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youwontlikethisblog · 3 years ago

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She's Ugly!

In a previous post I briefly touch on the subject of Armando and his belief of love. Here I will be going into more detail on my personal experiences as a writer who has written complex OC's with a very similar nature to that of Armando. I will be talking about some pretty heavy topics here so this is your warning if they make you uncomfortable or trigger you.

As a writer you spend most of your time doing research. You don't really spend it writing as more than 75% of the time is dedicated to researching the entirety of your story and it's characters. That means you research on mental health, social behaviors, addictions, learned behavior, coping mechanisms, ect... to create an authentic and realistic character.

When I was doing research for my OC, based on the past I wrote for them I had to look into the consequences that it carried into adulthood. I had to do a lot of research on coping mechanism and seggs addiction(I write really sad characters um but that's besides the point. Also try explaining your search history when you've got tabs and tabs about centers that deal with that addiction and so on).

[Below this I will talk about Seggsual Addiction and such. if it makes you uncomfortable skip to the next [RED]].

Doing that research I found out that many people who do have that addiction often use it as a form of escapism, control, or due to a lot more severe trauma. Sometimes it's just the feeling you get from that. Some have this addiction because of low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, and also because it's something they can control, or at the very least in their denial stage they believe that they can.

Seggs Addiction is when someone cannot function without it. When it becomes a problem in that person's life and ruins friendships, relationships, and their professional life. It can range from content watching to actual action of the addiction. This is a serious problem as it often leaves the people feeling helpless, dirty, lowers the quality of life and they feel a lot of shame due to it and it's something that they need professional help to be able to control and overcome, just like drug addiction.

[Now I will be talking about Armando and why this relates to this breakdown. You may proceed.]

Do I believe Armando has that? Not necessarily. I am not a professional so I cannot diagnose someone with that. I just know a lot about the subject because I had to do research on the topic in the past.

Armando is a complex character. The reason I bring this up is because he does show traits of it. Do his affairs get in the way of his professional life? Somewhat. Does it ruin friendships? Yes. Does it ruin relationships? Yes, mainly his.

We know Armando has had an array of women in his life. He is desired by a lot of women(I seriously do however believe that Mario is a s. addict).

I've thought about this part of his character for a while. I really don't know what Fernando Gaitan researched or what inspired him to write Armando's character so this is really just my own personal speculation and is not a fact of the show.

From the start we are told that Armando is a man with refined taste and high standards for his women. The secretaries tells this to Betty, if I'm not mistaken Marcela mentioned it once, and Mario tells him all the time.

A poster here in the tag made a post about the situation of Mario and Aura Maria and they did a really good job at breaking down this side of Armando; that he doesn't have a refined taste or high standards for women but rather he doesn't like involving himself with women who are not in the same social statues and circles as him because of the abuse of power that it entitles.

When he told Mario he wanted to fire Claudia for being crazy Mario reminded him of what he told him when he wanted Armando to fire Aura Maria and because of that Armando decides not to personally fire Claudia, it wasn't until Marcela asked for her head that he asked Hugo to fire her.

Now let me step away from the story and explain why I have this speculation.

Armando's parents aren't very active in his life. They're only there when it comes to the company or his relationship with Marcela(I already talked about his parents in The Art of Subtly in YSBLF post) now imagine that as you're growing up. That your parents aren't actively in your life unless you're achieving or accomplishing something. We know Armando has a sister that doesn't talk to their parents and is only in contact with him. That their mother possibly ruined her marriage to a man because he was poor. This tells us that his parents aren't the best.

A child who grows up having to overcompensate and over achieve grows up with low self-esteem, feelings of worthlessness, and other problems. They grow up believing that the only way they are worthy of love is by being perfect and they become obsessed with achieving perfection.

Due to this upbringing Armando is a control freak, neurotic, egocentric, and obsessed with perfection. He gets stressed out when things don't go his way. He has grown up in the fashion world and beauty has been fed to him that it is tall, thin, and above all has to be perfect.

A child is a product of their environment.

This has molded Armando into the person he is today.

On top of that Armando basically has his entire life planned out by his parents as a child who grew up hearing about the desire for him to be with Marcela to honor his parents best friends, for the good of the company, ect.

To receive his parents love he must do what his parents tell him, no exceptions. He must be the best at everything so he always aims high. In his proposal to be president he did exactly that.

Ironically Armando too is a people pleaser and feels like he has little to no control over his destiny.

So flings with Models become a form to cope. Though for a long time he enjoys those flings and what it entitles as it makes him feel good about himself, he is able to decide who he has a fling with but then it no longer is that.

My OC's addiction is driven by the desire of feeling wanted and needed. It boost her self-esteem though when it's over with she feels empty and hollow inside and we get a scene of Armando expressing those exact feelings to Mario the night he meets Ms. Colombia.

As they are leaving the cocktail Mario is upset that he[Armando] was leaving because he was so close to closing in on Ms. Colombia being his next conquest and that he couldn't change her for Marcela, who was always going to be there. Armando goes to explain something to him. He tells him that though at first he does get excited over the women and he does want to sleep with them that as soon as it's over he feels nothing anymore, that he doesn't enjoy it anymore.

This is part of a cycle and we see that.

Armando, before Betty, has the idea that if he falls in love it will be with a physically perfect woman who knows where she's standing and the only person that is like that is Marcela. He's got three reasons to marry her: He wanted her vote, his parents, and because she's what is mentioned above.

When Betty is introduce into his life she isn't what he expects in his dream woman. He expects perfection in a physical sense. However Betty has everything he wants in his dream woman in substance and personality.

He knows he likes Betty's personality but because she isn't physically perfect, he believes he isn't interested in her or attracted to her but because he likes her personality so much he believes he's entitled to her which is what drives his jealousy, it is not love.

Armando isn't in love with Betty here or at least not yet.

Betty embodies everything he wants and desires in a woman. She is humble, kind, respectful, unconditional, faithful, smart, like really smart and he likes that about her a lot, submissive and selfless.

However because the package isn't what he thinks is perfect, he cancels out. He denies that he likes her and he denies that he cares about her because of it.

So when Mario suggest for Armando to make Betty fall in love, Armando is apprehensive and disgusted by it.

Let's be honest, Betty isn't ugly! She's adorable! I will fight anyone who disagrees with this. Betty is cute and has always been cute.

I have spoken about Armando's emotional confusion a lot in the past few days but I haven't spoken about the mechanics of the confusion he is dealing with.

Denial is a strong defense mechanism. Subconsciously he has feelings for Betty and is attracted to her because of her personality but consciously he isn't. The mystery of the mind is never ending.

sub·con·scious /səbˈkänSHəs/

adjective of or concerning the part of the mind of which one is not fully aware but which influences one's actions and feelings. "my subconscious fear"

Armando's behavior towards finding out that Betty is in love has been dominated by his subconscious. However when it comes to facing those feelings he enters denial, therefore he cannot fathom the idea of ever being involved with someone so "ugly".

con·scious /ˈkän(t)SHəs/

adjective aware of and responding to one's surroundings; awake.

Armando is aware that Betty isn't his ideal of the type of women he is physically attracted to. He is aware the she isn't the standard of beauty.

Due to this he is refusing to listen to Mario.

Now that we understand this we can continue with the episode breakdown.

After Betty leaves, Armando is upset because Nicolas is the General Manager of Terra Moda(it feeds his paranoia talked about in the Betty, My Betty Part 3 post) .

Once again Armando and Mario switch roles. Armando is now aware of his conscious desires and he's sticking by them. Mario however is aware of Armando's subconscious desires.

Mario tries to level with him. He tells him that they can tell Betty to fire him but Armando rejects that by telling him that he does a good job and that Betty says he's important for Terra Moda, therefore Eco Moda, again this shows that Armando doesn't distrust of them in a professional sense. So they both agree that they shouldn't tell Betty to fire him. Mario first suggested that they reverse the seizure against Eco Moda and Armando goes on to reject that and explain why they can't do that. So Mario tells Armando that they need to think of something because it is a business deal involving them three; Armando, Himself, and Betty.

They agree that asking Betty to fire or take away so much responsibility from Nic could give way to Betty becoming hostile and resentful. Mario tells him that it would also be unfair since she's always been so unconditional with the both, Armando agrees.

We get to divides here. Two sides of the nickel.

Mario's priority and main concern is keeping Eco Moda and Armando as president for what it gives him.

Armando's priority is Betty's love life(Why else would he be so worried about her love life? A normal boss wouldn't care about your love life. Armando knows that Betty is a good and trustworthy employee and he said so himself).

Mario as always watched Armando carefully. The third and best option would have been to simply talk to Betty and be professionals and leave things alone and not doing anything about Betty's love life.

Mario tells Armando "Well the best option is to make Betty fall in love with you."

Armando goes on to say that he would never do that because he doesn't have the desire to and doesn't want to because Betty is ugly(this is why I said what I did above). Mario stops using the fear of losing Eco Moda and goes for the emotional because he knows that it will affect Armando's subconscious that will dominate him like it had been all day long.

"You're the perfect candidate because if it weren't for Nicolas showing up, I could have sworn she was in love with you. No, seriously, look at the way she looks at you, she's always been unconditional with you(he knows this is one of the qualities that Armando likes about Betty as he always lists it). My friend, if there's anyone that is capable of fighting against Nicolas Mora, it's the president of Eco Moda(here he is appealing to Armando's ego)."

What does Mario get out of all of this? Reputation in tact which allows him to continue living his best single life, which he said himself is his most prized possession. So it is important to him that Armando does whatever it takes to keep Betty from doing anything to get a husband(post Betty, My Betty! Part 3).

Fast forward Armando is in Marcela's apartment after the new collection launch and they're fighting because Armando let Betty into the event.

He not only defends his decision of inviting her as his guest but Betty's job and her role in the new collection. Marcela scoffs and they continue to argue.

What captured my attention though is that Armando tells Marcela that she can't be in a competing so absurd with a woman like Betty and shouldn't be in a feminine competition with her.

Armando is now go to the otherside of the room so we get his back as Marcela starts to speak ("You're wrong Armando I don't view her as a woman")and as she says "I am offended that you would think I feel she's a feminine competition-" Armando now looks at her confused.

Either he is confused because he doesn't understand what Marcela is trying to say or once again his subconscious is dominating him here.

The takeaway is that in Armando's mind Betty is a woman, ugly, but a woman nonetheless. He is confused as to why Marcela doesn't view her as a woman but still behaves the way she does.

We again get a classic scene of Betty writing in her diary as we hear her dialogue and get scenes of Armando in Marcela's bed.

We see Armando thinking about what Mario told him earlier that night.

When Mario told him that he would've sworm that Betty was in love with him[Armando] in that scene we didn't really get a reaction from him. He had a poke face but here, as he is thinking about it all he has a different look.

We stop getting a visual flashback, only an auditory one after Mario told him "I could've sworn she was in love with you." and the frame we're getting is Armando's face while laying in bed. He seems hopeful. The exact same expression he had when Betty told him that she didn't have anything with Nicolas.

We hear Mario's voice when he told him "If there's anyone who can fight Nicolas for Betty's love, it's the president of Eco Moda." Armando shifts in bed and covers his face. We then fade to Betty asleep on her bed and get another fade to Armando, this allows us to know that they are about to have another shared dream.

Armando is the mvp of this dream ss the camera focuses on him right away.

He seems happy in this dream as he runs around with Betty in a field with bright green grass and trees. He continues turns to look at Betty or allows Betty to lead him. Then in the dream Betty disappears and Armando is left alone, searching around him with a scared expression on his face until Betty finally appears in front of him. She nears him with her lips slightly puckered and Armando smiles and as well moves in closer until Betty runs away from him again.

The dreams shows us this two more times where Betty runs from him until the final time when Armando finds her and they near for a kiss we then get a real world Armando in bed shaking his head mumbling no, we can assume they are kissing in the dream.

This foretells what is to come. In Betty's eyes this is a good dream but we also know that due to her past Betty is afraid to love again which we're told this by her constant running away from Armando in the dream.

Armando's fear is brought to light in this dream that is of him losing Betty as it reoccurs more than once and each time he goes out to find her. There is times when he does want to kiss her but Betty pulls away and runs and then on the final one he becomes conscious in his dream(yes that happens, it's called lucid dreaming and sometimes it randomly happens).

The fact we kept getting fades from both Armando and Betty sleeping lets us know this was a dream simontainsly happening at the same time and it isn't until after they actually kiss that Armando's conscious starts to wake him up.

Marcela then finishes waking him up in the real world and asks Armando what he was dreaming, he tells her a horrible nightmare.

Again, Armando is aware that he doesn't find Betty to be his ideal perfect woman or the beauty standard. You know, she's "ugly" so having something physical even in a dream is a nightmare to him. The thing to take note of is that he was enjoying the beginning of that dream and it demonstrates his subconscious feelings.

We already Betty loved that dream.

The next morning Marcela mentions that if he doesn't talk about the dream he must secretly want it to come true.

His coping mechanism towards this entire situation has been denial. It protects him from having to face his true feelings and fears. It protects him from something he isn't ready to deal with yet.

He starts choking on his juice and coughing as Marcela watches him.

Marcela telling him this pushes him to face those fears of his, the fear that he does like Betty and that he does care about her more than just his employee however again, he is in denial therefore unable to understand this.

[You know I will write a post about how Aura Maria and Freddy are a parallel of Betty and Armando.]

Neither Betty or Armando talk about their dream to anyone, or at least the real content of said dream, which based on what Marcela insinuated, Armando secretly wants that dream to come true.

This is a fact because later on when Armando has that nightmare of Betty making out with Nicolas inside the new car they got, he tells Marcela about the nightmare or at least some distorted version of it, because he doesn't want that nightmare to come true. This time though he doesn't talk about it.

Betty clarifies the situation between Nicola and her roll in Terra Moda and Armando thanks her for it.

When she goes into her office Armando tells Mario that he's right about making Betty fall in love.

This next scene I already broke down in another post. Armando suggest Mario for the job because he knows that Mario would never fall in love with Betty but at least it would secure the company. However since Mario would never fall in love with Betty that would mean that he wouldn't have competition since you know these two pigs share everything.

Not only that but it would mean that he gets to avoid and deny his feelings without the worry of Nicolas and Betty ending up together and Nicolas turning her against him.

Armando tells Mario that he gets that it's the more logical thing that he[Armando] is the one to make Betty fall in love but that it's not morally correct.

He gets angry as he tells him that he can't do that to her, a woman who has been very special to him, too special towards him. Again this shows that Armando takes notice and likes that Betty treats him the way she does and because of that he doesn't want to hurt her and he knows that she doesn't deserve that.

However Mario then pulls the "your parents will be so disappointed and angry at you if you lose the company. So do you have to decide whether you'll be a rat to your parents or Betty."

As they discuss the sinister plan they solely based the problem in the physicality. As Armando even said himself the only bad thing about the plan was that Betty was ugly. If Betty wasn't ugly Armando wouldn't be afraid to face his feelings therefore be upfront about them.

However because she is it clashes with all his other traits. His ego, vanity, obsession with perfection and the fact he was unable to be in control over who he ends up falling in love with or liking.

I don't know what worse, Armando knowing how selfish the plan is against Betty and still going along with the it for the sake of the company and his unwillingness to admit to his parents that he was wrong or Mario knowing exactly what's going and how to manipulate Armando to do this and not caring about his best friends feelings and the guilt he will carry on as long as Armando remains president for his own greed.

In the next post I will breakdown the scene in which Armando drunkenly confesses somewhat his very confused feelings.

'Til next time :)

Ps. Sorry for all this typos! I'm an insomniac so I usually write these sleep deprived lol.

#armando mendoza #don armando #armando ysblf #beatriz pinzón solano #beatriz pinzon solano #betty la fea #betty ysblf #yo soy betty la fea #mario calderon #marcela valencia #betty pinzón solano

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godofplumsandthunder · 4 years ago

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Twisted Fate

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Cancer, both Bucky and reader have cancer, Major Character death, brief hospital terms mainly reffering to cancer treatment. References to amputation.

A/N: This was written for the lovely @eurynome827 2k celebration. I got a lovely quote of lyrics from Hadestown, which I wanted to do something that was based off of the musical, but I couldn’t figure anything out. Then I had a big anniversary come up and this was came out instead. It’s very angsty, I cried a lot, and well I hope you like it.

The low, steady hum of the fan fills the awkward silence. The psychiatrist, newly assigned to the case, still doesn’t feel comfortable. “Case number 32557038” was widely known in the health care center. The whispers and rumors floated their way down the hall, past the copy machine, filling the office with this chilling tale. Some regarded it as a terrible series of bad luck, others thought it was an act of some benevolent God, pouring his rage on this poor couple. Dr. Breynord, after reading the notes on the file, Breynord knew that this case was perhaps the worst case of bad luck she ever saw in her career, and, maybe it was her stubbornness or naive belief in medicine, but Dr. Breynord was going to help this poor man get the peace he so desperately needs.

“James,” Dr. Breynord’s voice breaks the silence of the office, “I’ve read what my colleagues had to say about your case, but, I’d like you to tell me what has happened if you feel comfortable.”

Shifting in his seat, James sighs, with a small nod of the head, he starts at the beginning.

Bucky Barnes was used to change. Granted, it was other people’s change, but it was still change nonetheless. The poor folks that sat next to him each clinic visit changed, his caretakers changed, it seemed as if the whole world changed around him, while he was stuck in some perpetual hell. Every day dragged out in the same dull, and nauseating feeling, and at times, Bucky felt he was in an endless loop, forsaken by some deity he didn’t believe in. But, for however long Bucky has left in this fallen and cruel world, he’ll remember when you walked in, shattering the miserable purgatory he was banished to, he’ll always remember the day you changed his life.

It happened during his first transfusion session after his surgery. His arm, still wrapped in bandage, IV tubing leading straight to his heart, pumped his body full of liquids, as he waited for the toxic poison to enter his body. He always found it ironic, the “medicine” that was supposed to save his life, that was too dangerous for the nurses to touch with their bare hands, was willingly flushed into his body. Hair loss, mouth sores, and muscle aches were the better side effects. He can’t help but think about what is coming, especially as he sees his nurse, Thor, come over with the freshly made batch of poison [STRIKE THROUGH], chemotherapy as his doctor would want him to call it. Hanging the bag on his IV pole, Thor looks over at Bucky, giving him the “I’m going to go on a rant about something you should care about” look.

“Now James, we’re getting a new patient today. It’s their first transfusion. They’re going to be sitting in the pod next to you. I swear to the gods, I best not hear another complaint about your attitude.”

“Me? An attitude? No, I think you got me confused with someone else. I’m the brightest little ball of sunshine here!” Bucky can’t help but chuckle. It’s not his fault he wasn’t a “warrior”, blasting “Fight Song” 24/7, as he sips on a kale smoothie with coffee suppositories shoved up his ass. T

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, Barnes,” Thor shakes his head as he cleans up his station, “don’t think I won’t throw your bald ass out of here. That cancer sob story, won’t work on me.”

Bucky goes back to his phone, already feeling the effects of the chemo. No matter how many anti-nausea meds they fed him, Cisplatin always makes him sick. So, he had the right to act like a grumpy old grandpa. While he scrolls through his social media feed, seeing all the accomplishments, brags, and just shit of his friends, Bucky hears your sniffles, as you make your way down to the end of the Oncology clinic, taking a seat next to Bucky. Even if Thor hadn’t given him the heads up, he would have known you were fresh meat. One infusion, his mom asked him how he could tell. It was easy for Bucky, it all had to do with the eyes. A cancer diagnosis shatters you. It kills all hope, light, and goodness that’s in you. You turn completely numb to the world, to the point where your own wailing and sobs feel muted. Bucky saw all of that in your eyes. Behind the puffy, redness, saw the shards of hope, the fear of the unknown. Before you could reach your seat, you stumble, spilling your possessions that you carried all over the floor. Bucky watches quietly as you quickly pick up your items, collapsing into the chair next to him.

“Sorry I couldn’t give you a hand, only have the one,” he wiggles his stump, and he's met with silence. Talk about a rough crowd, he thinks, his nephews love his stumpy jokes. “So,” Bucky continues, “what are you in for? I’m a sarcoma, in the arm.” You sniffle as you turn your body to look at this new man.

“Leukemia,” you confess, voice barely above a whisper. It takes a real effort to say it out loud because then it makes all of this real.

