surprised. “ I must admit, I'm a bit surprised to see you here, Traveller. But seeing as you're a hero who's been all over Teyvat, it makes sense that you would be well-travelled and well-connected. Since we have found ourselves in each other's company within this fertile land, allow me to take this opportunity to wish you a happy Lantern Rite.”

“Happy Lantern Rite!” the Traveller responded.

“It appears you have been to Fontaine then.” Zhongli noted. “Given your proclivity to spread good deeds wherever you go, it's no surprise that you would make the acquaintance of a celebrity as illustrious and celebrated as Miss Furina.”

“That's quite high praise.” Furina blushed. “Although I've built up a certain following within Fontaine, it is no reflection of strength or wisdom. I stand before you right now as nothing more than an ordinary traveller in search of beautiful scenery and creative inspiration.”

“Aiya, you're no common tourist.” Hu Tao chided. “I simply won't have you talk about yourself that way. You may not have heard, friends, but Miss Furina is now one of my esteemed clients!”

“Did, uh, something... happen recently, Furina?” Paimon asked worriedly.

“What do you mean?” Furina was puzzled.

“You know, with you enlisting the services of Wangsheng Funeral Parlour and all...” Paimon prompted.

“Miss Hu Tao is simply helping prepare some props for my film.” Furina explained. “Not too long ago, I read a collection of horror stories from Liyue. The content was spectacular. Now that Fontaine's biggest star has returned to the stage, I figured it's about time the industry enjoyed a breath of fresh air!”

“Paimon sees!” Paimon nodded. “That makes a lot of sense. So did you come to Liyue just to enlist the services of Wangsheng Funeral Parlour?”

“Not exactly...” Furina admitted. “My original plan was to just relax and enjoy the sights. But then I ran into Miss Hu Tao and Mr. Zhongli, and well, you know the rest. I suppose it was meant to be.”

“It was a fated meeting indeed.” Zhongli agreed.

“Zhongli sure loves his lofty turns of phrase.” Hu Tao remarked. “But if you ask me, it's all thanks to that man who stopped to ask for directions.”

“Who was it?” Paimon was intrigued.

“It's someone you know.” Furina sang. “Wanna take a guess?”

“It was Neuvillette, wasn't it?” the Traveller wasted no time in answering, before recounting their meeting with Navia and Clorinde.

“Paimon never thought Neuvillette would be the type to get lost.” Paimon noted.

“I'm sure he didn't get lost.” Furina assured. “Even I was able to find my way to this place without any trouble. He was already getting ready to leave by the time I arrived. He just wanted to ask someone about the quickest way to get back to Fontaine.”

“Speaking of your friend,” Hu Tao started. “He doesn't get out much, does he?”

“No, he doesn't.” the Traveller confirmed.

“No wonder!” Hu Tao nodded. “He was stiff as a board and way too polite... I would have never guess he was here on vacation if you hadn't told me.”

“All in all, he was only here for half a day.” Furina related. “I'm pretty sure he's the only one who would consider that to be a vacation.”

“This gentleman you speak of must keep a demanding schedule.” Zhongli noted.

“I'm sure he does.” Hu Tao mused. “You didn't see him, but he was dressed like he was about to attend some important meeting. It wasn't anything like what someone would wear on vacation.”

“Is that so...” Zhongli pondered.

“You didn't see him, Zhongli?” Paimon was puzzled.

“Unfortunately, no.” Zhongli responded. “At the time, it appeared as if Director Hu and Miss Furina were having quite the productive conversation. I know matters of business can take much discussion, so I decided to fetch some tea for them.”

“ What a shame.” Hu Tao tsked. “That gentleman seemed like a sophisticated sort of guy. I actually think you two would have hit it off!”

“Is that so?” Zhongli cast his superior a sceptical look.

“That reminds me.” Furina recalled. “If you get the chance, you should try and talk Neuvillette into loosening up a bit. Just tell him the Palais Mermonia isn't going to fall apart if he disappears for a few days. He shouldn't keep himself cooped up all the time. If he's really that much of a stickler for protocol, he can fill out a leave of absence request. He'd have to approve it himself since he handles that sort of thing now, but you know what I mean.”

After biding everyone farewell...

The Traveller found Neuvillette at the Erinnyes entrance to the Fortress of Meropide.

“It's you.”the Hydro Dragon Sovereign spotted his visitors. “It has been some time since our last meeting. Few people frequent this location. Since I was able to conclude my work early for the day, I thought I might take a walk and avail myself of this area's peace and quiet.”