“That’s good then,” the “sarcoma” man says to you, and Bucky can see the confusion, and pain on your face.

“How is that good? How is cancer good?”

Using his arm, Bucky points around the room, giving you a tour of the room.

“See him, that’s Riley, he has an inoperable brain tumor. That young kid, with the Switch? His name is Peter, his body is chemo resistant. So yeah, leukemia is good. If you haven’t learned it yet, not all cancers are made equal.”

“Oh,” you barely make out. What were you supposed to say to that?

=====

Much to Bucky’s surprise, he actually enjoyed having your company. Your treatments lined up and so you both got to know each other well. Bucky enjoyed having someone close to his age that understood his problems. And it also didn’t hurt that you had such a great personality, you got Bucky’s dark humor (and it went without saying that you understood it was his way of coping), and you looked great. Not many people can rock a bald head. And Bucky has seen his fair share, and he can say with confidence, you rocked it. Not covering it up with caps, scarves, or wigs. Because why should you hide away? For the first time since his diagnosis, Bucky had a purpose. So, while his immune system allowed him to leave the house, he picked up a bouquet of fake flowers (neutropenia life, am I right?) and a box of chocolates to take with him to the next transfusion. When he got to the clinic, Bucky was a bit worried to see that you weren’t next to him. Instead, there sat Barb, 75 years old with breast cancer.

“Oh sweetie, are those for me?” Barb looks at the flowers in Bucky’s hand.

“No!” He snaps, as closes the curtain that surrounds his chair. He hears some huffs and complaints from Barb, but frankly, he doesn’t give a damn. Bucky only has one thing on his mind: you.

“Are you alright? You’re not here at Club Med” Bucky texts as quickly as his one hand would let him. Dropping his phone, Bucky stares at it all while the nurses prep him. And because of damn, HIPAA, none of the nurses can tell him where you’re at. Minutes turn into hours, and by the time Bucky’s infusion ends, you still haven’t responded to him or shown up at the clinic.

“Hope you’re okay. Call or text me. I'm worried” Bucky sighs, realizing how much you made his chemo treatments more bearable. How your laugh could make him forget of the poison he had to take, or how the light in your eyes could make him forget, even just for a bit, how much his arm stump was hurting. You were a drug, more potent than any he’s had before, and Bucky was becoming addicted. He’s picking at the hamburger he got for dinner, not having much of an appetite when his phone goes off. Seeing it’s from you, he rushes to answer.

“Y/N! I… Where were you? I missed you today. I had to sit by Barb and…” The sounds of your cries cut Bucky off.

“Are you okay?”

“No, Buck. I… Got some bad news today.”

“Where are you?” He asks. He knows you’re alone, and speaking from experience, you never want to be alone when you get bad news. He knows from experience.

“Buck…” you sigh, “It’s fine. Really.”

“Please, Y/N, I know what it’s like to be alone after getting this kind of news. Please, let me be there for you.” Breaking further down into tears, you cry at Bucky’s actions, actions of love.

“I’ll send you my address,” Bucky gathers the flowers and chocolates as he rushes to your apartment, breaking a few traffic laws to get there faster. When he gets there, the image of you, opening the door, eyes swollen from crying breaks his heart.

“Oh, Y/N,” Bucky sweeps you into his arm, as he closes the door behind, “tell me what’s going on hun.”

You both sit on the couch, the bag with the flowers and chocolate lay at your feet, as you stay in Bucky’s embrace.

“I’m… I’m dying Buck!” You manage to say in-between odds. “Dr. Fair... gave me three months to live. There’s nothing else they can do.” You break down in his arms, that last straw finally breaking, as you tell your newfound best friend, the person you were supposed to beat cancer with. Bucky tries his best to remain strong, to be the rock, the foundation you need, but you’re not the only one that is losing a friend. You sit in each other's embrace, as you mourn. You cry for all the missed opportunities, laughs, and memories that won’t be made.

“What am I going to do,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from crying.

Kissing your head, Bucky pulls you in closer, “we, are going to make these three months, the best three months you’ve ever had.”

Bucky lives up to his promise, spending every hour he isn’t in the hospital with you. The time you spent together changed your relationship. Neither had to officially say the words to make your relationship official. It was just you, and Bucky. Holding each other close, as the tempest waged on, trying to beat you into submission. You go on walks in the park, picnics, and one night when you both had the energy, went skinny dipping. Your logic being, what are the cops going to do? Arrest two cancer patients, with one of them being terminal? You threw caution to the wind and simply lived. Lived, breathed, and loved. Things seemed to be perfect until reality hit.

Your body wasn’t keeping up. Your cancer was spreading faster than they predicted. The doctors couldn’t give you an explanation as to why the cancer was spreading so fast. It shouldn’t have been. Soon, home hospice came, to try to make you more comfortable. And like the good partner he was, Bucky spent every minute by your side. That’s why, when you felt the inevitable coming, you felt your body give in to the tiredness of fighting, you grab Bucky’s hand.

“I love you, James Bucky Barnes,” you weakly say, giving him one last affirmation, as you went to sleep, for one last time.

As Bucky wakes up from his nap, feeling your cold body, he tries to ruse you back awake. Once he realizes what has happened, the last bit of humanity inside of Bucky snapped. He lets out a blood-curdling scream, as tears stream down his face. He strikes your face, pleas escape his mouth. Pleas to you, to a God he has long stopped believing in. His body shakes, his tears wetting your hair, as he holds you for one last time.

=====

“Oh James,” Dr. Breynord grabs herself a tissue before handing Bucky the box of tissues. “I truly am so sorry to hear that. I want you to know that I am here to help you get happy again, and to heal.”

Bucky sighs and turns away from the doctor as he wipes his eyes. “You’re just like the rest of them. You didn’t listen to me.”

Breynord was surprised that this was Bucky’s complaint. The other doctors had warned her that Bucky could be sarcastic, standoff-ish, and even flat-out rude to them. Breynord thought she did a good job listening to his story, what did she miss.

“I… I don’t think I understand what you mean, James.”

Bucky lets out a heartless, empty laugh, “you want me to be happy again. I’m never going to be. Not only do I have to live with the guilt of surviving, when she died, in my arms, but I’ll also never find another soul like hers. We had a connection, you know. It felt like we met before. When I held her in my arm, and her arms would wrap around me, it felt like I had the whole world in my arms. I didn’t need anything else when I had Y/N.”

“So tell me doc, what’s the point of carrying on?”

#eury2kchallenge #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky angst #cancer #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #oneshot

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noladyme · 4 years ago

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The Wife - Chapter 5

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. As rumors spread that Mr. James Delaney had returned to England – making a dramatic arrival at his father’s funeral – you might imagine mothers throughout London, rushing to present their marriable daughters to the man. They did not; and for three very good reasons. First; James Keziah Delaney was clearly damaged from his travels, and not a little dangerous. Secondly; it was the general opinion of the better society that Mr. Delaney had inherited his mother’s madness. Thirdly; Mr. Delaney was not single. In fact, he was very much married.

TW: angst, violence, blood, smut (6214 words)

The next week, Rosalind spent her days entertaining guests, or visiting; doing embroidery, and darning socks; turning Chamber House into something that resembled a home; and taking promenades with her husband. She spent her nights – and on occasion, mornings – letting that same husband take her any which way he wanted, and loving every moment of it.

On one such occasion, she’d woken to find him, wearing only his shirt; and bent over a mess of documents, looking frustrated, and tired. Climbing out of the small bed, she quietly walked over to him, and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “I am working", he chided. “Did you sleep at all?”, she asked. “Enough. When you didn’t snore", he replied. “If you don’t want me sleeping next to you, then ask me to go to my own bed", Rosalind said, trying not to sound hurt. “No. You keep me warm", James said, took her hand from his shoulder, and pulled her down to sit on his lap. He caught her lips in a kiss, and pulled her as close as possible; making her feel his beginning hardness through the fabric of his shirt and her nightgown.

“I thought you had work to do", she breathed, as his lips travelled down her neck, and his hand dug into her bottom. “You distracted me”, he breathed against her collarbone. “You can’t be very good at your work, if you let yourself be so easily distracted”, Rosalind laughed. James pulled his head back, and raised his brows at her. “You believe you would be able to do a better job?”. He got on his feet, and made her sit on his chair; handing her a book of accounts. “Here. I’ve received a shipment of wine from France, and need to calculate the costs…”. “You mean to tell me your shipping company is an actual shipping company?”, she scoffed. “Keeping up appearances, wife”, James said. “Now, will you please help me calculate how much money I can make from sending this same shipment to Portugal?”. Rosalind blushed in embarrassment. “I wouldn’t know where to begin…”, she said. “Try”, James said, and kneeled in front of her. “Meanwhile, I will do my best to distract you”.

He lifted the hem of her nightgown, and dove his head under it; running his calloused and yet so very soft hands up her thighs. “James!”, Rosalind exclaimed. “How much did the shipment cost me?”, he said, brushing his lips against her inner thigh. His beard tickled deliciously against her skin. “It’s in the ledger”. “250£”, she said, gazing down into the book. “Hmm”, James muttered, his warm breath reaching her core. “And how much did I pay the captain of the ship to bring it?”. “75£… Oh, my…”. She felt a soft kiss against her mound. James flicked his tongue against her nub, and she jolted in her seat. He put his hands on her hips, and moved her bottom forwards on the chair. “Now, I have two captains offering me to take the shipment to Portugal”. His warm breath against her folds as he spoke, made her gasp. “One has good connections with a wine trader in Lisbon, but will charge me 130£ for his services”. He flicked his tongue again, and Rosalind threw her head back. “The other will charge me far less, but his connections aren’t as good. Which one should I choose?”. She received a torturously slow lick between her lower lips, all the way from her entrance to her nub. “I don’t… fuck…”.

James nibbled at one of her labia. “See, it is not so easy, when someone is distracting you”, he said, and pulled back from under her nightgown, looking up at her with chiding eyes. Rosalind let out a frustrated whimper. “Please…”. “Please, what? What do you want?”, James demanded. “You have disrupted my work; you’ve got me on my knees for you… What do you want?”. It was always the same. James wanted Rosalind to tell him what she wanted him to do to her, and she was learning to ask for it, but still felt embarrassed every time she did. “Speak, woman!”, James growled with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Please… use your mouth on me. Kiss me, and lick me, and… Oh!”.

James had dived under her gown again, and was devouring her with ferocity. His tongue stroked her labia, while he sucked on her pebble. Lifting one of her knees to rest over his shoulder, James pulled her further forwards on the chair; allowing him to lap into her entrance, and use his finger to stroke her nub. He sounded like he was enjoying a delicious meal, and his hold on her bottom was so hard, that she wouldn’t be able to get free, even if she wanted to. It didn’t take James long to have his wife crying out in pleasure, as she shook violently from her orgasm.

With his hands around her waist, James pulled Rosalind down to straddle him, and instantly entered her. Rosalind threw her arms around his shoulders, and grinded hard against him, to stretch out her delight. James pulled at her nightgown, to get it over her head, so he could suckle at her nipple. Soon, her thighs were beginning to burn from lifting herself up and down on him, and James lifted her off him; pushing her down to lay with her chest against the floor. He lifted her bottom into the air, and entered her again; thrusting with wild abandon. James hips slamming against her, were like spanks against her bottom, and he dug his fingers into her hips. He held one hand between her shoulders, and Rosalind clawed at the floor; needing to hold on to something – anything. In sheer desperation, she ended up grabbing on to the leg of the chair, which then skirted back and forth across the floor with each of James thrusts.

Sliding his hand under her belly, James stroked circles against her nub, and once again the coil in her belly tensed to the point of snapping. He used his free hand to lift her, so she was resting on her elbows, and when she cried out in extasy, he leaned down, and bit into her neck; like an animal marking his mate. The pain was welcome, only adding to and prolonging the jolts of pleasure going through Rosalind’s body.

With a loud growl, James pulled out of her, and climaxed himself; spilling himself on her back. She laid splayed out on the floor under him, panting for breath. “James…", she whispered. “I love you", James replied.

Rosalind felt a shiver go through her body, and her heart fluttered. She turned around to meet his eyes. James looked at her warmly, before suddenly, his face dropped. “Go get dressed. I must finish this", he said, and gestured towards his desk. His tone was brusque, and his expression dark. “But…”. “Not now. Do as I say”. He took a handkerchief, and quickly wiped her off, before getting on his feet, and back in his seat.

Rosalind put her nightgown back on, and left the attic quietly; confused but strangely warm at heart.

---

James spent the rest of the day searching every inch of the house for the Nootka Treat; even the places he’d already searched twice. He was checking loose floorboards, knocking on walls; and at one point, Rosalind found him covered in soot, from having searched the chimney. She tried not to let herself hope he would change his mind, and stay in England – or at least ask her to come with him to America – but in her heart, she could not help but wish for a future with her husband.

In the evening, James seemed more preoccupied than usual during dinner. After having tried to start any kind of conversation with him, Rosalind finally gave up, and sighed deeply. “I’ve reconsidered the curtains”, she said. “Perhaps we should forego them all together. I could walk around naked, and let who ever wanted to, stand in the yard, and watch me”. “Hmm”, James replied, for the seventh time. Rosalind had kept count. “Atticus could sell tickets, and Cholmondeley could sell his gas”, she continued. “I’m thinking two shilling a head”. “Make it three; and don’t let anyone tell you you’re worth less than that”, her husband grunted. Rosalind cocked a brow at him. “So, you are listening”, she muttered. “Hmm”, James replied. “You are very amusing…”.

Rosalind pushed away her plate. “James, what’s wrong? I know you’re not a conversationalist, but this is ridiculous”. James ran a hand down his face, and grunted frustratedly. “I’ve searched every fucking inch of this house, and I still haven’t found that treaty”. She took a sip of her wine, and looked down; a knot forming in her stomach. “Is it really that urgent?”, she asked.

“I will be meeting with Thoyt in the morning, to make up a will. In the event of my death, Nootka Sound will go to the Americans; making it unviable for the Company or the crown to kill me”. “But what about the Americans, then?”. “They’ve tried and failed. They even tried to take you, and I stopped them. As it is, our negotiations are going well; and they have more to win from letting me keep it”, James grunted. “But to make the will legal, I must be able to prove that it is mine”. “Will you be unable to leave if you cannot find it?”, Rosalind muttered. James met her eyes; his own hard. “Do you know where it is?”, he asked brusquely. “No! I swear, I don’t… But you can’t blame me for not wanting you to find it; if it will keep you here with me”. “Rosalind…”, James said, and shook his head softly.

She got up from her chair abruptly, and walked over to the fireplace. “Why can’t I go with you to America?”, she said quietly. James got up himself and walked over to sit on the sofa. “You don’t belong there”, he said, slouching down in his seat. The dog put its head on his knee, and he scratched it behind its ears. “You mean, I don’t belong with you”, Rosalind said. “Hmm…”, he nodded. “I’ve told you so, many times. You will be better off without me”. “But I won’t be happy”. She turned around, and a lone tear escaped her eye.

In a surprisingly gentle gesture, James took her hand and pulled her to him, making her sit on his lap. “I am here now”, he muttered. “For however long that is. Once you have your treaty and your ship, you will be lost to me”. James wiped her tear away, and pressed his lips to hers. “I am here now”, he repeated. He tutted at her small sobs. “No more of that. I’ve told you; don’t make me a weakness. You are better than that”.

They sat for a long time in silence, while James stroked her back. “Will you do one thing for me?”, Rosalind whispered. “Hmm?”, James responded. “Will you at least, for one night, share the bed with me, that we were meant to sleep in together, on our wedding night?”. Her voice was timid, as she looked at him through her lashes. James nodded curtly, and patted her thigh for her to stand. He took her hand, and led her up the stairs, to her bedroom. The house was quiet again, the only sound coming from their feet against the floor, and James soft hums.

James walked over to the chest which held Rosalind’s wedding gown, and pulled it out. “Put it on”, he said, and held it out to her. “James, no… Don’t make this…”, Rosalind said. “I never got to take it of you. I would like to do that”. Rosalind felt a smile form on her lips. “You want me to put it on, so that you can take it off me…?”. “Yes”, James replied matter-of-factly. “Alright”, she whispered, and took the dress from him. James nodded with a satisfied smile. “And the veil. There was a veil, was there not?”. Rosalind took off the dress she was wearing. “In the bottom of the chest”, she said.

James crouched in front of the chest. She was slipping the wedding gown over her head, and trying to ignore the stain on it, when she heard a click. “What is this?”, James said. Rosalind turned around, and walked over to join him. James had pulled at a clasp on the side of the chest, and the intricately carved wooden side fell off, revealing a hidden compartment. A rolled-up piece of parchment was propped up in there. “Oh, god…”, Rosalind said. Her heart dropped.

James sat down with his legs under him, and pulled off the string holding the parchment together. “Is that…?”, Rosalind croaked. “Yes”, James said. His voice sounded far away, as he stared down at the document. “This is the Nootka Treaty. The piece of paper documenting how my father bought the land and my mother from the Nootka Tribe”. “I didn’t know, James, I swear!”. He shook his head. “No, I know. You would have never let me near the chest, if you knew”. Rosalind clenched her hands. “I wouldn’t keep it secret from you. I could never do that”, she breathed. “Hmm”. He got on his feet, and walked towards the door. “Rosalind, I must see to this. I will see you in the morning”.

He closed the door behind him, and once again left his wife in her wedding dress; knowing she would not be sharing their marriage bed with him that night – if ever.

---

James stayed in the attic all night, and left the house early the next morning. Brace let Rosalind know that he had a meeting with Thoyt, and after that, some of his more secret connections. He looked quite solemn when he spoke; and Rosalind decided not to pry.

In the evening, after she had dined alone, James returned home looking like a thundercloud. “You’re late for dinner”, she muttered chidingly at him; from where she sat in front of the fireplace, with a book in her hands, and the dog resting its head on her feet. “Why did you not tell me of the Company man that has been following you?”, James demanded. His voice was ragged, and his eyes on fire. Rosalind frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about”. “The man who came for you, at Cholmondeley’s exhibition”. “He didn’t do anything to me. And I’ve only seen him twice”, Rosalind said. “Oh, it’s twice; now?”, James retorted. “How do you expect me to keep you safe, if you do not tell me of such things?”. “I didn’t know…”, Rosalind exclaimed. James stormed out of the room, and up the stairs. “James!”.

She ran after him, into her bedroom, where he was opening drawers and pulling out her belongings. “What are you doing?”, she said. “Pack up. I have a ship waiting for you at the port”, James grunted. She sprang over and grabbed his arm, as he pulled a travelling trunk from under the bed. “Stop, James. Why are you doing this?”. James grabbed her wrist, and held her close to him. “You are leaving London tonight”. “I will do no such thing!”, Rosalind sneered. “I cannot have you here, if you will not do as you’re told”, James growled. “Hmm. So, now you will pack your bags, and leave”.

He grabbed her nightgown from underneath the covers of the bed, and threw it into the open trunk. “Stop it!”, Rosalind cried out, and pushed James away from the trunk. “I have done everything you’ve told me to do, without question. You never said to tell you of every person I might come across. I didn’t know…”. Her heart was in her throat, and her hands were shaking. “I will not go. No… You can’t…”. Tears began streaming from her eyes. “I will carry you onto the ship, if I have to”, James said. “You will have to!”, Rosalind hissed through her tears. “Why are you doing this?”. “Because having you here comes in the way of my business”. She shook her head violently. “No… It’s because I’ve become a weakness to you”. “You don’t know what you’re talking about”, James said, and stepped back; creating further distance between them. His eyes were cold.

“You finally got your hands on that treaty, and now you’ve realized what you’re giving up… You’re looking for an excuse to part ways with me now, so it won’t hurt as much when you leave yourself”. Rosalind walked towards him. “I could come with you to America. There is no reason for me not to”. “No, you can’t”, he replied. “I don’t want you there”. “You love me, James. You said it yourself”, she said. “I don’t love”, he breathed, his eyes cold. “You love me!”, she insisted. “And that frightens you, because you think that means you have to choose between me and that wretched place, that you cling on to, out of some sick obligation you’ve inherited from your father… You don’t think you deserve happiness, and I pity you for it… James, you love me, and I love you”. James pounced on her; grabbed either side of her head, and stared menacingly into her eyes. “I have no use for your pity, and I have no use for your love!”, he hissed. “Pack your bags or don’t. If you’re staying, be it on your own head. You are not coming with me, because I have no more use for you. You and I are finished”. He spun around, and left the room; slamming the door behind him.