“You call this early...?” Paimon exclaimed. “Do you always work this late, Neuvillette?”

“Strictly speaking, that depends on the agenda for the day.” Neuvillette reasoned. “ I am hardly bereft of time, however, so working late is of little consequence to me.”

“If you have so much time on your hands, then why did you only go to Qiaoying Village for half a day?” Paimon was confused.

“First, I should clarify that I was referring to my lifespan rather than the time at my disposal on any given day.” Neuvillette explained. “Second, I was unaware you possessed knowledge of my trip to Qiaoying Village. I see.” he nodded after the Traveller gave him a brief rundown. “Thank you for informing me.” he then related his meeting with Wriothesley.

“So that's what you were doing in Qiaoying Village!” Paimon realized.

“Indeed.” Neuvillette nodded. “Of course, while I was there, I also took the opportunity to taste the local spring water. The aftertaste is much purer than what I have delivered to me in Fontaine. It stands to reason that the long-distance transport has a tendency to imbue the water with extraneous emotion.I f you want to experience the true flavour, you simply have to go the source. Perhaps I should organize some time off to do the same elsewhere.”

“You know you don't have to justify a vacation, right?” Paimon pointed out. “You can just take one. After all, you're hardly 'bereft of time'. You can do whatever you want.”

“You're quite right.” Neuvillette conceded. “I suppose I suffer not from a lack of opportunity but rather a lack of inspiration. However, after reading a few articles about Liyue's holiday traditions, the idea popped into my head and made itself quite at home. Seeing as I was free of responsibilities for the morning, I decided to depart at once.”

“ And how was it?” the Traveller prompted.

“Refreshing. And rather... intriguing.” Neuvillette admitted. “My spontaneous outing seemed to inspire quite a few other spontaneous decisions as well. Take, for example, my foray into ceramics. At first, soil from the ground is granular and unforgiving, but add the right amount of water, and it becomes soft, moldable, and able to take shape. In the past, I never thought about how quotidian vessels were crafted. But now, I have participated in their very making and met with a very amiable young lady in the process...” he let out a wistful smile. “This is also something I made today.” he recollected himself and took out a blue ladle he crafted.

“That reminds me.” the Traveller then proceeded to convey Furina's request.

“Approve a leave of absence request for myself...” Neuvillette pondered. “That sounds like it could easily lead to a vicious cycle of self-indulgence, something which couldn't be in further violation of protocol. But, I suppose I understand her point. My proclivity to refrain from personal outings does, in part, originate from a sense of responsibility toward my duties. But it is also due to a lack of desire to engage in the human world.” he produced the enchanted red feather his new female acquaintance had gifted him. “But now I see that the human world is indeed full of many interesting places to discover.”

“Is that...” the Traveller breathed in astonishment.

“A feather from the Phoenix Queen herself?” Paimon exclaimed.

“Oh?” Neuvillette raised an eyebrow.

“We never met her.” the Traveller explained. "We only heard of her from Xiao; she's the leader of all the bird Adepti Clans. Mountain Shaper explained bird Adepti feathers are special, especially those imbued with their powers. And for someone like her to give you one of her feathers as a parting gift... you must have made an exceptional impression on her, Neuvillette.”

[auraeseer]

Post . . . when it dies.

[chicagobeerpass]

Chicago Beer Pass: Pillow Soft

Welcome to the Chicago Beer Pass: Your ticket to all the great beer events happening in and around Chicago.

On this episode of Chicago Beer Pass, Brad Chmielewski and Nik White open cans of Eiderdown, a pillowy-soft Hazy IPA from Alarmist Brewing. As the guys knock back this soft hazy boi they talk about trips to Energy City Brewing, Study Shelter, Metropolitan and Nik’s adventure to Navy Pier for CiderCon. The guys also talk about the possibility that the Chicago Guinness location is finally opening just in time for St. Patrick's Day!

Having issues listening to the audio? Try the MP3 (59.4 MB) or subscribe to the podcast on iTunes!

[moonspirit]

I was wondering if you ever thought about how armin and Annie in VBEOW would have their first actual fight? And I’m not talking about the miscommunication they had in the past but an actual heated fight. How long would they fight for, would Annie still sleep in armin’s room or would she go back to her own and now they’re both miserable and alone or would they just sleep with their backs facing eachother. Would they make the other ambassadors uncomfortable with their lovers quarrel? And who would be the first to apologize?

Hi anon!!!

It's funny and also delightful that you ask tbh, because there will be a major, proper "fight" in the winter arc. It may not have been very apparent, but all the ingredients for a fight have been brewing for a while. As for what it's going to be about - the hints are there!

I really liked writing about their miscommunication in the Peace Summit Arc (I remember breaking that one down to the basic ingredients over here), and combined with the circumstances aruani were under and the stress factors weighing in at that time, it explained quite a bit about how these two function during a fight. Annie has a tendency to run when there are things she doesn't want to face, and Armin's immediate thoughts are that he's not reliable enough to prevent her from running in the first place. While Armin tried his level best to talk and communicate with her, he also fucked it up by suppressing his suffering for her sake, which in turn hurt her because Annie believed she wasn't good enough for him to confide in. There were very heavy external forces (ie the success of the Peace Summit and his fever) that, while burdening them to the max, also somehow kept them in check by pushing Annie to step up for Armin when the time came, and forcing communication. If not for these two factors, I believe their misunderstanding would've lasted longer.

Now. That was a prelude to how wrong things can go.

I think that for all of Armin's efforts at getting Annie to "talk" to him about the things that bother her, and how they agreed to "do better" in chapter 24, it won't be that simple. Annie is a character who struggles with communication as a whole. Armin is a character who struggles with deep rooted self hatred and poor self esteem. These will all factor in (among other things) to whatever is about to happen in winter.

As for your other questions, without spoiling anything that's actually about to happen, I'll answer in the context of Aruani in VBEOW, in general:

1. Annie will likely not sleep with Armin. His room is a place of strong comfort to her, and as much as she may yearn for exactly that when they fight, leaving his side to sleep in her own, much more "lonely and empty" room mirrors her habit of "avoidance".

2. How long they would fight for will depend on the severity of the fight itself.

3. The other ambassadors will be distressed ofc. It's not only the tension in the air and Armin's giant cloud of despair and agony floating over his head wherever he goes, but they also genuinely care for Aruani, and seeing them fight is going to be very disheartening.

4. The first to apologise is Armin. Whether or not it's his fault, even if it's mother nature that caused the fight, even if it's nothing either of them can control, he'll apologise*. And Annie will be bothered by this habit of his too.

(* unless... Hehehehehhee)

Thank you for your interest, I deeply appreciate it T___T

[theflashdriver]

A Thesis on the Touch of a Psychic (Silvaze)

Blaze couldn't help but glower at her reflection as her hands failed her for the sixth time this evening. Tonight had snuck up on her like a blissfully forgotten spectre, now resurrected from the recesses of her memory to stir up a panic from within. It was the last night of the year, an evening in which certain expectations were impressed upon the guardian of the Sol Emeralds.

In the great hall beneath the en suite where she now stood, a summit was well on its way to beginning. Despite the music and the dancing she knew to be present, the feline wouldn't dare to call the reception a party. Tonight was a night of formality, dining, speeches, and endless bureaucracy to mark the coming new year. Names would be announced upon arrival, toasts would be raised, and lectures would be given until throats were again in need for more toasts.

Those in attendance were the countless representative diplomats from the surrounding islands, their families, and special guests of interest including heads of shipping firms and other industrial tycoons. Frankly, Blaze knew there was more important work to be done than attending this farce; on the eastern coast a giant squid had been sighted, the cat was already brewing theories that it was some mechanical or otherworldly monstrosity that Eggman Nega had forced into her world. Unfortunately, being royalty carried with it certain expectations- for centuries her family had attended this dinner without fail. For that reason, and no other, she would attend tonight's event as she had those in years prior.

Tonight was an enforced break from reality; a fascinatingly pointless deviation from her true mission of defending her kingdom's isles. These truths, combined with her present predicament, had combined to plunge the princess into a rather foul mood. If tonight went without a yawn attempting to slip beyond her lips she would be more than surprised. The long evening was surely going to leave her dreary eyed, not that she was allowed to show it.

Again, perhaps due to her mental distraction, the feline's grasp did not prove sufficient; her hands found the edge of the sink before her as a vicious frown graced the bathroom mirror. The cat had been attempting to fasten the back of her dress for what felt like hours now; soon Gardon would rap on her bedroom door and enquire what was taking her so long. Certainly the words he'd use would be more proper, but they'd further the cat's frustration all the same.

Instead of a simple zip, whoever designed the frustrating collection of thread and fabric had deemed that a series of lace knots should be used to seal the back of the garb. Whoever had made that choice plainly hadn't ever had to fasten such a dress themselves. They'd purely been fixated on the aesthetics of a slightly exposed back contrasted by bows.