Rosalind felt as if all life left her body, and slumped over on the floor; her heart in a thousand pieces.

---

She did not get out of bed in the morning. Pearl came in with a tray of toast and eggs, but she could not eat any of it; merely stared up into the ceiling. When Pearl went to open the curtains, Rosalind asked her to leave them closed, only wanting darkness. At lunchtime, when the maid returned to fetch the uneaten food, and traded it for soup, she was still laying there; only blinking when her eyes teared up from dryness. She did not cry. She had no use for tears, after all.

Dinner went the same way; though it was Brace that came, instead of Pearl. “I made you bacon, ma’am; just the way you like it”, he said. “I know it’s not dinner-food, and that James doesn’t…”. “Take it away. I am not hungry”, she replied. “Rosalind…”, Brace tried, foregoing decorum. “You have to…”. “Take it away”. Brace sighed. “Should I at least relight the fire for you? It is bloody cold in here”. “There is no warmth in the Delaney house”, Rosalind whispered. The butler left the room quietly.

The next day was the same. She could tell from whispers outside her door, that Brace and Pearl were discussing how to best get through to her; how to help her. She had no use for their help. The maid came in to the dark room with a beautiful cake a few hours later. “We made you this, especially. Thought it might cheer you up…”, she smiled. Rosalind turned her back to her. “Give it to Winter”, she whispered. Pearl sighed. “Please, ma’am. You’ll make yourself sick like this”. “Hmm”, Rosalind replied. “A dead woman cannot get sick”. She heard the door close quietly, as Pearl left the room.

She woke from a dreamless sleep in the middle of the night, at the sound of yelling and arguing. She couldn’t make out all the words. “… up there, and you think getting drunk will solve…”, she heard Brace yell. James growled something in response. “… your wife! She won’t eat, just lays… you will just leave?”. Another series of growls and grunts. “… deserves better!”. “Yes she does!”, James roared. A door slammed, and glass shattered. She fell back asleep soon after; her body exhausted from lack of food or drink.

On the third day, she woke around noon. There was a tray of food on the bedside table, and her stomach was screaming for sustenance in such a manner, that she could no longer ignore it. She had use for food. Ingesting the toast and boiled egg, rather than eating it; she then got dressed, and did her hair up in a scarf. Though it had only been a few days, she did not recognize the woman in the mirror. Her cheeks were gaunt, and there were dark circles under her eyes.

She had use for air, so she put on a jacket and her boots, and without telling anyone, she left the house quietly, and began walking down the shoreline. Once the ground beneath her became too soft to walk on, without getting stuck, she made her way up onto the docks. The sounds of laughing made her look around the corner of a building, where she found Winter cutting up her cake in smaller pieces; sharing them equally between the younger children surrounding her. She felt a strange tug at the corner of her lip, and found that a smile had ghosted her face. Winter looked up at her, and waved. Rosalind waved back, and walked on. It was good that someone found use for the cake, when she could not.

Taking a moment to rest, Rosalind looked around the docks, and at the ships there. She found herself imagining where the ships might be heading once loaded. A sloop named La Charlotta she thought would go to Spain to trade for oranges. Another, named The Orlando, she saw as it rode the waves of the Baltic, to trade tea for whale oil. She saw a brig named Felice Adventurero, and was just about to mentally ship it towards Russia, when suddenly she knew exactly where it was going.

The Felice Adventurero was going to America; taking her husband with it. James was signing a piece of paper a boatswain was handing him, and overseeing the loading of crates onto the ship.

Rosalind froze in place, simply unable to move. All sounds around her disappeared, there were only whispers, as in her dreams – the ones where James had visited her. She saw him raise his head, and look around him; and then their eyes met. His expression was one mixed between a child being caught doing something wrong, and a man determined not to let anything faze him. For a long moment, they held each other’s gaze, then Rosalind looked at the ship again, nodded, and turned around; walking away. James had his ship, and was lost to her, forever. She walked back to Chamber House, and went into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

Hours later, while Rosalind was seated in front of the unlit fireplace in her room, there was a soft knock on the door; and James entered. “You have your ship”, she said quietly. “Yes. I am negotiating safe passage, and as soon as I have it, I will sail to America”. “Hmm”, Rosalind replied. He stood looking at her for a moment, as if anticipating her to say something else. “I have made up the papers for you to have this house. Brace will stay behind, and is willing to stay on as butler”. She shook her head. “No thank you. Leave the house and everything in it to him”, she said. “I have no use for it. There are too many ghosts here”.

James grunted in confusion. “How will you make your way? You have no income”. “Perhaps I can go to Helga. Or perhaps I will live in a shack on the harbor, and live of scraps. It does not matter”. She pulled out her combs, and let her hair fall down her shoulders. “That is not who you are, Rosalind. That is not the woman I married”, James breathed. She finally turned around, and met his eyes. “The woman you married is gone. You are a widower…”.

His eyes widened. It was as if he was looking at a stranger, and he shook his head; looking almost afraid. “You should leave. This room is no place for you”, Rosalind said. James backed out of the room, unable to break eye contact with the woman who had been his wife. Rosalind turned back towards the fireplace, and let out a deep breath.

---

The whispers where like songs; a multitude of them. They scared her and soothed her, all at the same time. She stood waist-deep in water, and in her reflection, she saw that her face was covered in white paint, and her eyes black.

“Rose…”. Someone was calling to her from the shore. She turned around and saw him there; James. His eyes were pained. “Is this my dream, or yours?”, she asked in a whisper. “Rose…”, he said. “Come to me”. He reached out a hand, goading her closer. “No… This is my place now. You can leave it behind. You are free”. James shook his head fervently, and took a step out into the water. “This was not made for you. You don’t belong here”. “But you gave it to me”, Rosalind smiled.

James waded into the water, and was soon standing in front of her. He put his hands on either side of her face. “I am not leaving you in here. Please, my love…”. There were tears in his eyes. Rosalind knew she had to make him leave. She lifted her hand, and with a soothing smile, she put them on his chest, and he was jolted away from her; disappearing.

Spreading her arms out, Rosalind leaned backwards, and let herself fall into the water; and sink down into the darkness.

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It was just before dawn when she woke. Unable to truly understand what she’d just dreamt, Rosalind crawled out of bed, and walked over to the washbasin to splash some water in her face. White paint came off when she dried herself with a towel. Getting dressed, she decided to take another walk, wanting to avoid facing any of the inhabitants of the house. The park seemed the obvious place to go, though she did fear having to face any acquaintances; so, she kept to the smaller paths.

As she was gazing over a small pond, she suddenly felt a hand on her arm. She spun around, and stood face to face with Thorne Geary. “I am sorry, Mrs. Delaney. I did not mean to startle you”, he said. “Mr. Geary… I have nothing to say to you”, Rosalind said. Her heart was in her throat, as her former assailant looked down at her with saddened eyes. “I know, I do… I want to apologize”, he said. “What happened… I was drunk, and a terrible fool. I cannot tell you how dreadfully embarrassed I am. You were right to strike me, I deserved nothing less, and far more”. Rosalind nodded, not knowing how to reply.

After a moment of them standing there, Geary, cleared his throat. “I should very much like to extend my apologies to your husband as well, but he was not to be found at home, or at his office”. He looked around. “Is he here with you?”. “I don’t know where he is”, Rosalind said quietly. Geary looked at her worriedly. “Are you quite alright, Mrs. Delaney? You look out of sorts”. “I’m just… It’s nothing”. He extended his arm to her. “Please, come sit on a bench. You look like you need rest”.

Without taking his arm, Rosalind followed the man to a nearby bench below a tree, and sat down next to him. “Are you sure you don’t know where Mr. Delaney is? Perhaps I could fetch him for you”, Geary said. “No, I don’t know. He is tending to business elsewhere”, Rosalind said, with an edge to her voice. “So you are all alone…”. Geary’s voice had changed, and when she looked at him, she recognized the beast who had attacked her at Musgrove’s party. Before she had a chance to cry out, something hit her over the head, and everything went black.

---

When she came too, she was in a dark room. She was wearing just her chemise and stay, an her feet were bare; and she was laying on a dirty mattress. There was a barred window at the top of one wall, and what looked like a heavy door in another. In the middle of the room was a table, and two chairs, facing each other. She could hear screams and nonsensical moans from outside the door. Fear instantly took her over, but she forced herself to focus. She got on her feet, and rubbed her arms for warmth. Who had taken her, she did not know; but whoever it was, she had done nothing wrong, and could not give them anything. They were doing this to get to James.

The door opened, and an older man with a smug expression entered the room, followed by two other men. One with the face of a concerned rat, and the other plump and looking like everything around him smelled foul. Lastly, a man in a dirty jacket and with beady eyes, slipped in behind them, and went to stand by the door. “Mrs. Delaney! I am glad we’ve finally been able to catch up to you”, the first man said. “We did have one of our agents wanting to speak with you at a chemistry exhibition you were at recently, but you must have been in a rush, because you slipped past him”. He reached out his hand. “I am sir Stuart Strange”. Bile rose in Rosalind’s throat, but she forced herself to seem indifferent.

“I should like my dress back”, she said as calmly as she could. “I’m afraid it’s been burnt; to avoid lice and vermin infestations”, Strange said matter-of-factly. “It’s procedure here at Bedlam”. “I’m in Bedlam?”, Rosalind croaked. “Yes, madam; you are. And for the long haul… Unless you cooperate”. “You don’t have the power to hold me here…”. “Money trumps power. Which happens to be one of the reasons the king hates the Company”. “Oh… Could I at least have a blanket…? For propriety and modesty”, she said. Strange laughed. “My dear, you are married to the devil Delaney. You are the furthest thing from proper”. He gestured at one of the chairs. “Have a seat”.

Shaking – partly from cold, partly from fear – Rosalind walked over to the chair, and sat down. Strange’s two minions flanked her. The man himself took the chair opposite her. “I will get right to the point. Your husband owns a piece of land on the west coast of America…”. “I am aware”, Rosalind said. Strange gave her strained smile at her interruption. “Yes… Well, as the situation would have it; this particular piece of land is of no real value, unless you know how to use it”. “As a naval trade station”. “Exactly! My, you are a clever one…”, Strange said overbearingly. “Before your husband returned from the dead, you were to inherit this land, and we had planned to buy it from you. Now, that is not an option”. “Unless you try to kill him again”. Rosalind moved a lock of hair out of her face, and kept her expression as calm as possible. “Which, as I understand is not an option, because the land will go to the Americans”. “Indeed…”, Strange said.

He gestured to the rat-like man, who placed two documents on the table. “What I have here is your future… Well, a selection of futures; and you will be free to have any one of them. It will be your choice in the end. Mr. Wilton, if you’d care to explain”. The rat-man opened one of the documents. “By law, as James Delaney’s wife, you have the power to claim him insane. All you will need, is for a doctor to sign this document; and Delaney will then be taken in to custody, and put here in Bedlam Asylum. That is what Dr. Kilroy is here for”. He gestured towards the beady eyed man at the door. “As his wife, you will then have power of attorney to handle his assets. You will then sell Nootka Sound to the honorable East India Trading Company, on behalf of your husband – for which you will be fairly paid – and you can live out your life in comfort”.

The man’s words made Rosalind shudder. “I can’t! That would be… no!”, she exclaimed. “We thought you might say that”, Strange smiled. “Mr. Pettifer?”. The plump man opened the second document. “This is a document stating your insanity”. “What?”, Rosalind gasped. “What is your evidence?”. “A Mr. Thorne Geary found you rambling about your husband, saying he was dead, when it is very clear he is alive. You were throwing yourself at him, tearing at your clothes; and wanting to let him have… carnal knowledge of you, at a recent event”. “That is a lie! He attacked me!”, she cried out. “My dear Mrs. Delaney. It is your word against his, and he is a respected gentleman; whereas you… Well, you married a murderer and a slave-trader… And, you’re a woman”. Pettifer gave her a haughty smile.

Strange leaned back in his seat. “It is very simple, Mrs. Delaney. Sign these papers, declaring your suspicion of your husband’s insanity; or I will have the doctor here sign these, declaring you insane. You will be in here Bedlam for the rest of your life”. Panic was beginning to take over, and Rosalind felt tears form in her eyes. Strange sighed deeply. “Doctor, why don’t you tell Mrs. Delaney what the procedure is for new patients here at Bedlam”. The doctor stepped forward, and pulled out a pair of scissors from his Pocket, “First, we cut of your hair, to avoid creepy crawlies. We have enough of those in the mattresses here”, he said, smiling at her with yellow teeth. “Then, it’s daily ice-baths for the first month, to expel the evil spirits from you. You will of course be naked during these baths, and I’m afraid we have no women employed here; so, you will have men taking care of said baths. They are not all trained physicians as myself, but they do their best; though they can get a bit handsy…”. He let out a raspy laugh.

Rosalind swallowed thickly, as a pen and a bottle of ink was laid in front of her. “I want to see my husband”, she whispered. “He is nowhere to be found”, Strange said. “Have you even tried looking for him?”. “No. And we won’t”. He let out an exasperated grunt. “Right. Dr. Kilroy?”.

The doctor stepped forwards, and before she knew it, Pettifer and Wilton had each grabbed one of her wrists; while Kilroy pulled the combs from her hair, and grabbed it in his fist; pressing her chest towards the table. Rosalind cried out in pain and fear, and her entire body shivered. “Please, stop…”. Strange forced the pen into the hand Wilton was holding down. “Sign the fucking document!”, he hissed. She heard the snipping of the scissors by her ear, and tears began spilling from her eyes, making the table wet against her cheek; which was pressed against it. “I want to speak with my husband. I want James!”, Rosalind whimpered. Someone bored an elbow down between her shoulder blades. “I’m not signing anything, until you let me speak to him. If you were going to admit me here, you would have done it already”.

Strange stepped back, exclaiming a frustrated growl. “Let her stew a bit. Some time in the collar should clear her mind”. Kilroy grabbed her left hand, and looked down at her ring. “We wouldn’t want this getting lost, would we?”, he said. Rosalind clenched her fist to avoid him taking it; but Kilroy pried it open, and managed to take the only thing she had on her, that still mattered. Without it, she felt truly naked. The doctor stepped back, and holding on to each of her arms, Pettifer and Wilton led her out of the room, and into a long dark hallway. Here, they were met by a large, dirty man; who grabbed her by the neck, and led her away. Dr. Kilroy followed close behind.

“She’s a pretty one, doctor”, the man holding on to her said. He slipped a fat arm around her waist, and held her against him. “You may have your fun with her soon enough”, Kilroy replied. “For now, it’s a little time in the collar”. “Too bad. She won’t be as clean after that”. Both men laughed.

Rosalind was led to a room about the size of a closet. A chain was attached to the wall, and at the end of was a collar of metal. She was forced into the room, and the large man fastened the collar around her neck.

The door was closed, and she was in complete darkness.

---

#james delaney #james delaney fic #james delaney angst #james delaney x oc #james delaney smut #tom hardy

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cryingcow · 4 years ago

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Rikiya, Kiryu, & Haruka - Rikiya’s Lonely Struggle [RGGO]

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 .

This month’s RGG Online dice event features Rikiya! I was in a Y3 mood lately so I went and did this first :D

Apparently they’re called Sugoroku events. This one is 6 chapters long, including the prologue and epilogue, so I’ll be splitting it into 3 parts. Enjoy the sight of Rikiya in the Dragon Engine now since Yakuza Kiwami 3 might not be coming for a long time :’(

This story feels like a subtle way to attract tourists to Okinawa, what with the food specialties, the lessons in Okinawan slang (that I skipped over in here), and this banner:

Just look at that winning Dad smile! Don’t you wish you were in Okinawa right now?

Click on for the Prologue, Chapter 1 + Rikiya’s Side Comments!

Rikiya’s Side Comments

During the course of rolling around the board, Rikiya comments on various stuff and people.

Rikiya’s comments on objects:

Habu (Pit Viper) – “The venom of habus isn’t that strong, but they fight without fear of what kind of opponent they’re up against. How cool is that?”

Ryukyu City – “Isn’t it such a lively city? All the people here are nice. That’s why it’s my job to protect it.”

Jewel? [in-game item] – “Is this a jewel that I thought I saw fall? Haa~, it’s color is like that of the sea. It’s a waste to sell it off.”

Great dice [in-game item] – “Hey this is amazing! The same number of eyes appear no matter how many times you shake it. Hehe, let’s trick Mikio with this.”

Rikiya’s comments on people:

Patriarch Nakahara – “He’s stubborn, old-fashioned, and strange. But when he makes up his mind to do something, he does it. That’s my boss.”

Mikio – “I want to keep them smiling. I’m going to protect this group with him, so I’m going to be firm.”

Young Lady (Saki) – “She’s not good at speaking, but well, I’m not good at studying, it’s the same thing. Everyone knows how good the young lady is.”

Kiryu-no-aniki – “To think there’s a person out there like my patriarch . . . the world really is big!”

Haruka-chan – “She’s a small but firm child. There’s a lot of things going on. I want to help you keep them away.”

Ayako – “She’s a smart girl, so I don’t have to worry about her. Do you want company in your running practice?”

Koji – “He’s bright, gentle, and he exercises. Isn’t he popular in school? That’s good . . .”

Taichi – “Jeez, just because you like professional wrestling doesn’t mean I’m a lariat! I thought I was going to die . . .”

Mitsuo – “The one who knows pain can understand the pain of others. You’re already a good man.”

Riona – “Hehe, getting along with Mitsuo? It seems that Mitsuo will be laid out on his butt in another 10 years. That hurts! Don’t hit me!”

Shiro – “A great guy who can study with me. All you need is a handful of courage. Please support Morning Glory.”

Izumi – “I really like Mame. Take care of yourself when going on walks. Don’t forget to do your homework properly~?”

Eri – “I want to say that the house looks great, but that’s an adult’s excuse. One day, you’ll realize yourself.”

----

PROLOGUE

[Morning Glory Orphanage]

Haruka: “So you’ve never tried eating it yet, Ojiisan?”

Kiryu: “Yeah. I see it in the supermarket often, but I usually just pick up a familiar fish.”

Rikiya: “Nice to see you! Aniki and Haruka-chan!”

Kiryu: “Oh, Rikiya.”

Rikiya: “What were you two talking about?”

Haruka: “Rikiya-san, have you ever eaten a fish called ‘Gurukun’?”

Rikiya: “Of course I have! Gurukun is a fish that represents Okinawa! It’s also called ‘Takasago’ in the mainland, right?”

Kiryu: “That’s correct, but it’s not that famous in the mainland. I’ve never tried it out yet.”

Rikiya: “You’re kidding?! You can’t live in Okinawa without eating gurukun! Alright, how about the three of us head to the public market right now! There’s lots of fresh fish there!”

Kiryu: “We’re going to the market now?”

Rikiya: “Yes! I’ll be your guide!”

Kiryu: “I’m sorry. Haruka and I have something to do after this . . .”

Rikiya: “Something to do . . . then I’ll go run down to the market myself and buy you that gurukun!”

Kiryu: “Would that be alright? Sorry.”

Rikiya: “We can go to the market together next time when you have the time. More than the fish, I want Aniki to experience the kindness of the people in the market.”

Kiryu: “The kindness of the people in the market?”

Rikiya: “Yeah. Do the people at the market look scary at first glance?”

Kiryu: “Apart from the shops for tourists, there certainly is a cold atmosphere at first glance. Especially towards strangers like me.”

Rikiya: “They’re just workers who are bad at meeting new people. But actually everyone is kind, be they mainland people or Okinawa people!”

Kiryu: “Is that so. In that case, I’ll be looking forward to going to the market with you as my guide.”

Rikiya: “Well then, I’m going to run now!”

----

[Public Market]

Fish Seller A: “Hey, welcome~!”

Rikiya: “Hey!”

Fish Seller A: “Oh, Rikiya. What is it?”

Rikiya: “Do you have gurukun? I want a very fresh one.”

Fish Seller A: “Oh, we have just the right one! But it’s unusual for you to be cooking.”

Rikiya: “It’s not for me. I want to feed everyone at Morning Glory.”

Fish Seller A: “Morning Glory . . . ?”

Rikiya: “It’s an orphanage by the beach. My Aniki Kiryu-san is the caretaker.”

Fish Seller A: “Kiryu . . .”