The dress wasn't truly awful, she had selected it in the hopes that it would allow her to battle should conflict arise (be it at the party or somewhere she would have to rush) while maintaining a certain level of decorum. Unfortunately, it appeared she had chosen poorly. The gown was loose flowing, with long sleeves that she'd thought would make her feel less exposed compared to others she'd historically stuffed herself into... but those very boons were only serving to make her fastening effort more difficult. The garb wrapped the majority of her body in a wine red colour, slit only to partially expose her right leg in exchange for bettered mobility. Perhaps she would burn herself free after this evening... no, regardless of her frustration, that would be much too wasteful.

"Silver!" She called through the bathroom door, "Can you come in here?"

The en suite door swung open, revealing the time traveling psychic. Since he'd arrived in her world, the hedgehog was gradually becoming better suited to the more peaceful times he now lived in. He was dressed in a manner she'd be far more comfortable with, a loose button up blue shirt and shorts.

The two of them had spent today in the royal gardens, primarily beneath a gazebo so that she could continue to work even while enjoying the outdoors. He had brought a picnic and a good head to bounce ideas off of. After much persuasion, he had managed to lead her into a spot of impromptu gardening to maintain the grounds. Even if she hadn't been destined for such a royal occasion, the outing would have prompted a shower regardless- but it had been made all the more quick and intense upon realising how late the day had drawn. Meanwhile, she could still see grass stains in his fur...

"I can't seem to fasten this dress," She informed him, "Could you..."

"Of course!" He beamed, helpful as ever.

The cat turned back to her reflection, standing straight and exposing her back to him completely. She'd expected to hear the whir of psychic energy, that the silk threads at her back would simply fasten themselves behind her back. Instead, the familiar sound of footsteps drawing close played in her ears.

In the mirror, she watched as the hedgehog strolled behind her to look quizzically at her exposed spine. Just as she was processing what he was about to do, the feline felt his heavy hands on the small of her back. Almost instinctively, her own grasp found the sink again as she leaned forward.

"This looks easy enough," She caught sight of his smile in the reflection, "I'm going to have to undo some of the knots you've already done, they're not using the right threads."

Fingers grazed deep, she felt her fur raise beneath his touch, "Do what you must."

Her left hand moved to her chest, hoping to keep the garb from slumping free of her shoulders. He was being gentle, but now his touch was slipping into the tight spaces she had previously sealed- his fingertips were grazing along her spine. The scene reflected before her was one that spiked her temperature; Silver had leaned down to match her posture, practically hunching parallel to her frame, looming over! She had to look down; her flushed face reflected in the shining metal of the sink's plug- was there no escape?!

"You were right, this is fiddly... give me a second," She felt one of his hands leave her only to return ungloved.

Blaze's tail bashed against his chest, straightening hard as she felt that bare hand tug the lace of her dress while the other left her back. She felt him catch the interfering appendage so very casually; Blaze was certain that now both his hands were ungloved. In a single, ever so simple, move, he adjusted her tail to coil over his shoulder and stepped even closer! She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, was he-

"So, it seems like it's going to be a long night," Silver's fingers had returned to her back, his fiddling resumed, "Are you going to be okay down there?"

Did he have to talk while he was doing this? Did he know how his breath felt on her ear? Did he really expect her to respond!?

"I'm fine, Silver," She grumbled, "Tonight is more akin to a ritual than it is anything else, a sacrifice of time and endurance of tedium for the greater good. I'll get through it as I have every prior stuffy reception."

As loose fabric bundled in her grasp, the cat felt his hold alter. Suddenly, he was drawing the halves of her dress together, surely lining up the holes and tassels to more directly feed into each other. It was sensible, it was practical, and it wasn't as if he was being rough... but, no matter how she rationalised, Blaze still couldn't help feeling flustered. She was the guardian and ruler of this entire dimension, he was her closest companion and trusted confidante; they'd battled monsters, lived through squalor, and changed history together! Why did she feel so vulnerable here, in her own bathroom, with his hands on her back?!

With each knot tied his touch grazed closer further up her back, fingertips and knuckles slid against her. Those touches sparked memories of the other times he'd used his hands on her. In the afterglow of battle, once their foes had fallen, they would bandage each other and fuss over the countless wounds they had sustained. Huddling in the back of a mostly destroyed library, letting the hedgehog wrap torn cloth around her ribs to staunch the blood drawn by a monster's gouging claws, that was true vulnerability- not this! She was strong here, unharmed and refreshed!