Rikiya: “Give me all that gurukun you have. How much will it be?”

Fish Seller A: “Oh, uh, I just remembered that these gurukun have been reserved for another customer! Go hit up the other stalls!”

Rikiya: “What . . . Jeez. Whatever, I’ll try another store!”

----

Rikiya: “Oh! How are you doing?”

Fish Seller B: “Oh, Riki-chan.”

Rikiya: “Oh, you have gurukun. It’s not reserved for anyone, is it?”

Fish Seller B: “Yeah, they’re all for sale.”

Rikiya: “Alright! Now I can feed Kiryu-no-aniki!”

Fish Seller B: “Kiryu-no-aniki . . . ?!”

Rikiya: “Oh, do you know him? Kiryu Kazuma. He’s my Aniki!”

Fish Seller B: “Go home!”

Rikiya: “Eh?”

Fish Seller B: “The store is closed today! Go away!”

Rikiya: “Wh-What the hell . . . ?! Just like with the previous store, his attitude completely changed when I mentioned Kiryu-no-aniki’s name . . . ??”

Woman Passing By: “Just now, did you just say Kiryu . . . ?”

Rikiya: “Yeah. Do you know him Ma’am?”

Woman Passing By: “I overheard from someone in the market . . . that Kiryu Kazuma is trying to take over the place . . .”

Rikiya: “Aniki taking over the market?? What does that even mean??”

Woman Passing By: “I don’t know all the details, but that’s the rumor everyone’s been gossiping about. Look . . .”

{The woman points at two vendors talking.}

Meat Vendor: “Isn’t the Ryudo Family the enforcers of the market? Even if Kiryu attacks, the Ryudo Family will protect us, right?”

Greengrocer: “Idiot, the Ryudo Family can’t beat Kiryu. There’s a Tsukiji Market in Tokyo, and rumor has it Kiryu took over Tsukiji overnight.”

Meat Vendor: “Really! Then a small market like ours . . .”

Greengrocer: “Yeah, we’ll be taken over in one hour, tops. By Kiryu alone.”

Meat Vendor: “If that happens, I’ll stab Kiryu! When I see him next time, I’ll use this butcher knife, no questions asked . . . !”

Greengrocer: “Lay off. The guy who opposed Kiryu at Tsukiji was rumored to have been sold as cheap minced meat.”

Meat Vendor: “What a horrible bastard . . . ! The mainlanders are truly dreadful!”

Woman Passing By: “For the past week, the market’s been plagued by this rumor.”

Rikiya: “My Aniki taking over the public market?? Who’s been spreading these rumors?!”

Woman Passing By: “Well, there’s no smoke without fire.”

Rikiya: “Eh? What do you mean?”

Woman Passing By: “No, it’s nothing. Please excuse me . . .”

Rikiya: “What? That woman . . . ?”

{Rikiya’s phone rings. He answers.}

Rikiya: “Ah, Aniki! What is it?”

Kiryu: “My errand with Haruka ended earlier than expected. I’m heading to the market right now.”

Rikiya: “Ah, no, no! Don’t come here Aniki!”

Kiryu: “Why?”

Rikiya: “Well, the . . . the gurukan is sold out!”

Kiryu: “Is that so. Well we can walk around the market. I want to see this kindness of the people with you as my guide.”

Rikiya: “Sorry! I’ve left the market, I’m on my way back home to Morning Glory! Let’s just go to the market together some other day!”

Kiryu: “I see. I guess we’ll save the fun for next time . . . be careful in going home.”

{Kiryu hangs up.}

Rikiya: “My bad! This is dangerous . . . Aniki, looking forward to interacting with the people in the market . . . I was the one who made him expect it in the first place . . . I can’t say ‘the market is full of bad rumors about Aniki’. What do I do . . . ? Can I convince the people otherwise one by one? That’ll take a long time . . . But why did weird rumors pop up? I guess because my Aniki is a mainlander . . .”

Rikiya: “For the time being, I should head back to Morning Glory. My Aniki will be suspicious if I’m late . . .”

-END-

CHAPTER 1

[Morning Glory Orphanage]

Rikiya: (In the end, a week passed without me taking any measures against the rumors about Aniki spreading through the market . . . Well, it’s better to wait for the rumors to disappear on their own than panic. As the saying goes, ‘people’s rumors last 75 days’ . . . Hm? How many months is 75 days? That’s long . . .)

Haruka: “Rikiya-san, it’s a shame the gurukan was sold out last time.”

Rikiya: “Well, that’s how delicious the fish is!”

Haruka: “I’m looking forward to the day I can eat it! Now more than ever I’m interested in Okinawan food. Rikiya-san, do you know Soki?”

Rikiya: “Of course. It’s an Okinawan specialty made of stewed pork and bones. It’s delicious!”

Haruka: “The soki that Ojiisan ate a year ago was very delicious. I was going to buy Ojiisan’s soki today, but I wanted to go with you.”

Rikiya: “Oh, that’s good. Where’s this store? I want to know what soki Aniki is beating his drum for.”

Kiryu: “It’s in the market.”

Rikiya: “Ah, Aniki. I understand. It’s in the . . .”

Rikiya: “Th-The market?!”

Kiryu: “It would be nice to explore the market under your guidance. Interacting with the people in the market . . .”

Rikiya: “N-No! Two people shouldn’t go to the market together!”

Kiryu: “Why?”

Rikiya: “Why . . . that’s . . . ! It’s really hot out today! If a person from the mainland goes outside on a day like this, they’d get a heatstroke in seconds! So I’ll be the one to buy soki for the two of you, just wait! Hey Haruka-chan, lend me that shopping bag!”

{Rikiya takes the shopping bag out of Haruka’s hands and runs off.}

Kiryu: “What a strange guy . . .”

----

[Public Market]

Rikiya: “This is bad. It’s only a matter of time before Aniki and Haruka-chan come to the market . . . For now, let’s listen in to the conversations of the people of the market to see the current state of the rumors.”

{Rikiya casually eavesdrops on everyone.}

Rikiya: “Unexpectedly, the rumors seem to have died down . . .”

Greengrocer: “The story that Kiryu is taking over the market alone was just that. Apparently it wasn’t a real story.”

Meat Vendor: “That’s true. If you think about it with a calm head, it’s impossible, taking over the market alone.”

Greengrocer: “Right. Apparently Kiryu is taking over markets with his friends.”

Meat Vendor: “With friends . . . ?! Who?”

Greengrocer: “The young captain of the Ryudo Family . . . Rikiya.”

Meat Vendor: “Ah! Yeah, that guy’s always hanging out with Kiryu these days!”

Greengrocer: “Right? Rikiya’s been completely brainwashed by Kiryu.”

Meat Vendor: “Then that means Kiryu and Rikiya will strike soon?!”

Greengrocer: “Yeah, no mistake . . .”

Rikiya: “Oi! Knock it off!”

Greengrocer: “Ri-Rikiya! Are you making your attack already?!”

Rikiya: “You idiots. Aniki brainwashing me? Taking over the market? He’ll never do that! It’s all a hoax!”

Greengrocer: “But before, you loved Okinawa more than anyone else, and would never even think about wagging your tail for a mainlander! And calling Kiryu your aniki, that’s clearly brainwashing!”

Rikiya: “You’re wrong! I just fell in love with my Aniki’s honourable spirit! Kiryu-no-aniki is a real man among men!”

Greengrocer: “Look, Rikiya’s eyes . . . ! They’re the same as the eyes of my cousin who got pulled into a new religion!”

Meat Vendor: “This guy’s already been brainwashed . . . ! He’s going to attack with Kiryu soon!”

Greengrocer: “I’ll be out of business, and Kiryu will suck on my bones!”

Rikiya: “Don’t be scared, you guys. I know Kiryu-no-aniki has a fearsome appearance . . . “

Meat Vendor: “Hey! Look over there!”

Greengrocer: “Ki-Ki-Kiryu . . .”

Haruka: “The market is really lively, Ojiisan.”

Kiryu: “Yeah . . .”

Haruka: “But is it really that good?”

Kiryu: “You should look forward to it. You can even suck on all the bones . . .”

Rikiya: “Wait, Aniki! What are you doing here!”

Kiryu: “Because you came here all alone . . .”

{People are screaming around the market.}

Meat Vendor: “Hurry up and run away everyone! Or you’ll be killed!”

Haruka: “What’s going on? Why is everyone in the market running away somewhere?”

Kiryu: “Did something happen?”

Rikiya: “This is, uh . . . a disaster drill!”

Kiryu: “Disaster prevention training?”

Rikiya: “Yes. Practicing to avoid getting killed by disaster . . . that’s why you can’t shop today!”

Kiryu: “Well, that’s a shame. I wanted to eat the ‘cartilage soki’ I had eaten here before.”

Rikiya: “Cartilage soki . . .”

Kiryu: “It was stewed so well, you can even eat the bones. It was excellent.”

Rikiya: “Then when the drill is over, I’ll buy some and bring it home, so please go now Aniki.”

Kiryu: “Oh. I don’t want to get in the way of the drill. Let’s go home, Haruka.”

Haruka: “Yup. See you, Rikiya-san.”

{Kiryu and Haruka leaves.}

Rikiya: “Phew . . . that was dangerous . . .”

Greengrocer: “What? Is that bastard Kiryu leaving? Did he just come here for reconnaissance, only to come back at a later date . . .”

Rikiya: “So, now you know it’s a hoax.”

Greengrocer: “No, I heard it! Kiryu said he came to the market to ‘suck all the bones’!”

Rikiya: “No, Aniki was talking about soki . . .”

Greengrocer: “Don’t tell such a transparent lie!”

Hooligan A: “Oi, you, where’s Kiryu?”

Rikiya: “What? These bastards . . .”

Hooligan B: “We’re bouncers. We were hired to protect this market from Kiryu.”

Rikiya: “Hired by who?”

Hooligan A: “I don’t think that has anything to do with you. Is Kiryu coming or not? Where is he?”

Greengrocer: “He just left the market.”

Hooligan A: “Alright, I’ll chase after him!”

Rikiya: “Wait, my Aniki isn’t taking over the market!”

Hooligan A: “Hey I remember, you’re Rikiya, the one who’s been brainwashed by Kiryu! I don’t believe a word you’re saying! Get out of here!”

Rikiya: “If you’re really going to chase after Aniki, you can do so only if you beat me.”

Hooligan B: “Hmph, this kid is crazy! But this is Kiryu’s friend! Do it!”

{Rikiya kicks the crap out of the hooligans.}

Rikiya: “Tell me before I hit you again, where and when were you hired as bouncers?”

Hooligan A: “The market’s . . . Youth Club . . .”

Rikiya: “Youth Club?”

Greengrocer: “It’s a union of young people working together in the market. Although they’re rough, they’re more enthusiastic about the market than anyone.”

Meat Vendor: “Yes, yes. The Youth Club members knew about Kiryu’s invasion before anyone else.”

Rikiya: “Wait, so the source of the rumor is that Youth Club?”

Meat Vendor: “Well, I don’t remember much, but I don’t think the Youth Club started it . . .”

Rikiya: (If the Youth Club is spreading rumors, what for . . . ? Do I want to get in now and find the truth? No. First I have to buy cartilage soki for my Aniki and go home. If I linger too much, he’ll come back to the market again . . .)

-END-

As an addition:

Look at the new Kiryu card, living his best life in Okinawa with his orphans T^T

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 Masterlist

#vendor: 'you've been brainwashed by Kiryu!'#Rikiya: 'No! I'm just kinda gay for him that's all!'#rgg online #rggo lore #rggo #Rgg #ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #rikiya shimabukuro #kazuma kiryu #kiryu kazuma #haruka sawamura

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imjustalonesomewriter · 4 years ago

Text

A Future Mistake - Chapter Two

Woo! I typed up chapter two (I originally wrote it in a notebook) already! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter (LINK)!

Word Count: 2,838

Chapter Two

Abby awoke with a start. The carriage had lurched forward, nearly toppling Abby off her seat.

“Are we here?” Mrs. Strinbrall asked. Abby sat up and brushed the blonde hair away from her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Abby said as she stretched.

“We have arrived,” Mr. Strinbrall exclaimed as he pushed open the carriage doors, “Grab your belongings and follow me, ladies.”

Abby climbed out of the carriage after her father and grabbed her bags. Mrs. Strinbrall followed suit and the family was soon inside the station.

It was unusually busy for a cold April afternoon. The Strinbralls waded their way through the crowd and stopped at a lamppost. Mr. Strinbrall started rummaging through his pockets. After a few moments, he pulled out some dollar bills.

“How much are the tickets, dear?” Mrs. Strinbrall asked.

“75 cents,” Abby’s mother replied, “If I’m not mistaken, those prices have risen.” “The price must meet the demand,” Abby said. “And there seems to be many buyers.” “Very good, Abigail. I’ve taught you well.” Mr. Strinbrall counted his money, “Abby, you stay near this pole while your mother and I purchase the tickets.” Mrs. Strinbrall agreed and picked her things up again, “I love you, darling. We’ll come back for you at noon.” Abigail smiled, “I love you too, mother.” Mr. and Mrs. Strinbrall left Abby to purchase the tickets. Abby watched them until her father’s hat disappeared into the crowd. Abigail looked up at the large clock in the middle of the station. 11:20 am.

Abby sat down on a bench and waited. And waited. And waited. When the clock struck 11:50, Abby stood and surveyed the area. Mr. and Mrs. Strinbrall were nowhere to be seen. Abby just sat back down and people-watched.

Unbeknownst to Abigail, a man sat down on the other side of the bench. His clothing was unusual and his shoes were no different. People stared at this unusual man, but Abby thought they were looking at her and simply brushed it off.

Finally, the clock struck 12:05pm. Abby looked up at it in shock, then back at the train. People were boarding. Abby jumped up and ran (as best as she could with her large dress) towards the train.

Walking alongside it, she looked into each window for her parents. After reaching the end of the train, Abby began to search for a second time. She began to worry, and speed-walked next to the train, calling out “Mr. and Mrs. Strinbrall!”

As Abby neared the lamppost she had sat near, the train let out a puff and started moving. Abby whipped around to see the train heading out of the station.

“Abigail!” she heard a voice yell. Abby looked to the last train car and gasped. There was her mother and father, leaning out one of the windows, shouting her name.

“Mother! Father!” she yelled, running as close to the train as she could, “Why did you board without me?!” “We were rushed on board! We did not have anytime to get you!” Mr. Strinbrall explained.

Abby hesitated before speaking. They were nearly as far as she could go, “What should I do?!” “Buy a ticket for the train tomo-” Mr. Strinbrall was cut off by the train exiting the station.

Abigail just stood there, defeated, watching the train disappear into the distance. What was she to do? She did not have enough money to stay somewhere and buy the ticket, only one.

Abby slowly turned around and made her way back to the bench. The strange man was still there, but this time Abby noticed him. She still chose to ignore the young man, though, and sat down and began thinking. She had a dollar in coins. One single dollar. That could hopefully last her a day, even if the ticket cost 75 cents.

The mysterious man leaned forward and stared at Abby, making her wildly uncomfortable. “Can I help you, sir?” She said, still refusing to look at him.

The man shook his head as if waking from a trance, “What’d you say?” “I asked if I could help you,” Abby repeated.

“Uh, yeah, sure. Do you know where this train will be coming in?” The man showed Abby his ticket.

“Well, sir, it would be coming through over there,” Abby pointed to the empty track, “But this is a fake ticket.” “No, it isn’t.” “Yes, it is, sir,” Abby said,” If it was real, I would be taking it.” “Are you not from here, too?” The man asked. His eyes seemed to light up and a grin grew on his pale face.

“I’m from New York,” Abby explained, “but I missed the train back.”

“Oh,” the man looked disappointed, “What’s your name again?” “I don’t recall telling you in the first place, but my name is Abigail. Abigail Strinbrall.” “I’m Martin Flinnbaker,” The man said, then smiled, “Would you like to walk with me?” Abby hesitated for a moment, but then replied, “Yes, sir. Where to?” To her, Martin may have been a bit weird, but overall he seemed pleasant and kind. It didn’t occur to her that she didn’t know this man, but something about Martin made her feel like she had known him forever, and that she trusted him completely.

“To my train, of course,” Martin stood and held out his hand towards Abby.

“Mr. Flinnbaker, I already told you, that ticket is a fake,” Abigail said, “But, I will walk with you.” Abby took Martin’s hand and stood up. Martin took her bag and carried it under his arm as they walked.

“Where are you from, Mr. Flinnbaker?” Abby asked.

“Why do you ask?” Martin replied.

“You seemed to be eager to learn where I was from, so it’s only fair I know yours.”

“I’m from California, out west,” Martin said.

“I’ve never met someone from the West. I’ve only read articles about them.” “The articles?” “The newspaper articles from when it became a state, around five years ago.”

“Oh, those articles. I should’ve remembered that,” Martin nodded his head as he talked, “How come you are heading to New York?” “I live there with my parents.” “Why’d you leave?” Martin asked as they rounded a corner.

“We visited mother’s sister and husband. They live on this large plantation,” Abigail explained, “It is pretty, but I prefer my house.” “How come?” “My garden is much better than the Sherman’s. It’s my pride and joy, so I take good care of it.” Martin inquired more about her garden, so Abby started describing it.

She described the hedges and how they were perfectly trimmed, how the flowers were arranged, and the pond and it’s perfect little lily pads.

“The farm sounds much better to me.” Abby was offended. No one had told her her garden was worse than a farm, “Excuse me? I would like to think my garden is at least a tad better than a farm.” “Maybe it is in your head. I think plantations are much better. They feel so secluded and peaceful.” “My garden is al-” Just as Abby started to talk, they reached the train tracks, “See, as I told you, there’s no train.”

“It’s late,” Martin looked at his watch. Abby had never seen one like it, “Give it a moment.” Abby rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Flinnbaker, if there was a 12:30 train, I would be taking it.” “Then why don’t you?” Martin asked. He reached into his pocket and revealed a second train ticket. Abby paused, but eventually took the ticket. What harm could it do? “Thank you, Mr. Flinnbaker.” “Please, just call me Martin,” Abby nodded while Martin took off his hat, put it under his arm, and set down her bag, “Had you ever been to your aunt and uncle’s before?” “Yes, once a year since my brother was born.” “How old were you?” Martin asked.

“Young.” “But you are young.” “Sir, I-” “Martin.” “Martin, I am nearly 20, I wouldn’t call that young.” “You’re young to me. I’m nearly 39,” Martin chuckled.

“You don’t look a day over 20, Mr. Flinnbaker!” Martin laughed again, “It is both a blessing and a curse.” “I wouldn’t think so,” Abby said.

“People don’t take me seriously. They see a young-looking scientist and nearly always think I’m new to the field.”

A scientist! How exciting! Abby thought, but she had no time to express her admiration before the sound of a train caught her attention. Sure enough, when she turned to her right, she saw a train entering the station.

“I told you,” Martin said smugly as the train slowed to a stop. Abby was too busy looking at the station schedule to reply. There was no 12:30 train to New York. She was sure of it.

“Tha- that’s not possible!” Abby exclaimed.

“And why isn’t it?” Martin asked. “It’s not on the schedule! It shouldn’t be here!” “Well, it is here, and we might as well take it,” Martin stepped up onto the train and turned around to hold out his hand, “Are you coming, Abigail?” Abby hesitated, “How do I know for sure this train is going home?”

“The tickets,” Martin held up his ticket in one hand and kept holding out the other, “Please tell me you are coming. I enjoy your company.”

“Martin, I’m flattered, but-” “But what? You’re scared? Would you rather wait until tomorrow evening to get home or right now?” “Right now.”

“Then come on! The train can’t wait forever!” Abby reluctantly grabbed Martin’s hand and pulled herself up. Martin picked up Abby’s bag and they made their way down the aisle to Martin’s desired seat. Martin sat down first and motioned for her to sit next to him, but she sat across from him. Martin seemed annoyed and set her bag down next to him.

A few other passengers piled into the train, but they all seemed… off. Abby noticed that they all seemed to be glowing. Now, not like good-looking “glowing,” but actually emitting light from themselves. Abby voiced her concerns to Martin, but he brushed them off.

“Sounds like it’s just your imagination,” he said, “I don’t see anything.” Abby just nodded and looked at the passengers two rows away from them. He was glowing, but there was not sun shining on him to do that.