Blaze felt the dress lighten in her grasp and couldn't help but glance to the mirror before them. Silver really was as close as he felt, practically straddling her backside as he worked his way up, and yet he still looked entirely at ease. She couldn't see how far up her dress he'd managed to seal, but by his touch she knew he was just over half-way up her back. The psychic's broad shoulders were framing her slighter form, his still slightly sullied fur contrasted against the dress set to be worn for the first time.

Silver's constant contact echoed in her mind. Was he trying to leave a crease in her fur? He was being so thorough, it was as if-

His eyes had caught hers, had he looked so comfortable this whole time? Had his smile grown when their gazes locked? The cat's returned her attention to the empty sink beneath her.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked.

"I'm certain," She lied.

Regardless of how gruff Blaze thought she had sounded, the hedgehog continued to work diligently. His hands did briefly leave her back, but she knew that this wasn't the end. The shoulders of the dress had been misaligned since he'd untied what few knots she'd managed prior. He pulled the red sleeves up to better fit against her clavicle, his wrist brushed against her neck.

Were his fingers lingering on her collar, at the fabric border? Her eyes returned to the mirror only to catch a small, rather perplexed, frown staring back at her. The hedgehog's heavy hands dipped down her front catching the lapels of her dress. He slid his hands up, straightening the front of the garb before pulling up to have it fit more smoothly against her shoulders.

"There," She saw his smile return, "That looks better."

"Just focus on the back," The cat fizzed, "I can handle the rest myself."

"Okay," He hummed, hands slipping back again, "Maybe, when things get going down there I'll be able to sneak in? You know, while everyone's focused on your speech or something?"

"You will do no such thing," She heard herself growl as she failed to maintain some inkling of composure.

A measure of regret tainted his muzzle, his eyes quickly lowered from the mirror to her back. No further words came in the wake of her insistence, she'd felt him hesitate but the knotting had quickly resumed. It wasn't that she didn't want him there, his presence would surely have made the night's bureaucracy pass faster, but this was a meeting of the elite. For her to bring along what was to them a commoner, let alone an uncouth otherworldly outsider, would surely cause a scandal.

His fingers kept hitching on the tie between the top of her shoulder blades, a grumble rolled from his throat. Why was he struggling now of all times? Was it the change in her temperament? Had he finally noticed how intimate this all actually was?

A sigh slipped through her lips, "I'm sorry Silver. Tonight is weighing on me more heavily than I thought..."

"Don't worry about it," He finally managed to tie that knot, "I shouldn't have even brought up the idea, it's not like I'm hard to identify," She looked up to find him looking off in thought, "Slipping into a butler's uniform probably wouldn't have been enough..."

"There are already enough rumours about you among the people, we don't want to pique any more curiosity," Two ties remained.

"There are rumours about me?" Did he truly not know? "Like what?"

"We don't have enough time to discuss that," She wasn't prepared to delve into the torrid imaginings of others while posed like this, "But perhaps we can use this as an opportunity to better things..."

"Better things?" One tie remained.

"Go to the eastern beach tonight," Blaze instructed him, "Watch the ocean. If you see anything unusual, then you have my express permission to enter the ballroom and whisk me away."

"I can do that, no problem!" Finally, the back of her dress was sealed, "That's the last knot tied."

The cat finally rose to her full height, taking in her reflection. The dress did feel like too much; while the long sleeves were intended to make her feel less exposed, its shining ruby coloured floral detailing was certain to draw attention. She'd picked it to match the gem on her forehead and usual hair-tie, hoping that would make this all feel more regular... but that plainly hadn't worked. To contrast, the hedgehog behind her still looked physically disheveled but infinitely more comfortable- both in mind and body.

She finally turned to him properly, "Thank you for doing this, Silver."

Their eye-contact broke, his stare tumbled away, "It's no problem, any time."

Why had that simple, minor, praise fluster him more than the position she'd put him in?! He'd been leaning over her, hands practically dancing across her back, freely gliding his fingers through her fur, but a simple thank you had done so much more to him. She knew this was how he worked, that he'd always taken praise poorly, but for modest kindness to so thoroughly trump physical contact was still so bizarre to her.

"Oh, wait," He stepped closer to her once more, practically pinning her back against the sink.