“But look at that man several rows back. Is he not glowing?” Abby asked. Martin turned around and looked at the man, “He is not, Abby.” Abby quickly turned back to the man. How was it possible? He had stopped glowing. To Abby’s dismay, as she looked around, no one was glowing anymore. Abby rubbed her eyes, but they still were not glowing.

As the train started to move, Abby turned to Martin and asked, “Wherever did you get these tickets?” “A close friend of mine sent them to me, so I could visit him. His wife has fallen ill.” “That’s too bad. Is it smallpox?” “No, she has already had that. I believe it is cholera.” “I think my niece was infected by that once. My brother said she suffered greatly.” “As with Andrew’s wife. He wrote to me describing her pain. It sounds horrible. Andrew needed help around his estate, so he sent for me.” “Why didn’t he call for someone closer to him?” “I do believe I may be one of Andrew’s only friends. Which is sad, because he is a nice man, but he doesn’t social-” “Tickets, please,” A man standing in the aisle said. Abigail and Martin handed him their tickets.

“As I was saying, he never goes out of his was to socialize,” Martin continued, “His wife does all the talking.” “He sounds like my mother. She never talks unless spoken to.” “Really? Usually, women are the social ones, not the men.” “Men and women both should be social. What good is a person with no friends?” When Martin didn’t reply, Abby continued, “They are certainly no good. Even the lowest of the low need to make themselves known.” “And who are the lowest of the low?” “The poor, unmarried mothers,” Abby began listing off categories of people when Martin interrupted her.

“Slaves?” “No, I don’t think so.” “Really? Why not?” Martin leaned back in his chair.

“Why do you care?” “No reason,” when Abby continued to stare at him, he spoke again, “I don’t support slavery either, I just want to know why slaves are not the lowest of the low.”

“They’re people too. They have decent beliefs, families, everything a Caucasian person can possess.” Abby explained.

“Not everything,” Martin said, “Not land.” All Abby did was nod. She hated talking about slaves, mostly because of her opinion on them. She hadn’t met anyone besides Lily who she could talk to about the subject, and even Lily had a different opinion on it.

After some brief silence, Martin spoke, “Do you have any plans for when you get back?” “Some family friends are coming to dine with us. The Thims are coming all the way from Maryland to see mother, and I can only assume Mr. Frederick is only dining with us for me. You see, my friend Katherine is hoping to marry him, but I think he…” Martin listened attentively as Abby talked about her affairs until his watch struck 1pm. He looked at the other passengers. They were starting to glow again as the train sped up. It had to be going at least 90mph, but it wasn’t enough. It had to be going at least 110mph, and they were running out of time.

Martin stood up and faced Abby, “Excuse me, but I think I just saw a friend onf mine in the other car.” Abby barely had time to say “OK” before Martin rushed down the aisle. He walked through the next passenger car, through the fake coal car, and finally into the fron engine.

It was empty, as Martin had planned, so he had no problem taking over the controls. With the press of a button, Martin opened up the train’s electronic control panel and started fiddling with the settings. Somehow, he had to override his own creation and go 20mph faster, or else he would never make it back to 2019.

Meanwhile, Abby was sitting down, staring out the window. Despite the abnormal speed the train was going, she didn’t notice anything wrong until she made eye contact with the same man from before. “I knew it!” Abby exclaimed when she saw the man’s glow. Her first thought was to tell Martin, which she did.

Abby rose and patted her dress down before making her way to the other train car. To her shock and somewhat horror, it was empty.

“Martin!” Abby called out as she searched, “Mr. Flinnbaker!” Of course, Martin was nowhere in the passenger, and Abby had no success in finding him. She sat down and pondered what to do about Martin missing, until she noticed the door to the coal car open.

That must be where he went, she thought to herself. She stood and walked over to the coal car. She quickly noticed it was empty, and thinking it best to return to her seat and hope Martin was alright, she turned around and went back to her train car.

Martin, on the other hand, had finally managed to increase the train’s speed. As the train sped up to 110mph, Martin sat down and strapped himself into a chair. This would be a bumpy ride.

Martin reached for the microphone connected to the speaker system he had put in the train, “Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen, this is your…”

“...conductor speaking. As we're nearing our final destination, and final speed for that matter, I do recommend you fasten your seatbelts and hold on to something.” Abby looked around, trying to find where Martin was. She had heard his voice, but he was nowhere to be seen. Abby pinched herself, to see if she was dreaming, but she did not wake up.

Abby panicked. Where was Martin’s voice coming from? Why did he say “final speed”? Where was he? Suddenly, two pieces of fabric and metal clamped around her waist. She tugged at the “seatbelt” to no avail and eventually followed Martin’s voice’s instructions to hold something.

Abigail looked out the window. The train was going at an incredible speed. She had never gone this fast before and she was definitely scared. Abby started to hyperventilate and sweat. The top of the hill was growing closer, and the train kept gaining speed, and the other passengers kept glowing more and more until it all stopped.

For a quick ten seconds, everything, including Martin and Abigail, was frozen. Abby tried to scream, but she couldn’t open her mouth. Nothing inside or outside were moving. The birds were stuck mid-flight, the leaves were no longer swaying in the wind, and a passenger’s dog’s tail was no longer wagging.

And just as fast as everything had stopped, there was a large blue flash, and everything went black.

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donkey-hyuck · 4 years ago

Text

Leader Taeyong request!!🥺💞

25+32+75: “What the hell were you thinking?!” , “Why are you doing this?” , “What did you expect?” Member: Taeyong, ceo! Au

Here’s the link to the prompt list!

⚠️this includes suicidal thoughts/attempts and depression!! PLEASE DON’T READ THIS if you get triggered, thank you⚠️

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Taeyong was the I.T. fashion ceo. He owned multiple brands, but his biggest brand was ‘The Lee’s Express’ stores found all over Southeast Asia. And he was undeniably gorgeous, no wonder he was such a powerful fashion ceo. With a sharp nose and chin, and a jaw chiseled by the gods, he was worshipped by people across the globe. He was young, only twenty five, but he was to get engaged.

You and Taeyong had met when he was still in college. Through mutual friends, you two immediately clicked and became close since then. He was engaged to you and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loved you more than life itself, only you wished your life was never brought upon this world.

Taeyong knew, of course. Over the years he’d known you, he’s seen the severe pain, and only wished you the best, but it had yet to come. You were diagnosed with depression in middle school, dealing with your parents divorce, and handling your alcoholic and drug addict mother, you’d learned about the responsibilities very early in life, taking care of your mother more than yourself. You didn’t hate your mother, though she always brought you down, but she was there, and you didn’t have the heart to leave her. Your life was immensely difficult.

You were struggling your jobs, academics, and your mother. When you met Taeyong, he was there to help you, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Along the way, you stumbled upon some unknown feelings toward the male and you were unsure if he felt the same way. Lucky for you, he shared the same feelings and your relationship became quite public. He was a new ceo at the time, and he was the top buzz of Asia for quite some time. Coming with the fame and recognition, came hatred and jealousy. Mostly directed toward you, Taeyong’s most prized person.

You and his sister had been out, shopping and bonding even closer. You were thankful of the family. In fact, they were one of the only people that made you feel like you actually had one. His sister was in the fitting room, trying on some clothes for her brothers three year company anniversary party. You already had something picked out, while she practically begged you to come with her to multiple boutiques. While sitting on the couch, and scrolling through your phone, two pair of legs stood before you. Some workers, which you immediately recognized, from Taeyong’s company. “I don’t know what he sees in her. She’s just a lazy bitch, look at her.” And all at once the overwhelming feeling cascaded over you. They grabbed you by your hair, “Don’t act all high and mighty, you’re not capable of being with Mr. Lee.” You knew you weren’t, but Taeyong always made sure you were treated like a porcelain doll. And all of a sudden, your breath had gotten shorter and tears faded down your cheek. You stormed out of the store. Just in time for his sister to see, they went through your bag. And Taeyong’s sister slapped each of them on their cheeks, her wedding ring cutting them in the process. “Taeyong is my brother, they are to be wedded soon. There is no way you’re treating her like that. Get out of my face before your Mr. Lee gets disappointed, again.” Shocked, the pair of girls look at the beautiful young woman. “Go! Go! It really is Mr. Lee’s sister!” , “Pathetic.”

You ran outside and walked down the street, trying to calm yourself down. And you found yourself sitting at come cafe not far from where the boutique was. “Y/N?” You recognized that voice in an instant and looked up. It was Seulgi RV DHSJDJ sorry lol, an old friend of yours. “Hey, hey. What happened to you?” , “Y/N!” It was Taeyong’s sister, running into the cafe with her hands full of your things that you left at the boutique. “I’ll see you around Y/N,” said Seulgi as she patted your back and his sister gave her a glare.

“Sorry for leaving. I hadn’t had a panic attack in years. And what they said really bothered me, I guess.” , “Oh gosh! Don’t apologize, beautiful! I totally get why you left. But don’t worry, I’m here to protect you. What did you expect? Me to just leave you? I could never oh my gosh!”

It was later that evening, and she brought you to her house to comfort you, informing Taeyong what had happened. “Where is she?!” Said he, pushing past the doors and running directly toward you. “I’m okay Yong. Your sister helped me.” , “I’m sorry angel. I should have been more careful with our relationship. You have been suffering all these years and yet you continue to stay with me.”

But everything only went downhill after this.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

It was the night of the anniversary party. Taeyong had asked you to get your hair, makeup, and outfit done in his office. Claiming that he felt less nervous when you were there. The stylists came and sat you in a chair across the mirror in the bathroom. The hair and makeup was quite simple.

Your hair curled in a half bun updo with two braids located on each side of your head, meeting in the bun. Makeup was very glowy and natural, little brown shades in the crease of your eyes as a light pink shimmer covered your lids. Your dress was a beige princess gown style silk dress. It was a bit tighter around your chest and torso but flared out and had a small train as the dress reached the floor. There was also a small slit on the right side of the dress, exposing your right leg a bit more.

Taeyong had planned the party to start at around 7 P.M. and he and his fiancé— you— were to meet the guests at around 7:30. And when the two of you entered the room, cheering and whistles filled the entirety of it.

“Firstly, I would like to thank everyone who was able to make it here tonight! I’m so glad my business is lifting off and that my team and I could make it this far. Secondly, I would like to thank my soon-to-be wife for standing with me through it all. We’ve gone through so much together and she practically helped me with ideas when I first started out. Thank you and please enjoy the rest of the night!” Cheers again.

It had been about an hour into the party and you’ve lost sight of Taeyong at this point. It was fine with you, considering this was his party. You’d been talking with Jaehyun, a good friend of yours, and he actually helped set you and Taeyong up. “Hey Y/N! Have you seen Seulgi? I’ve been looking for her for a while now and I can’t find her.” You shake your head no and look for Taeyong, just to ask around. And soon, you realized you’d been trying to locate him for ten minutes before giving up and talking to some of the guests and employees.

9 P.M. sharp. You distinctly remember this. Walking up to the office to rest your head from the communicating and loudness in the room. Until you heard Taeyong and Seulgi’s voice. “What will make you believe me? You’ve been with her for so long. Can’t you see that she’s using you? Or are you too in love with her?” Lies. It was all lies, what she told Taeyong. You were friends, yes, but you were aware of her little crush on Taeyong years ago. She was jealous at the time, and obviously she was still jealous, even now.

Disturbed was the word. After a few moments of contemplation, you entered the quiet room to be met with their bodies close together. The whole scene before you, there were no words to utter.

You ran and ran. Past the guests, and past the double doors of the company. Unfortunately, it was terribly cold that night. But you didn’t have any thoughts beside the horrific moment that you had just witnessed.

It felt like hours before you stopped running. It was somewhere around the park. The park you escaped to before your parents divorce. The place where you felt a place of security. And now, it’s a place where you were to be gone. Slowly stripping out of the dress, you shiver and your lips and neck turn purple, while the goosebumps on your body try to keep you warm. Stepping into the freezing lake, your head is dipped in the water and you fight off the need to breathe. Then everything turned black.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

The blaring beeping of the machine wakes you up. You were still shivering when you were conscious enough to wake up. “It’s cold,” you chattered your teeth and Taeyong immediately ran when he heard your voice. “What the hell were you thinking?! Angel, please listen to me, I know what you saw earlier but it was all misunderstanding.” , “Where’s your sister?”

His sister had ushered him out of the room. Completely take aback and disappointed about what you had told her. “Let’s get you some rest and warmth. When the doctors told us you had hypothermia, I went to by a heater and hot packs. Use them, please. I know you don’t want to be here anymore. But believe me, I want you here. And no matter what you saw, I know Taeyong still loves you, and I know he wants you here.” She hugged you before leaving the hospital.

“I’m sorry. Visiting hours will be open in seven hours. You can see her then,” said the nurse to Taeyong. “But I’m her husband. I should be in there!” , “I’m sorry Mr. Lee, but we had already disobeyed the hospital rules for you and your sister. You have to go home, you can see her in the morning.” Giving up, Taeyong walked out to meet his sister in the car.

“What did you do? You must’ve done something considering what she just went through. How could you let her suffer like that? Do you realize that she had been suffering so much these past weeks.” His sister talked in such a disappointing tone as they drove to his house. “It was truly a misunderstanding. From her angle it looked like I was kissing Seulgi. But I swear I wasn’t. I love Y/N with all my heart. I could and would never do that to her. She’s the love of my life.”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

You’d been discharged from the hospital three days after. Barely speaking a word to Taeyong, but laughing whenever his sister joked around. This made his heart hurt and wanted to prove so much to you that he and Seulgi weren’t doing anything— because he truly loved you.

At this point, you’d been ignoring Taeyong in the house, well, whenever he was home. He was beyond shocked when you moved your things to a guest room far from your shared master bedroom. It took him two days to find out you had moved rooms. Clearly, you didn’t want to interact with him. At all. But he didn’t want to give up so easily. You didn’t even want to sign divorce papers, which made him think he still had hope.

The day before, Taeyong’s sister had called you that it was all a false alarm. And that Taeyong and Ssulgi did nothing. However, you were stubborn and refused to believe it.

One night, Taeyong had come home early and cooked you food. When delivering it to you, the door was slightly opened and he could see you dancing to some Bruno Mars song. Quietly laughing, he placed the plate of food on the floor before placing the note next to it, knocking on your door, and hiding behind the nearest wall. “Please eat. I don’t know if you already ate but I want you to fill your stomach. At least a little bit. I love you- Taeyong.” Scoffing, you shut the door. He gulped when he heard the lock to the door. Looking back, everything was back to where he left it.

Sighing, he took the plate and gloomily walked toward the kitchen. There was a knock coming from the inside of your room and a note was slid under your door. “I already ate.” The response was meaningless and short, making Taeyong sigh again.

“Angel.... you don’t have to open the door. I just want you to know what happened that day. My sister probably told you already. But it’s all true. You know I wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt you, especially cheat on you. That’s such an inhumane thing to do, especially to you. But may I ask you.... why are you doing this? It hurts me that you’re not talking to me. It hurts me that you’re avoiding me.... please, just talk to me.”

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daisylincs · 4 years ago

Note

30, 48 + 75 for Staticquake

30 = Holiday AU, 48 = Fake Dating and 75 = Bed Sharing.

Well wow, this ask combines some of my favourite tropes ever! So I guess it's really not all that surprising that it got totally out of control, and instead of the nice, moderately long fic plan I had planned, I have an absolute beast of a bullet-point fic for you.

I’m not even kidding - this baby was eleven pages long in Microsoft Word. Eleven pages of pure fluff and smiles and fake-dating shenanigans under the Grecian sun.

Now, I would say sorry for letting it get so out of control, but I'm afraid I enjoyed myself far too much! #sorrynotsorry. Here's to stories that write themselves!

Daisy works as the chief programmer for Shield Incorporated - works so hard, in her friends' opinion, that she'll pass out on her desk before admitting she needs a break. (Daisy would argue, but… it's probably true.)

So when their boss, Coulson, announces that the company will be sponsoring a trip to Santorini, her friends are all over her that she HAS to go.

"Come on, Dais," everyone from Jemma to Mack cajoles. "Your next project can wait a week, and besides, this is the chance of a lifetime. You'll regret it if you don't go."

"Guys, thanks for caring, but I'd really rather finish this -" she tells her assembled friends, but trails off as she notices Ward making his way across the room to them, clipboard in hand and sneer firmly in place on his face.

Her friends’ mood instantly changes from oh-let’s-tease-Daisy to let’s-all-stand-in-front-of-Daisy-scowling. It gives Daisy a little warm glow to see that she has so many people who care about her, and are literally willing to jump into a fight for her, if the fierce look on Bobbi’s face is any indication.

In fact, if the air of hostility around them was any more obvious, Ward would literally drop down dead of it. But, somehow, he still manages to be oblivious.

“I’m here to write up who’ll be going to Santorini with us,” he says, smiling around the group.

Bobbi raises her hand, and Daisy has never seen the simple act look so threatening before. May, she thinks, would be proud.

In stony silence, the rest of the group raise their hands, too, and Ward shifts just a little uncomfortably as he notes it down.

He turns to Daisy, looking her up and down slowly, and she’s already itching to slap him. “Of course, Daisy won’t be going,” he says, as though it’s obvious.

Now, Daisy really had been planning on saying no - right until he said that, at least.

“Actually, Grant,” she says, emphasizing his first name because she knows he hates it (she did pick up a few things, at least, before she found the cheating bastard in bed with another woman.) “I am going on the trip.”

She pretends not to notice how her friends are exchanging gleeful glances, keeping her attention focused on Ward.

“Really,” he drawls.

“Yes, really,” she answers calmly. “Why is that so shocking?”

Ward is smirking, and she hates the way he seems to have one over her. “Well, because this trip is specifically for couples.”

Daisy’s jaw drops, and she catches Jemma’s eye over Ward’s shoulder. Why the hell didn’t you tell me this sooner??? she asks with her eyes.

I didn’t know you were going to do this!! is Jemma’s nonverbal reply.

Daisy huffs and tries not to fume, which fails miserably when she sees just how smug Ward looks. Little alarm bells start going off in the logical part of her brain, but the emotional part - the far bigger part - drowns them out.

“That’s no problem,” she says, keeping her voice light and casual. “I’ll just go with my boyfriend, then.”

Over Ward’s shoulder, she sees Jemma choke on her lemon water, and Bobbi reaches across to pound her on the back till she recovers. Once Jemma has stopped trying to swallow her own lungs, both girls give her WTF??? looks over Ward’s shoulder.

Daisy ignores them. “Yes,” she says as calmly as she can. “I’ll be going with my boyfriend, Lincoln.”

She just blurted out the first name that popped into her head, but when she sees the looks on her friends’ faces - a range of you’re kidding, right? to I fucking knew it - she knows, oh dear God she’s going to regret this.

But it’s too late to take anything back now.

At least she gets to enjoy the look on Ward’s face as he writes it up - like he’s simultaneously sucking on a lemon and stepping on a cactus.

Just as soon as he’s gone, her friends round on her.

"So," Mack says, his voice heavy with scepticism, “you and Lincoln are dating? Congratulations."

Daisy feels her cheeks flame, and tries not to notice how Hunter is unashamedly sniggering into Bobbi’s shoulder. "Shut up,” she grumbles. “I wasn’t thinking straight, okay? Ward just drives me so mad, and I…”

She trails off as it really hits her what she’s done - she told Ward she was dating Lincoln, which she most definitely wasn't, no matter how much her friends insisted they were perfect for each other. And that would be bad enough on its own, but to make things even worse, she also can’t let out the truth, otherwise Ward wins.

"Well, shit," she says succinctly.

Her friends are all shaking their heads at her, but most of them are hiding smiles. Daisy scowls, knowing full well this is only going to make the teasing about oh-you-and-Lincoln-should-totally-get-together ten times worse.

“So, do you want me to call Lincoln over?” Jemma asks, definite smugness in her grin. “I think he’s still working on that biomolecule project.”

“Thanks,” Daisy grumbles.

Her friends all smirk at her, and Hunter being Hunter can’t resist getting a dig in: "You know, when we said we wanted you to come along, this isn't quite what we meant.”

Bobbi punches him, but she’s smirking, too. “Good luck, Daisy,” she says. “Have fun explaining.”

Daisy scowls at her friends’ retreating backs. Oh, they’re a bunch of assholes. They’re enjoying this.

Lincoln’s voice snaps her from her thoughts. “Jemma said you wanted to see me?”