His arm slipped behind her and the cat's temperature skyrocketed, "What are you-

He pulled back to reveal the golden necklace she so often wore around her neck, "Do you want me to help you with this too?"

She could fasten it herself, she had countless times, "If you wouldn't mind…"

An impulse had betrayed her. Without so much as another word the hedgehog was again leaning past her, this time neck to neck and front to front. She felt his chest fur brush her muzzle as he began to fiddle with the clasp. Again, this was another act he could so easily have performed with his power! Instead he had chosen to get close; could he not feel the heat flagging from her? Was he just cold?!

"There, now you're ready," He casually said into her ear as he pulled back.

The awkwardness had fully vanished, Silver was back to beaming.

"You're so naive..." A knock at the door spun their heads, but she quickly returned to him, "Stay here, wait until I'm gone, then drift out the window. Make sure no one sees you."

He silently nodded as she slipped away from the bathroom, shutting the door to her back and not daring to throw another glance back at him. If all went as planned, she had seen him for the last time this evening. Now she had to focus! Blaze gathered a stack of papers from her desk, slipped on her heels, and made for the door.

Gardon was revealed on the other side, "Your highness, the guests are awaiting your arrival."

"Then it is time I joined them," She shut the door behind her, locking it, "Have there been any issues thus far?"

As she started to make her way down the halls, the koala followed, "No issues so far, what small discomfort I have noticed will surely be alleviated by your arrival."

Rather than speak further with her advisor and consider what small discomforts he had identified, Blaze couldn't help but dwell upon the hedgehog presently escaping her room. Silver hadn't needed to touch her, he could have done all he had to do from her bedroom even. She'd watched him undo locks with a wave, it wasn't as though the task of tying knots was too complex.

For a psychokinetic like him, every physical action was a choice, wasn't it? Every touch could be replaced with a psychic one, most born of mere thought rather than even so much as a gesture. He could have been reading or planning or doing almost anything while simultaneously helping her dress. Instead the hedgehog had devoted his full focus to that task, removing his gloves when it proved difficult rather than concede and use his power.

Was she being foolish? She didn't question why Silver would walk rather than float or run his fingers through his chest fur as he pondered. How was tonight any different? He had taken her hand countless times, wrapped her bandages physically, and even carried her to bed when nights dragged much too late. Had he consciously chosen those countless acts too? Had he even considered using his power tonight?

Was it natural to him to be physical with her? What did that imply? If Amy had asked for help with a dress, would he have done the same? Blaze couldn't imagine it. Certainly Amy would have had the gall to tell him to just use his powers. Why hadn't she done that? For all her questioning of his actions; her own inaction was just as baffling, she hadn't so much as considered asking him to stop and instead work telekinetically. She was royalty, she wasn't supposed to be handled so-

"Your highness?" Gardon's voice halted her train of thought.

"Yes?" She turned to her advisor.

"I asked if you feel prepared for this evening? If required, I could delay your arrival for a little longer," Gardon offered, "You seem to be more than a little lost in thought."

"No, I'm fine Gardon," She could see the doors to the great hall ahead, "It is best that I attend as quickly as possible."

With no more than a nod the koala scurried ahead, grasping the doorhandles in preparation to announce her arrival. Blaze brushed off her shoulders and strode forward, steeling her expression. She sucked a deep breath through her nose and closed her eyes as Gardon pushed open the entryway.

"Now announcing the arrival of her majesty Princess Blaze," The cat felt countless eyes turn in her direction from the ballroom below, "Ruler of the realm and Guardian of the Sol Emeralds!"

Music and endless claps rang loud, the cat opened her eyes and began her descent down spiralling stairs; there was a sea of overdressed people beneath her. Even as the noise enveloped her, even as she hardened her brows and began to make pleasantries, the feeling of her dress hugging at shoulders and hips toyed with her attention. That sensation, catalysed by the placement of knots down her back, endlessly kept Silver's chosen contact at the forefront of her mind. It was as if he was still hanging so close, brushing against her fur...

This was going to be a long evening.

[sharonzgallery]

It’s finally time to talk about the cultural project that’s been brewing in my head.

Assassin’s Creed: Summit, a fan game that I have no talent to program, set in 1740s colonial Colombia.

This guy is the game’s future Mentor, Jaguar Dorado/Javier Núñez. He’s Muysca Indigenous and Spanish, born into the Colombian indigenous brotherhood. His mother is Muysca royalty, and his (very loving and very present) father is a disgraced Jesuit priest.

I’ll discuss any cultural elements through asks and self reboots later!