Oh, joy. How the hell does she explain this? She can't exactly say, oh, hey, Lincoln, I kinda told Ward we were dating, mind pretending to be my boyfriend for this trip I booked?

"You can't be serious," Lincoln says incredulously, and Daisy's cheeks simultaneously burn bright red and blanch ashy white as she realises that shit, she said that out loud.

"Um… Afraid I'm dead serious," she says, and winces.

Lincoln's expression shifts into the special Daisy-what-the-actual-hell look he's perfected over the years of being her friend. "Are you crazy?" he asks, politely.

She winces again. "Um, probably."

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “You know,” he says, and she prepares herself for the inevitable Daisy-this-is-a-terrible-idea-what-were-you-thinking speech, “as ideas go, this isn’t your worst one yet.”

Daisy starts to nod, putting on her best contrite expression, but stops mid-nod as she realises what he actually said.

Wait, what?

“Wait, it’s not?” she asks.

Lincoln shakes his head slowly. “Incredibly, no,” he says. “It actually kind of makes sense.”

Daisy narrows her eyes suspiciously as a thought hits her. “Hang on a second. You’re just saying that because you want me to go on a break.”

“Of course not!” he denies immediately. “Okay, well, fine, maybe. But it also makes sense Ward-wise, if you think about it.”

“Oh?” she asks, folding her arms.

“Well, this way he might finally stop creepily following you around, trying to get back together with you and persuading you that the breakup wasn’t his fault,” Lincoln lists.

Daisy can’t hold back a snort at that last one. It’s true, Ward does seem to think their breakup wasn’t on him - even though he had literally been sleeping with another woman for the entirety of their relationship!

Honestly, if dodgy relationship ethics were reason enough to fire someone, Daisy was certain Coulson would have kicked him out a long time ago.

“And anyway,” Lincoln continues, snapping her back to the present, “it’s not like we’ll even have to work all that hard to convince him. All we’ve got to do is hold hands and take a few cheesy selfies.” His eyes light up as an idea occurs to him. “Oh! And we can call each other really cringey couple names.”

She can feel the grin spreading across her face, because if you put it like that, this actually sounds really fun. “You can be snickerdoodle, and I’ll be honeypie.”

He snorts. “Snickerdoodle?”

She bats her eyelashes up at him, stepping right into his space and talking in a baby voice. “My one and only snickerdoodle, I wuv you so muchhhh!”

He rolls his eyes, shoving her playfully away. “Okay, so we’re going to be one of those really cringey, clingy couples, then?”

“We are going to be the clingiest, most cringey couple in the history of the world,” she says gleefully.

And oh my God, this is going to be the best thing ever. She can already see the look on Ward’s face.

She never thought she’d say it, but she’s counting down the days till the trip.

Now, the company arranged for them all to meet up an hour before their flight at the airport. Daisy and Lincoln, however, arranged for her to be late, so they can greet each other in the cringiest way possible.

Exactly as they planned, she makes it just-just in time for the meetup. She drops everything and runs into Lincoln’s arms, and he picks her up and literally swings her around.

“Oh, babe, I’m so glad I made it,” she says breathily when he puts her down, dramatically flinging her arms around his neck.

“I thought I was snickerdoodle,” he murmurs into her hair.

“I wanted to give Jemma a break,” she explains, resting her forehead against his so it looks like they’re Having A Moment.

“Fair enough,” he concedes, stepping away and going to pick up her bags.

“Oh, you didn’t have to!” she cries in her most girlish, ridiculous voice, rushing to his side and giving him the most sappy, stupid smile she can call up. Oh, hell yes, she’s going to milk this cringey girlfriend thing for all it’s worth.

Lincoln rolls his eyes, but plays along. “Of course I did, honeypie,” he says, reaching for her hand and returning the heart eyes.

Daisy has to muffle her laughter in his shoulder when she sees Ward flashing them an annoyed look.

But Ward hasn’t seen anything yet. Plan Cringe is only just in its starting phases.

They sit next to each other on the plane, and Daisy makes a big show of getting out her dual headphone adaptor so they can watch movies together. (She also makes sure they pick out the cringiest rom-com available, and coo over it together in the most obnoxious way imaginable.)

When they’ve finished three movies like that (Daisy can see Jemma wincing from the aisle in front of them, and honestly it just makes the whole thing better) she lifts the armrest between their seats and rests her head against his shoulder. He spreads his crappy plane blanket over them both, and Daisy falls asleep in seconds.

But before anyone gets any ideas - looking at you, Jemma, and you, Hunter - this doesn’t mean anything’s changed between them. It just means they’re good friends, and comfortable with each other, despite this crazy prank they’re pulling.

The next morning, they land in Greece - and oh my God, all her friends were right. Daisy has been stuck in front of a computer for too long, and she has been missing out. This place is absolutely breathtaking.

And absolutely perfect for cringey couples selfies.

Seriously, they couldn’t ask for a better backdrop - Albuquerque-style white buildings with bright blue roofs, bright pink bougainvillea flowers, and the teal-blue Aegean on the horizon.

They get a few really good ones - like that time when they climbed all the way to one of the buildings on the very top of the mountain. Hunter, who had a surprising eye for it, posed them, having Daisy wrap her arms around Lincoln’s neck and him pick her up and look adoringly up at her. The result is every bit as nauseatingly lovey-dovey as she could have hoped.

(Daisy’s pretty sure Ward excused himself to go throw up.)

So all in all, it’s been a great day.

Then they get to the hotel.

"Here's your key," the receptionist lady tells them pleasantly. Then, because she's some poor, misguided soul who just wants to be nice, she adds with a wink, "the honeymoon suite is the best, I'm sure you two will make good use of the bed."

Daisy almost chokes on her welcome lemonade. “Honeymoon suite?” she splutters.

"Of course!" the reception lady says, mistaking her horrified shock for the delighted kind. “Only the best for our guests from Shield.”

Daisy takes their key, feeling as though her cheeks have actually lit on fire. This was not the plan!

“Have fun!” the haplessly oblivious receptionist calls after them, obviously thinking they’re one of those new couples who are still adorably shy around each other. “I’m sure you’ll make some unforgettable memories here in Santorini.”

Lincoln follows her into the elevator, and neither of them can look each other in the eye.

That only gets worse when they see their room.

Oh, dear God, the receptionist lady wasn’t kidding. This is a honeymoon suite and a half! Rose petals, candles, soft mood music - you name it, this room has it.

“Okay, seriously?” Daisy asks, picking up a heart-shaped chocolate. It’s a bit of a desperate attempt to lessen the awkwardness of the situation, but Lincoln catches on gratefully.

“That’s taking it a bit too far,” he agrees, taking the chocolate from her and studying her.

Dear heavens, it actually says To your true love on it.

“So, um,” he asks, very deliberately looking at the chocolate and not at her, “how are we going to do this?”

“Well, I’d suggest just taking the wrapping paper off before you eat it,” she says.

Lincoln gives her an unimpressed look. “Not what I meant.”

“I know,” she says, scooping up some of the rose petals and scattering them on the floor. “Well, uh. So. Obviously, this is awkward.”

He mutters something that sounds like “yeah, no kidding.”

“But,” she soldiers on, “we’re both adults, right? And we’re both capable of basic maths?”

He nods slowly, clearly not sure where she's going with this.

“Well, then,” she explains. “You stay on the left half of the bed, I’ll stay on the right.”

Something indefinable - a mix of relief and regret, maybe - flits across his face, but it’s gone before she can be sure. “That sounds fine,” he says.

It’s a little awkward as they change, definitely definitely not looking at each other (okay, fine, it’s a lot awkward. But, seriously, what was she expecting?)

Then they have to turn the lights off.

There’s just no way this can not be awkward. They’re sharing a bed, for God’s sake! And no matter how much Daisy can go on about maths and being adults, she knows she’s a snuggler and she’s 99% sure they’re going to end up spooning at some point.

So she takes a deep breath, steels herself, and says it. “If I… come lie next to you, um, can we pretend it never happened in the morning?”

She feels rather than hears Lincoln exhale in the dark. “Okay,” he agrees quietly.

She shifts over to his side of the bed, settling until she’s found a comfortable spot (conveniently with her head pillowed on Lincoln’s shoulder.)

Now, Daisy has always had trouble falling asleep - the consequences of bouncing from foster home to foster home, where any night might be her last there.

But tonight, with Lincoln’s one arm thrown around her waist, she falls asleep in seconds.

The next day, when they go down to breakfast together, there’s a genuine fondness in the way Daisy laces her fingers with his. There aren’t many people who would pretend to date you and spend the night snuggled up with you without giving you any issues about it.

That fond feeling stays with her for the rest of the day, and she finds herself secretly quite enjoying all the cringey couple-y things they do together. Sharing ice-cream? Awesome. Bumping shoulders as they walk? Great. Pressing a kiss against his cheek in their latest Santorini-selfie? Sure, why not! They’re friends, and she really appreciates him, so it’s only natural that she wants to show it, right?

The next day passes in much the same way, and the next - sunshine and happiness, ice-cream and laughter, white beaches and blue waves and smiles that she doesn’t have to fake at all.

Then comes the double whammy: the Santorini Annual Summer Ball.

It’s only the most romantic night ever, and it’s pretty much tradition for couples to kiss after every dance.

Daisy tells herself she’ll talk to Lincoln about it as soon as they get to their room that night.

Only… she wasn’t expecting how different the room would feel, knowing what she’s supposed to talk to him about.

Kissing.

They’ve done a lot in this faux relationship, but never that. Sure, she’ll kiss his cheek, and he’ll kiss her forehead, but they’ve never actually, you know, made out.

And they’re going to have to tomorrow, otherwise there’s no way Ward’s going to believe they’re a couple. With how stupidly romantic and clingy they’ve been acting, they basically have to kiss at this dance.

Which brings her back to this damned room, with its rose petals and candles and bloody romantic atmosphere.

“Daisy, are you okay?” Lincoln asks when he comes out of the bathroom, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She swallows as she sees him - the soft blue of the sweatshirt he sleeps in really brings out the colour of his eyes, and the way his damp hair sticks up is oddly adorable.

“I’m fine,” she manages to say. “Just… we need to talk about the dance tomorrow.”

Lincoln freezes with his towel halfway up to his hair. “Ah.”

“We have to kiss,” she tells him, trying to make it as matter-of-fact as possible but finding herself irritatingly breathless about it.

“Daisy, no, I don’t want to pressure you into anything -” he says immediately, but trails off when she steps forward and presses a finger against his lips.

“Shut up,” she tells him firmly. “If anything, I pressured you into this. I started the fake relationship, and it was my idea to be so clingy.”

He gently shifts her hand away from his lips, keeping a hold of her wrist for a second longer than strictly necessary, and Daisy’s breath did not just catch. “I didn’t exactly complain,” he says wryly.

“Well, that’s because you’re a good friend,” she says, and he gets that strange expression on his face again, like he’s trying to tell her something but can’t quite find the words.

“Yeah,” he says at last, strangely reluctantly. “We’re friends. Good friends.”

She chooses to ignore the strange tone for now. “A good friend,” she says, “who I need to kiss right now.”

“Now?” he asks, and surprised is a good look on him. His eyes flick inadvertently down to her lips, and she tries not to be too pleased about that.

“Yes, now,” she says, and dammit, her voice has gone all breathless. She clears her throat, forcing herself to remember why she’s doing this. “So we can be sure we’ll look alright when we kiss in front of everyone else. We’re a couple, we’re supposed to have kissed many times before. It needs to look natural.”

“Good point,” Lincoln agrees, his eyes flicking down to her lips again.

Daisy shifts a step forward, just enough that she’s in his space. “So,” she says softly.

“So?” he repeats, looking slightly amused as he copies her, closing the distance between them even more.

Daisy’s breathing hitches again. This slow buildup, coupled with the romantic feel of their room, is doing really funny things to her heart.

Breathless, tingly kind of funny things.

She can’t take it anymore and closes the last step of distance between them, bracing her palm against his chest as she stretches up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

He kisses her back immediately, wrapping an arm around her waist to steady her as she leans into him.

It’s soft and slow and romantic and really, really good.

After a minute, Daisy pulls away reluctantly, her lips tingling. “I can… work with that,” she manages, only she’s looking at his lips instead of at him. She clears her throat and steps away.

Lincoln looks about as wrecked as she feels. “Yeah,” he says softly, touching one hand lightly against his lips.

Daisy swallows as her own lips tingle slightly in response. She ducks her gaze away, sure she must be blushing like crazy.

“So, um,” she says, and her voice is a lot less steady than she’d like, “shall we go to bed?”

Lincoln’s gaze is far too soft as he looks at her - she thinks she might melt. After a second that seems to stretch out into eternity, he shakes himself and gives her a small smile. “Of course.”

That night, she struggles to fall asleep. Memories of their kiss keep playing in her mind, and it doesn’t help that she’s resting her head against Lincoln’s chest, surrounded by the comforting smell of him.

She keeps telling herself to stop thinking about it, that it didn’t mean anything, that it was just to keep up the charade.

But when morning rolls around and she still hasn’t slept any (but has managed to come up with more and more ridiculous theories for why she’s feeling this way, including, bizarrely, an invasion of blue-skinned aliens) she’s forced to conclude that she feels this way because she loves him.

Not even likes him - loves him. It’s the only explanation for the warm, glowing feeling she gets when he brings her her ridiculously complicated coffee order, or when he casually slings an arm around her shoulders when they’re joking with their friends.

She tried to tell herself that it was just fakery for Ward’s benefit - and while that might be true for him, it’s not true for her anymore.

Every cheesy couple thing they did together? She wants to keep doing it. Every time they bump shoulders or share ice-cream or splash each other with blue sea-water? She wants to keep doing it. Every time they kiss each other on the cheek? She wants to keep doing it!

And above all, she really, really wants to kiss him again, the way they kissed last night.

Shit.

Lincoln’s still asleep next to her, and Daisy panics as she looks down at him. Shit, shit, shit. Oh, this is so bad. How did it get so bad?

There are literally a thousand reasons why this would never work out, first and foremost being that he probably doesn’t feel the same way - he’s her friend! He confirmed that last night, right when he also confirmed that they were just doing this for the fakery.

Daisy doesn’t really know what she’s doing, just that she can’t be in the same room as him anymore. So she jumps out of bed and runs to find the person she knows will always be there for her in a crisis - Jemma.

“Daisy!” Jemma exclaims, surprised, when Daisy bursts into her room still in her nightclothes and with her hair wild. “Uh, what…”

“Jemma, I have a problem,” she announces, standing silhouetted in her friend’s door like she’s in some incredibly dramatic action shot in a movie (except for the fact that she looks like a mess.) “I’m in love with Lincoln.”

Fitz, sweet soul that he is, takes one look at Daisy and tactfully decides to make himself scarce. “I’m going to go… watch football… with Hunter,” he says, squeezing past her, and Daisy is too riled up to even bother herself about the lame excuse. Who watches football at seven in the morning, anyway?

“I think you need to come sit down,” Jemma tells her, pulling her firmly over to her and Fitz’s bed. “Tell me the whole story.”

Daisy hesitates, chewing her lip… and then it all comes spilling out. “Lincoln and I kissed last night,” she blurts. “We said it was just to make sure we’d look natural for the dance tomorrow - tonight - but it meant more than that for me. And, Jem -” she paused, hiding her head in her hands, “I’ve gotten myself into such a mess. I’ve fallen in love with my friend who’s only pretending to love me.”

Jemma is quiet for a few beats as she processes this information. Then, gently but firmly, she lifts Daisy’s head out of her hands.

“Daisy,” she says, quiet but firm, “you are not in a mess.”

Daisy makes a sound that’s half a laugh and half a sob. “Haven’t you been listening to me? I love Lincoln, who’s only pretending to love me back.”

“Pretending… because you asked him to,” Jemma reminds her. “Now, why do you think he did that?”

“Because he’s a good friend?” Daisy replies, not sure where Jemma is going with this.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Well, yes, there’s certainly that. But, Daisy, d’you think he’d agree to be my fake boyfriend if I asked him?”

“Why would you ask him?” Daisy asked, more confused than ever now. “You have Fitz!”

Jemma throws up her hands. “You’re completely missing the point here! Daisy, you oblivious, wonderful idiot, the reason Lincoln agreed to this whole fake relationship thing is because he loves you too.”

Daisy shakes her head. “No, he doesn’t, he can’t, why would he -”

“Why wouldn’t he?!?” Jemma practically yells. “Have you even met yourself? You are literally one of the most amazing people on the planet.”

That shuts Daisy up. “Really?” she asks weakly.

Jemma shakes her head, disbelieving. “Really, Daisy,” she says firmly. “Are you kidding me? Who wouldn’t be in love with you?”

“I don’t know, Ward?” Daisy says, half-desperately gesturing with her hands.

Understanding dawns in Jemma’s eyes. “Oh. Oh.”

And then, “Daisy.”

“What?” Daisy asks, not liking the sympathetic expression on Jemma’s face one bit.

Jemma sighs. “Just because Ward was an absolute dick to you doesn’t mean Lincoln will be. You can let yourself trust that he loves you too, you know.”

Daisy’s surprise at the word dick coming out of Jemma’s mouth is seconded only by her surprise of what Jemma is actually saying. Of course she wasn’t being distrustful because of what Ward did to her… was she?

“Daisy, you are not unlovable or any such total rubbish,” Jemma says, and her British accent somehow makes the word rubbish sound so much better. “Ward not loving you right had absolutely nothing to do with you.”

And Daisy… believes her.

Jemma obviously sees the acceptance in Daisy’s eyes, because she presses on, “and while we’re at it - I don’t think either of you were pretending this last week.”

Daisy splutters - “what?? Of course we were pretending, don’t be…”

But then she trails off as she remembers thinking how she secretly enjoyed doing the couple-y nonsense, and how after just a day she wasn’t faking a single one of her smiles.

She snaps her mouth shut. “Well,” she says. And blinks. “You really think Lincoln loves me too?”

If looks could kill, Daisy would be stone dead - of pure and unadulterated exasperation. “Yes, Daisy,” Jemma says in that tone that implies that even the patience of saints can be tested. “He loves you too. There is literally no doubt. Ask anyone.”

Hunter chooses that moment to pipe up, “yeah, no, you two are definitely in love.”

Daisy’s jaw drops as she realises that her friends have all gathered in the doorway. “How long have you guys been there???”

“Just long enough to hear that last sentence,” Mack says reassuringly. He raises his eyebrows at her. “But it’s true, you know. You two are nauseatingly in love.”

If there had been any doubt in her mind, well, it’s gone now. Her friends are some of the most intelligent people in the world - they can’t all be wrong.

And they all think Lincoln loves her, so…

“What do I do?” she asks.

It’s Bobbi who replies. “Well, no offence,” she says, looking Daisy up and down, “but you look like shit.”

“Get some sleep,” Elena chimes in.

“We’ll make up some excuse for Lincoln,” Fitz promises.

“And tonight,” Jemma says, taking her hands, “you blow us all away.”

All their supportive wonderfulness (and the fact that she is functioning on zero sleep) is too much for her emotional state. “Thanks, guys,” she says, and to her total embarrassment, she starts to cry.

Jemma just hugs her, though, and within minutes Daisy is fast asleep. She really was exhausted.

The good thing is, her friends let her sleep as long as possible.

The bad thing is, her friends let her sleep as long as possible.

As in, she now has five minutes to get ready for the dance.

Luckily, Jemma, Bobbi and Elena are really good at splitting up tasks - Elena somehow manages to transform her hair into soft, silky curls that beautifully frame her face, Bobbi does her makeup like a pro, and Jemma helps her get changed into a floaty, summery blue dress that looks stunning on her, if she says so herself.

But even with all their best efforts, she’s fifteen minutes late to the dance.

It’s held on the beach, under the light of the moon and stars (and some fairy lights in the trees, but shhh.) It takes her a moment to spot Lincoln, but eventually she finds him, standing on the far side of the beach and looking worriedly through the crowd.

When he spots her, his face relaxes into a smile that’s so perfectly and effortlessly happy that Daisy can’t help but smile back.

And she thinks, you know, they were all right.

She walks slowly across the beach to him, and cliché as it is, she really does feel like Cinderella (minus the glass slippers, of course, because glass slippers plus sand? Can you imagine?)

When she reaches him, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to step right into his embrace. “Dance with me,” she says, offering him a dazzling smile.

He settles his hand at her waist, clasping the other one in hers, and oh, it’s so perfect she wants to explode into a cloud of rainbows and sparkles.

When the song ends, she doesn’t think twice about leaning up and kissing him.

It’s only when he tenses, just slightly, that she remembers. She hasn’t actually told him yet!

He pulls away from the kiss, looking conflicted. “I need you to know,” he begins, “those last few days… they weren’t fake for me. And I’m sorry if I’ve ruined our friendship, but not seeing you for the whole day today made me realise it would tear me apart if I lost you. Daisy, I,” he stops, swallows, and says it, “I love you.”

Daisy bites her lip, but she couldn’t stop the smile that spreads across her face even if she had tried. “I love you, too,” she tells him.

He’s smiling, laughing even, happy and disbelieving, “Really?”

And she’s laughing too, “yes, of course, yes!”

Then they’re kissing again, and there’s nothing fake about it for a second.

And as for Ward? Well, Ward can go fuck himself.

Even though they do, technically, have him to thank for this.

Daisy shudders. Ugh. Imagine being grateful to Ward!

She’d really rather not think about it.

So she kisses Lincoln again.

A song begins to play in the background, soft and slow and sweet, and Daisy smiles against his lips as she recognises it. Perfect, by Ed Sheeran.

Well, she thinks, isn’t that just perfect.

And that Grecian night on the beach, the soft glow of the moon turning the waves silver, and the scents of the bougainvillea flowers sweet on the breeze, really is the closest thing to perfect that Daisy has ever experienced.

The End.

#tropes mashup #holiday fic #fake dating #bed sharing #staticquake #bullet-point fic

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ghostgothgeek · 5 years ago

Text

Hurt.

Merry Christmas Pham! Here is some much needed Sam and Tucker friendship bonding! This is kind of meant to set the tone before Doctor’s Disorders and explain why Sam knows Tucker doesn’t like doctors or hospitals and Danny doesn’t. Hope you enjoy!

Standard disclaimers. Also posted on my AO3 and FFN accounts. Rated T for swearing.

“SAM!” Danny and Tucker cried, Tucker from across the street and Danny approximately 75 feet in the air.

“Motherfucker,” Sam muttered to herself and gently poked at her right ankle. It was already swelling up and was probably turning red underneath her tights. She rolled her ankle around a bit. It wasn’t broken, but it definitely hurt. “I’m fine!” she called back to her friends, shooting the ghost that had just attacked her, the same one Danny was battling in the sky, with her wrist ray to prove her point.

Tucker ran over to her, trying to assess the situation. “Are you okay?” He held a hand out to help her from the ground. She grabbed it and hissed when she stood fully, quickly grabbing onto Tucker’s shoulder and letting her right foot hang above the ground.

“Shit..the ONE TIME I wear sneakers instead of my boots…” Danny and Tucker had insisted that if she wore sneakers to fight instead of her clunky boots, her fighting would be more efficient. Why had she listened to them again? She gets almost as many ghosts as Danny and her boots at least provided ankle support...

Tucker grinned, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. But seriously, are you okay?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. I didn’t break anything, but I can’t walk, let alone stand.” She glanced up at Danny, who was shooting an ectoblast at his opponent. “I think you should take me to the hospital to get-”

“Nope.”

“Tucker, I’m serious.”

“So am I! You’re fine! You can just lean on me or have Danny fly you home when he’s done. No big deal. No doctor, no hospital.” He shook his head frantically and wrapped Sam’s arm around his shoulder, her arm wrapping around his torso shortly thereafter. She glanced down at her swollen ankle.

“Tucker, this hurts really bad. And you know I’m not one to complain.”

Tucker shot her a look. “What about the time you complained about dissecting real frogs in biology? Or the time you complained about those really cool monster trucks? Or when you complained about beauty pageants and then joined in anyway? Or any of the times you complained about Paulina? Oh! And what about that one time wh-”

“Alright, alright, I get it. Well, I’m not one to complain about pain, anyway. But seriously, can you help me get to the hospital?”

“Do I have to?” Tucker groaned.

“Yes! What’s the big deal?” Tucker muttered something under his breath that she couldn’t quite make out. “What?”

“I don’t like hospitals.”

“Yeah, and I don’t like the possibility of never walking again. Tucker, please.”

He sighed. Sam didn’t say 'please’ very often. “Alright, alright. I’m doing this because you’re my best friend and I love you, okay? But I’m leaving right after I drop you off.” Sam rolled her eyes but complied. They both glanced back up at Danny, who was still mid-battle but holding his own. “He can catch up with us later.”

Tucker had gotten Sam into the emergency room, where she sat filling out some paperwork. He turned around to book it out of there when Sam stopped him by grabbing his wrist. “Tuck, can you please stay?” Her face was full of conflicting emotions. She hated asking for help, yet here she was sacrificing her pride and reputation of being an independent woman because she was scared.

He glanced around the room and made a face before his eyes settled on her pleading lavender ones. He had never seen her so vulnerable before. He sighed and sat down next to her. “Thanks,” there was a moment of silence before she continued, “so while we wait, how about you tell me why you don’t like hospitals.” She gently grabbed his hand closest to hers, which was gripping the arms of his chair tightly. He groaned internally; he very well knew that she would pester him until he gave her a straight answer. You could never bullshit Sam. Plus, she had already shown vulnerability to him today. He could at least return the favor.

“Well…I guess it started when I was 6. I had gotten hurt on the playground, so my mom took me to the hospital. A woodchip kinda stabbed me in the hand when some kid pushed me over. They had to remove it for me, and then they stapled the wound shut.”

“Ah, that’s why you have that scar on your hand.” Sam nodded towards it. He flipped his hand over where the scar in the middle of his palm was clearly visible.

“Yeah, it was terrible. Who uses staples on a kid? Anyway, they kept stabbing me with needles to take all these tests and stuff. I don’t like needles.” He visibly shuddered. “Then when I was 9, I had to go to a hospital again when my grandpa was sick. I didn’t really understand what was going on, but my dad had left me in the room with him while he called my mom, and I was all alone and long story short he just died right in front of me. That was pretty traumatizing.”

“I’m so sorry.” She said genuinely. Perhaps it was because she was so close to her grandmother that the statement hit her hard. She squeezed his hand.

“Another time back in middle school, I went to the nurse’s office because I scraped my knee in gym class and needed a bandaid, and while I was waiting for her to grab one, Gabriel Morris puked all over my shoes.” Tucker’s face scrunched up in disgust as he recalled the bad memory. “And then it’s just everything in general. There’s the weird smell and everything is white and they just stab you with needles and there’s people in the building dying right now and it’s all so gross and terrifying. I can’t even look at a hospital when I pass by one. I avoid doctors at all costs.”

Sam squeezed his hand again. “Well, I really appreciate you being here for me right now. I know it’s going to take awhile, and I need company or I’ll go insane.” She smiled at him. She had always been close with Tucker, and though they had conflicting interests on occasion, they had their handful of moments like these.

Tucker returned a small smile and breathed out a small laugh. “Look, I’m not even the one who is in pain and you’re comforting me.”

Sam laughed, “Hey, we all have our shit, you know.” She glanced at his phone on his lap when it lit up, signaling a text from Danny.

Tucker unlocked his phone and read the message before shoving it in his pocket. “Danny’s putting the ghost back into the Ghost Zone right now and then he’s going to swing by Frostbite to ask a few questions. He’s going to be a while.” Sam nodded in response.

“No problem, I have the mighty fine Tucker to help me through this crisis.”

“It’s Too Fine, actually.” He frowned.

“My mistake.” She smiled, turning her gaze from him as the nurse called her name. Tucker pushed her in a wheelchair to a small room with all sorts of wires and things that could poke somebody. He gulped. Sam could sense his wariness, and looked to the young, attractive nurse, who was questioning Sam about what happened. “Oh, I took kind of a hard fall. This here is my best friend Tucker, he’s been getting me through all this. He’s super brave and practically carried me over here. He’s my support system today.”

Tucker blushed at the praise and stared down at his shoes. The nurse gave him a reassuring smile and held her hand out for him to shake. “I’m Claire, I’ll be taking care of your friend today. Did you see what happened?”

He looked up at the blonde, whose smile widened when his eyes met hers. He shook her hand. “U-uh, yeah…” Tucker paused as he formulated a response. “We were just walking home from school and this ghost just blasted her out of nowhere, it was pretty freaky. Sam here kinda tripped backwards and fell in a weird way. I am always telling her she should wear boots or something with more ankle support, clumsy little thing.”

Sam tilted her head back and glared up at him. Tucker just shrugged and grinned, letting her know he was just teasing. Sam was just glad his attention seemed to be diverted from the room he was currently in.

“Oh, you’re very brave for getting her here in the middle of a ghost attack. Let’s take a look at your ankle.” Sam cringed as the nurse took her shoe off and started touching her ankle. “Yes, this definitely needs some attention. I’ll get the doctor to see you shortly and will take you up for x-rays in a few minutes if need be. In the meantime, how about you take those tights off so we can get a better look. I’ll be back in a few.” The nurse softly closed the door behind her as Sam stood on one foot and started pulling her purple tights off.

“Woah! Hey! I’m still here!” Tucker yelled, covering his eyes with his hands.

Sam laughed, “Tucker, chill. I’m not naked or anything.” She wrapped her arm around him for support as she put her weight on him and tugged her tights off her good ankle. She sat on the hospital bed and looked at Tucker, who was peeking through his fingers. “I do need your help though. Help me get these off, but be gentle.” Sam pointed to her tights remaining on her other leg. Tucker nodded and carefully pulled her tights completely off.

“You know, I always dreamt of undressing a girl, but you’re not exactly who I had in mind. No offense.” Tucker’s remark earned a chuckle from Sam.

“None taken.” She sat back on the hospital bed and watched him glance around the room nervously. “You don’t have to worry, you know. I’m the patient, not you. And I don’t plan on dying any time soon.”

“Are you nauseous?” Tucker raised an eyebrow and sat in the wheelchair.

“Tucker, if I was going to hurl all over you, I would at least have the common decency to tell you first.” She sighed when her comment didn’t make him any less anxious. “Thanks for staying with me for this. If my parents were in town, they would be driving me and the doctors insane. You’re a great friend. I know it isn’t said enough.”

Tucker looked at her bashfully, unsure of how to respond. “I uh...thanks? Or you’re welcome?”

Sam chuckled, “I’m not sure what the appropriate response is either. Hey, pull up the movie trailer for Trinity of Doom again! The sound is way better on your phone.” She smiled when she saw how proud he was of his technology as he pulled it up.

Several minutes and a debate over which monster is scarier later, there was a brief knock on the door before the doctor walked in. “So, Samantha-” he started.

“Sam.” Tucker and Sam corrected him at the same time.

“Let me check out your injury.” The doctor set his clipboard down on the counter and bent down to inspect Sam’s ankle. She winced when he started moving it and held Tucker, who looked ready to pounce on the doctor, back as he stood next to her protectively.

The doctor paused and pursed his lips at the other miscellaneous scrapes and bruises that coated her legs, some looking more healed and some looking fresh. “Samantha, are you sure this has only been a one time occurance? We can talk in private if your boyfriend wants to wait outside.”

Sam looked at him confused, ignoring his use of her full name. “I don’t understand.”

“You seem to have more injuries than just a sprained ankle, and they appear to have occurred over different periods of time. Domestic violence is unfortunately pretty common, even amongst teena-”

“Excuse me?!” Sam interrupted.

“We can talk in private if that makes you more comforta-”

“First of all, Tucker is not my boyfriend. Second, minor bruises and cuts hardly count as injuries. Third, what makes you think he would be abusive towards me when he has shown absolutely ZERO signs of being my boyfriend, let alone an abuser?”

“Well, I mean, he’s, you know, you never know and typically perpetrators are-”

“Black?” Tucker spat angrily.

“That’s not exactly what I was...I’m just saying that-” The doctor stumbled over his words, clearly embarrassed and trying to avoid a lawsuit.

Tucker opened his mouth to speak again, but Sam beat him to it. “That is so unprofessional and honestly just plain stupid of you to say. I can’t believe someone who is supposed to be smart enough to get through med school and someone who took the hippocratic oath and has to treat a diversity of patients would be so ignorant to racially profile someone and suggest he’s abusive because of the color of his skin. You damn well know that the cuts and bruises I have are as minor as playground injuries, but no, why would a white girl come in here with a black boy if she wasn’t being somehow manipulated into staying in an abusive relationship? I’ll have you know that Tucker is one of the sweetest people I know and he is a person of incredible character, which is something you, an adult and a supposed professional, are not. Now I suggest you think before you speak next and apologize to my friend here right now or I will have a massive Manson family lawsuit hit you and this hospital so hard your ancestors will be feeling it.”

Tucker’s jaw dropped slightly and his eyes were wide, though he shouldn’t have been too surprised that she would scold an adult like that.

The doctor looked at the girl, who was lighting panting from how much effort she had put into her rant, in shock. He was honestly a little terrified of how much anger she had in her eyes. He looked over at the boy who now held a stoic expression. “M-my deepest apologies, sir.” He didn’t think he could form any other intelligible sentences.

“Awesome. Now go get me a new doctor to wrap my damn ankle so we can get out of here,” Sam said sternly. The doctor simply nodded, clearly still stupefied, and scrambled out of the room. “The fucking nerve of that guy,” she started again, clearly still furious. She looked back at her friend to see how he was handling the situation.

He didn’t even need to thank her, gratitude and pride were written all over his face. She shot him a small smile and held her arms out for a hug, which he quickly accepted. “Thanks, Sam.” He leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

“Any time.” She smiled and pulled back, taking a deep breath as the energy in the room began to settle. Tucker sat down next to her and stared at his shoes for a few moments before glancing around the room and becoming anxious again. Sam quickly whipped out her phone. “Hey did you see this video of a hedgehog taking a bath?” She gave him a comforting smile.

“No, I didn’t.” He smiled back gratefully.

After a new doctor had come in to wrap Sam’s ankle, apologizing profusely to the teens, the nurse from earlier had returned and handed Tucker Sam’s discharge papers. “I left my personal phone number on there in case you have any questions about your friend’s treatment.” Tucker swore she winked at him before helping Sam stand up on her crutches. He only nodded in response and helped Sam out of the hospital, where a cab was already waiting to take them back to Sam’s place.

“So, Game of Thrones marathon until Danny gets back?” Sam smiled, texting Danny to let her know she was alright and they were heading home.

“Hell yeah!”

When they arrived back at Sam’s house, Tucker helped her up the front steps and watched her make her way into the kitchen to pull snacks out. “I’ll order some pizzas, you carry this downstairs and get comfy.”

Tucker nodded and did as she asked after she insisted she was fine and could manage her way downstairs by herself, especially because her house had an elevator to help her grandma get around. He sat down in his favorite spot in her theater and settled in, feeling incredibly grateful for his best friend and her safety.

Sam arrived shortly thereafter and pulled up the episode that would continue her and Tucker’s binge. Game of Thrones was dark enough for Sam’s enjoyment, action-packed enough to keep Tucker entertained without his PDA, and nerdy enough for the both of them. Danny never understood the hype. Game of Thrones was something Sam and Tucker shared, the tradition starting up one afternoon when they were waiting on Danny to get out of detention.

Later, Danny landed in Sam’s basement, glancing at all the junk food scattered across the couch between his friends. “Are you okay Sam?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just have to wear this stupid boot for a week. Fortunately it’s not too much bigger than my combat boots, so really what’s the difference.” She smiled.

“Yeah, Sam’s okay, but the doctor isn’t.” Tucker laughed.

“What?” Danny grabbed a soda and sat in the open seat.

“Sam threatened a doctor today,” Tucker stated proudly.

“What?!”

“It’s no big deal,” Sam dismissed it with a flick of her hand.

“It was a big deal, Danny! She even dropped the Manson name and threatened a lawsuit! It was awesome!” Tucker said excitedly.

“It was nothing,” Sam said sheepishly. “Tucker got a hot nurse’s number!”

“Not really, she was just being nice.”

“Oh please! She was totally into you, and you were just radiating that ‘Too Fine’ charm!”

Danny drowned out their conversation and looked back and forth between his friends flabbergasted. He wasn’t even sure which out of character aspect of his two friends he should respond to first. Before he could even gather his thoughts, the two were already sucked back into their show.

“How awesome is that dragon?!”

“It’s incredible! The CGI they do is amazing!”

Danny frowned, feeling extremely excluded. Sam and Tucker were friends of course, but these moments where they were more than getting along were few and far between. “Hey guys, I fought a real dragon remember?” They ignored him. “A ghost dragon? A ghost dragon that Sam turned into? That was more awesome, right?!”

“Uh huh.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“The same dragon I fought today?!” No response.

Danny huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn’t leaving the two of them alone ever again.

#Sam is a huge Black Lives Matter advocate and you can't change my mind #I tried to do my very best about writing an issue I personally don't face so I hope I did okay and I'm so sorry if it came off as ignorant #I hope you guys like this we just need some good Sam and Tucker friendship fics okay #Danny Phantom #Sam Manson #Tucker Foley #Danny Fenton #trio #stephanie writes sometimes

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tinytanpopo · 5 years ago

Note

Now that Gegege no Kitaro 2018 is over, and I remember it's one of your favorite Gegege no Kitaro iteration, what's your overall and concluding thoughts about it? What are your favorite episodes of all 97 (or each season) episodes? The positive and negative? Characterization of Sawashiro Kitaro and the other Kitaro family (including Mana)? I would love to know your opinion of the sixth remake!

This is going to be a long answer. And full of spoilers, for those of you looking at this who haven’t watched the 2018 version of Kitaro. Here goes!

What are your favorite episodes of all 97?

I watched all 97 episodes 3 times over the course of its run. I started out watching on my own, then eventually my friend wanted to watch with me. But the crappy Crunchyroll subs got in the way of his enjoyment, so I polished them for him, and then we started watching together.

So for each episode, I’ve…

1.) Watched for my own enjoyment when the raw came out

2.) Fixed the subs

3.) Watched and enjoyed again with my best friend.

Before my friend and I started watching together, I also did a rewatch of the series up to the middle of the Backbeard arc, so, 3.3 times? And it only made me like each episode more, and notice more tiny fun details about it. Sawashiro actually smiles a lot, u guys

Anyways, here are my stand-out favorites. Titles may be self-translated or shortened, as I’m looking at the Japanese wikipedia entry for the episodes, and my opinions are mostly disorganized gushing:

1: The Day the Youkai Awoke. Kitaro, Eyeball Dad, and Mana are all very cutely introduced, as well as their dynamics with each other. Great action, ends with the apparent death of the hero. (I was new to Kitaro.) Got me to watch the next week, that’s for sure! Also, world full of weird freaky monsters, already suited to my tastes.

3: Tantanbo’s Youkai Castle. The episode that earned Sawashiro Kitaro his “Gorilla” nickname from the fandom. Also Mana asked to be friends and made Kitaro bashful and the whole latter half is so sweet. FRIENDSHIP

6: Sunekosuri. This is the first Kitaro episode that made me cry, like I really wasn’t expecting that kind of emotional impact. Another thing that kept me watching was that, even though Kitaro has its formulas (as does everything), I still didn’t know what to expect.

7: Ghost Train. Ah, my first experience with the Ghost Train story. Y'know this is the only one where the human passenger pair are both already dead? I’ve seen many other renditions of this story, but this one’s the darkest.

11-12: The 808 Tanuki arc. The whole Kitaro Family shows off their skills in a big cool battle, and Mana overcomes an intense struggle to save the day (with some credit to Murder Momen Rollo Cloth). As my friend often says, Mana is too good for this world.

13: Wanyuudo. Got some insight to Kitaro and Ratman’s odd, long-lasting friendship. When I first watched this, I didn’t really understand why they were still friends. But over the next 2 years, I would.

The meta reason? Ratman was Shigeru Mizuki’s favorite out of all his characters.

14: Makura-gaeshi. The second episode that made me cry. (not hard for a show to do that, but still) Also shot my already-present respect for Eyeball Dad through the roof.

I’m pretty sure this is the episode that changed GeGeGe no Kitaro from “one of the shows I watch once a week” to “I must find and learn about the rest of this franchise.” I’d looked up characters and little facts here and there on wikis, and occasionally browsed the Kitaro tag on Pixiv before this point, but this was the tipping point.

The door to the unseen world was open, and I jumped through.

18: Kawauso’s Lie. haha, Mana’s a city girl who’s scared of bugs

22: Gyuuki. Body horror, despair, and a really good Catgirl episode.

27-37: The Backbeard arc, or 6th Kitaro’s version of the “Great Youkai War” story. For a refreshing twist, the designated “Witch” isn’t evil in this retelling. In fact, Agnes quickly became one of my most favorite and relatable characters.

She definitely had a rocky start with the Japanese youkai, and watching her develop friendships with Mana and Kitaro was great to see, and even better on the rewatch. My friend likes Agnes a lot, too. Just assume I cried at the Mana/Agnes friendship stuff, I’m sure it happened on the rewatch, too.

Also Kitaro finally invites Mana into GeGeGe Forest! She fucking earned it!!

38: Kasha. I had already seen Reverse Mochi Murder 3 different times by this point, but it’s best whenever freaky ghost-eyeballs are involved.

Also Mana punched Kasha in the face. Well, Kitaro’s face.

39: bang. I lost it.

40: This is the darkest version of Sara-kozo! And I like it. His song was best put to use in the 4th Kitaro series, and even had a callback in one of my most favorite episodes of that series. The song, of course, is terribly catchy.

42: The Great Youkai Trial. Having seen the other versions of this story, I’m glad the writers made the 6th series version stand on its own, weaving it into the overarching Nanashi plot.

43: Odoro-Odoro. This isn’t the first Odoro-Odoro retelling where Kitaro’s efforts are thankless and reviled, but it is the one that shows it the most intensely.

47-49: Nanashi arc conclusion. Each Kitaro anime has its harsh and intense moments (even the relatively gentle 5th series), but 6th is the one that goes hard most consistently. Not just into darkness, but

50-51: complete and utter sweetness KITTENGIRL dgjklfhjlkHFDGKMBHKjl

54: Dorotabo. Sometimes, there is no “right” choice that can make everyone happy. Being a mediator can be hard, frustrating, and sometimes impossible. But despite all the stress, frustration, and repeating the same tragic scenarios, Kitaro keeps on trying.

Also, Kitaro totally carried that frog up to the roof of his house for company at the end of the episode.

56: Vampire Elite. The most sympathetic retelling of Johnny’s story. And a great Kitaro/Ratman friendship episode.

57: La Seine. He doesn’t have a top hat this time. A great retelling of Hand, and a Kitaro/Mana friendship episode. Two vampire episodes in a row, and it didn’t feel repetitive at all.

58: Kamaboko. 6th Kitaro’s crossdressing episode, with Sawashiro Kitaro at his most vindictive. Fun for all sorts of reasons. :3c

59: Ushiro-gami. Also known as the youkai cactus episode, somewhat of a series staple. This one had great horror vibes, and Mana overcoming her fear and risking her life to help Kitaro save the day. Never gets old! Mana’s the best.

62: Kitaro and Ratman fighting like children. Kitaro’s shocked face when Ratman steals his pork. Kitaro’s admiration for Ratman’s persistence to keep on living, and appreciation for yanking him back to reality during the end of Nanashi.

The Kitaro/Ratman friendship dynamic is eternal.

64: Suiko, the Water Tiger. If you find an old jar in a dirty hole somewhere? Don’t open it, don’t drink it, don’t let anyone force you to drink it. And if the jar starts talking, shove some dirt in it.

That town full of assholes totally deserved what they got, though.

66: The Grim Reaper and the Hidden Village. Well, in this context, “hidden village” is more like “Shangri-La,” which is what I changed it to in the fixed subs. The only other version of this I’ve seen is the one from the 2nd Kitaro anime. It’s a well-known trauma episode in the fandom.

In the 2nd anime, Kitaro got the trauma. In the 6th one, Mana did, and Kitaro already knew it was coming.

68: Hell Exile. Yet another one where I wasn’t sure if it’d end cynical or hopeful. One of the fresher takes on the Hell Exile story, too.

69: Ibukimaru. Nicely advances the Four Treasonous Generals arc, and has some interaction between Rei and Mana. Oh yeah, this arc introduced Rei Isurugi, an intense chuuni with Megaman demon powers. It’s neat to watch how Rei and Sawashiro Kitaro bounce off each other as individual characters.

70: Mysterious Footprints. Calls back to another one of 2nd Kitaro’s infamous trauma episodes, incidentally one of my favorites. This was great, but the 2nd anime had more intense face-melting.

72: Iyami. Mana Is Gay. That is all.

73: Yamata-no-Orochi. A great take on Kitaro’s Orochi story, now with more monkey’s paw shenanigans!

74-75: Conclusion of the Four Generals arc. Mana convinces Kitaro not to resign himself to shouldering the heaviest burden alone, as he so often does. Agnes and Adel make an appearance(yay!), and they team up with Mana and Catgirl to help save the day. Rei finally chills out, and gets a new mentor.

77: Neko-sennin. Nurarihyon startles the holy hell out of Kitaro, and further establishes how he’s going to operate this time around, connecting to his previous actions in episode 76.

Also, cats. Kitty Kitaro. Cats are my second-favorite animal, so I appreciate the many Kitaro stories involving cats.

78: Mouryou. This one gets retold in several of the other Kitaro series, with decent variation. This one has its own 6th Kitaro touch, with that fucked-up photographer, and an ending I was positive would be dark.

80: Onmoraki. I’d also consider this story a Kitaro staple, though Onmoraki was way tougher this time. Must have had something to do with Nobuyuki Hiyama. :B This is always the episode where Kitaro puts on his old painter costume, and proves he can’t think up fake names worth a damn. Gets me every time.

81: Hideri-gami the mangaka. I love comics, I translate comics, GeGeGe no Kitaro originated as a comic. This episode’s just a love letter to the medium. And seeing Kitaro genuinely enjoying Hiderin’s Totally Original Comic Do Not Steal was adorable.

83: Houkou. Some kind of disaster usually happens in this story. In the 4th anime version, Kitaro was burned to ashes. This one hit harder. Nobody won. No one was happy. We’re reminded of Dorotabo, and how Kitaro never “gets over” tragic situations like these, no matter how often they repeat. I think it’d be worse if he was desensitized, and gave up trying to make anything better.

84: Mr. Chin. The Japanese dialogue is full of puns involving the word chin and yeah I lost it. Sunday morning changes with the times, and they still get this guy in.

I died at “three rainbows” ghjghjk

89: Te-no-me’s Curse. Te-no-me is a youkai who either shows up in the youkai trial story, or has an episode for himself. Also, we finally get to see that Kitaro can just pop his hands on and off. Well, maybe not as casually as in the comics…

90: Sazae-oni. Normally you’re not “supposed” to do “it was all a dream” endings, but this is the first time they’ve done that with Sazae-oni, and the dream reveal means we just saw inside Sawashiro Kitaro’s mind. The fancy sushi restaurant exterior, the plain sweets shop, the body pillow how does he know about those?! Does he know why they look like that?!!

Kitaro seemed disappointed that he didn’t get to sing on stage. And Rei was in his dream-audience! An adorable episode.

93: The Phantom Train. Catgirl got Homuhomu’d. But KitaNeko is finally canon. This whole episode left the fandom reeling, as usual for 6th Kitaro. Best retelling of the Phantom Train story yet.

94: Hot Springs Trip. Mana carried Kitaro over 90 episodes ago, and Kitaro doing the same for Mana repays that favor, in a way.

Kitaro also admits he has Terminal Kitaro Face.

95-97: The end. I did not think they would poof Kitaro. That’s the deadest I’ve ever seen him, in any version. And the most broken, worse than a giant hate-baby crushing his dad. Kitaro giving Ratman his chashu pork made my heart explode, Mana’s sacrifice made the heart-pieces explode, and Mana reuniting with Kitaro 10 years later made my heart whole again.

Nurarihyon offing himself made sense, especially with this being his most dignified characterization in any version. Glad they let Shu-no-bon live, even if he was an actual hardass this time. Shu-no-bon’s usually a teddy bear in comparison to dual-wielding gatling guns

I’m sure the prime minister didn’t keep her position for much longer.

Episode 97’s subs left out most of Mana’s text to Catgirl at the end, so here it is:

“Cat-Sis! Here’s the pic Nebutori took for us on our recent trip! Also, I found a sweets shop near my workplace. Let’s ask Kitaro to go there with us!”

A very sweet ending, indeed.

The positive and negative?

I wish we’d gotten to see more of Agnes and Rei outside of their own arcs, and the conclusions of other arcs, though they clearly had their own lives to live and paths to take.

We didn’t get Akamata or Shisa or a bunch of other youkai I was hoping to see in the episodes. We didn’t get stories for Jami or Kamanari, both of who showed up as bit characters at the very end. But I can accept this, too, as writers and staff working within limits, and telling the story they wanted to tell as best as they could.

I’m glad they focused more on new stuff than old, though. Maybe they didn’t want to risk a repeat of 5th Kitaro’s non-ending, but they were ready to end the 6th anime with the Nanashi arc. Even with a 2nd year, though, the writers didn’t lose their focused storytelling, and ended the series in a way that left my heart full.

Characterization of Sawashiro Kitaro and the other Kitaro family (including Mana)?

Sawashiro Kitaro continues to be that weird youkai kid, that boy who lives in the woods. He’s chill and has a bunch of comic book youkai powers, a unique sort of superhero, while also not being a cop, thank goodness. Every Kitaro is a bit of a pessimist (except 3rd anime’s Toda Kitaro, I guess), but Sawashiro is especially so. This made his gradual development even more fun to watch. The fact that he never could give up on that dream, not completely, made me appreciate that development even more.

Sawashiro cried the least out of all the Kitaros—twice, and it was only onscreen once. He kept everything in so much, it’s no wonder he imploded and went to Ultra Hell when the prime minister pot-shot him.

And, Sawashiro Kitaro is so pure and cares so much it hurts.

Eyeball Dad. Since Isamu Tanonaka passed away in 2010, the legendary Masako Nozawa (the original voice of Kitaro) took on voicing the role. Like Kitaro, Eye Dad’s characterization changes a bit with each anime, though not as much. Nozawa’s performance made Eye Dad feel more laid-back this time, I think, and more patient. In older series, he had more “Showa dad” tendencies. And we got to see him outside of eyeball or mummy form! 6th series spoiled us!

Ratman. He’s usually the same between every adaptation, save for the voice. Sometimes he’s nicer, sometimes he’s more of a bastard. But he’s always Kitaro’s friend. He may nasty, greedy, and cynical, but he’s usually right about how the world works, and his priorities are hard to disagree with entirely. He knows how to survive, even when treated like dirt for centuries. Ratman’s got a particular brand of wisdom, if you look past the ringworm.

Catgirl. In other versions, she looks like she’s in elementary or middle school, and 6th anime is the most mature she’s ever looked. This is also Catgirl at her most tsundere, but with zero “mean girl” tendencies. All it takes is Mana shooting pure admiration at Catgirl for them to become friends, and that’s cute. I always like Catgirl, and the 6th anime is no exception.

The Kitaro Family. Sandy’s mostly unchanged, except now she doesn’t own the Youkai Apartments, and can use modern technology to make a shitload of money. Old Crybaby is 100% the same, down to his old person banter with Sandy.

Rollo Cloth’s minor interest in finding a girlfriend got turned up to 11. He’d get a lecture from every previous Rollo.

Wally Wall has less vocabulary, no wife and kids, and they thankfully didn’t show his mouth this time. Still a good dude.

Mana Inuyama. The 3rd anime had Yumeko, but even if she wasn’t damseled as often as you’d expect from a typical 80s cartoon, it still happened a lot. In the 6th anime, Mana clearly has more agency from the get-go, and refuses to leave herself out of Kitaro’s business. She’s serious about being his friend, and never stops being serious about it, even when things worse than she could ever imagine happened.

All she has are good memories with Kitaro.

Like my friend said, she’s too good for this world.

What’s your overall and concluding thoughts about the 6th Kitaro anime?

What an emotional roller coaster. The writers pulled no punches with this, and very much managed to make “their own Kitaro” while still firmly being “Kitaro.” With the dark and cynical twists it sometimes took, I often didn’t know if there’s be a happy ending to an episode, or a bitter one. It’s a Sunday morning cartoon at its core, but very good at making the audience forget that.

6th Kitaro was my introduction to Kitaro as a whole, and I was hopelessly obsessed by episode 14. Well, because of episode 14, probably. I downloaded all the other Kitaro anime series, got into the comics (official ones by Mizuki, official ones not by Mizuki, and a shit-ton of doujin), and now my brain is just “kitarokitarokitaro” all the time.

I don’t think it’s going to stop anytime soon.

#gegege no kitaro #ask #books-are-my-life-stuff #long post

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taylorroger-s · 5 years ago

Text

𝔢𝔵 𝔫𝔦𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔬 // a six underground story

----- ｐｒｏｌｏｇｕｅ -----

a/n i don’t want to preface this too much but this isn’t really a fanfic? there’s no pairing at the focus, and it’s really just a story in the 6u world because there is no way i’m letting micheal bay waste the potential of 6u. I worked extremely hard on this and the later missions and i’m really proud of it! so i hope you enjoy, there is much more to come! so here’s my masterlist, and no warnings except for swearing. enjoy :)

‎

𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚎𝚒𝚖 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚖, 𝙽𝚈𝙲 ----------

‎

“nine, you have to get out of there.” one hisses into his headset, drawing the attention of the waiting driver. she rolls her eyes, anxiously scanning the block for any law enforcement or her team.

“you think i don’t fucking know that? but y’all better get your asses over here. feds are swarming even on the other side of the park.” nine gritts her teeth at every police cruiser slithering by, their flashing lights only adding to her growing anxiety.

“my hands are kinda full right now!” four shouts, breathing heavily into his microphone. things went south fast, and even their planned escape had been shaky at best. the mission failed and they need to get out of the city fast.

“get over here, and i’ll get you out. remember, i’m on columbus and west 92nd in front of the party city. ten minutes. now make like ghosts and disappear.”

‎

𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 & 𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚗 𝚗𝚎𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚊

‎

tires squealed against the beat-up asphalt as two early model corvettes shot down an empty stretch of highway 75. bitter cold nebraska winter winds cut through to the bone as the pair curved around a rough bend of road surrounded on both sides by sprawling fields. the sun hung low on the horizon, struggling to light up the endless farmland. the only sound within ten miles was the roar of combustion engines mingling with crickets chirping as they passed by.

“cmon,” a woman muttered to her car, eyes narrowed as she scanned the makeshift racetrack. she couldn’t make out the taunt called out to her from the other driver, responding only with a raised middle finger and a sharp push on the accelerator. her car’s heavily modified engine purred under her touch, advancing on her opponent’s ride.

a window of opportunity finally appeared before her. she was no more than a foot behind him, another bend visible in her peripheral vision. exhaling slowly, she brought her left foot from hovering over the clutch to the brake. the turn came closer, wrapping around a hill. she could just about hear the squeal of her opponent’s brakes, pressing on her brake at the same time. they hurtled around the bend at dangerous speeds. coming out of the turn, her opponent switched his right foot from the brake to the gas pedal to accelerate out of the turn. but her foot was already there, giving her just a fraction of a second edge over his car. her ride edged up on his, a devilish grin spreading across her lips.

just as her dark red car was about to overtake his, the flash of distant headlights made them both freeze. she wanted to scream in frustration, but there was no time to think, lest she wanted to risk a head on collision. she very reluctantly pulled in behind his car, various scenarios for vengeance cycling through her head. their race was over. she had lost.

the semi truck passed them by without a second look, and after a few minutes the pair pulled into a decades old rest stop. the woman ran her fingers across the smooth dashboard of her car, thumb brushing over a small mark right by the unused radio. they made it fifteen miles before their race was rudely interrupted. a sudden knock on the windshield stirred her from her thoughts.

“too slow once again darling.” the man cooed, poisonous edge to his words. that was the third race she’d lost to him in six weeks. it was starting to damage her reputation as a notorious street racer in an innocuous corner of small-town america. the mechanics shop she worked for was the not-so-clever front of their racing circle - essentially the only friends she had - wherein she was the best. at least until that start up showed his face in gretna, nebraska- of all places.

“oh fuck off.” she grumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the last rays of the sun sinking below the horizon, plunging the rest stop into a chilling darkness. the sky was just beginning to show the shimmer of distant stars, rolling across the countryside in a thick blanket of night. constellations blinked into existence against the dark. a saying from her latin classes in college came to mind: natura non constristatur. nature doesn’t give a shit about you.

“as you wish. same time next week?” her rival called, already waltzing back to his car, hood shimmering silver in the burgeoning moonlight, a small rosary and fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. it was about ten years newer than hers, but not nearly as slick. at least in her opinion.

“one week and i’m gonna destroy your ass.” she responded, words almost drowned out by the subsequent start of his decades old engine. he loudly revved it a few times, overtaking any words she could possibly try to curse him with. there were a few choice latin phrases she had stored up.

“in your dreams!” he shouted, pulling onto the road and heading north, back to her hometown. and so she was left alone with her thoughts, only finding company in the infinite sky and hum of wildlife. the cold winter night started to pick away at her fading adrenaline, causing her teeth to quietly chatter as her eyes stayed focused on the heavens. what was she doing? she would never get out of nebraska, and her life would all be for nothing. but before she could fully spiral into existentialism, the allure of her bed came to mind; an area much more comfortable than the freezing drivers seat of her 1986 corvette.

she tore her eyes away from the nighttime sky with a huff, hand drifting to the gearshift. she started the engine, slowly moving the car into reverse. she didn’t think to check in the rearview mirror until a shout rang out over the hum. she slammed her foot on the brake, just before hitting whoever decided to fucking walk behind a moving car. the anger slowly simmering below the skin after her loss decided to boil over. she hopped out of the car before she even turned off the engine to tell off the prick who decided to ruin her moping.

"what the fuck man?” she was fuming so much the mystery figure could probably see the smoke pouring from her ears. she couldn’t quite make out their face since the only lamp within five miles lit them from behind. crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned against the trunk of the car, glaring at the intruder while she waited for an answer.

“wasn’t expecting that reaction. hello-” okay so definitely a guy, she thought, squinting harder to try and make out his face. he brushed off his pants before looking up at her, face obscured by shadow and sunglasses. at night. the tone of his voice irked her; infuriatingly playful even in the weird circumstances.

“what the hell are you doing out here?” she growled, bracing her hands on the burnished metal of her car. her nails tapped rhythmically against it, shifting her expression to appear as calm and intimidating as possible. there wasn’t another car visible in the parking lot as far as she could tell, and the man certainly didn’t appear to be a fallen angel. how and why was he there? but there was another, more concerning question picking at her mind: if he was there for her, how did he find her?

“is that how you always greet strangers?” the man quipped, still avoiding her question. a stranger was exactly what he was. general knowledge suggested to not talk to strangers, especially in an empty rest stop parking lot. in the middle of nowhere. fear crept up on her as the man smiled, whispering worries in her ear the longer he dodged her questions.

“what do you want?” she gritted her teeth, fingers slowly curling into fists. her instincts kicked into high gear as he took a few steps closer. his hands were tucked into his back pockets, and he looked disturbingly nonchalant as he approached her.

"heard about your racing. pretty good from what i’ve heard." now that threw her for a loop. why did he want to hear about her racing? however, logic was soon overshadowed by a wave of pride and she lifted her chin, looking straight into the man’s eyes through his sunglasses. it was too dark to glean anything from his expression, but she didn’t waver. she was better than pretty good.

"the best. now who's asking?" she nearly spat the last words out through gritted teeth, pushing off the car and taking a step forward. the man smiled at her bravado, crossing his arms over his chest.

"i have a job for you." she scoffed, shaking her head. it suddenly popped into her mind that he could be a criminal looking for a getaway driver or a scapegoat. but the seed of curiosity burrowing inside her brain won out.

"so you mind going into specifics?" she questioned him with heavy doubt in her voice.

"not here cupcake. but i need a driver.” the illegal path seemed more and more likely. ‘not here’ oh yeah, not suspicious at all. she was tempted to shut the conversation straight down and run, but there was nothing she could really lose by hearing more. worst case scenario, she gets frostbite and maybe put on a hit list. best case? there was no way of knowing.

"and why me?"

"like you said, you’re the best. and you have next to nothing tying you here. your skill is being wasted, but i can fix that. i can give you a cause to believe in. so how would you like a chance to actually change the world?" that stopped her. she hadn’t done anything worthwhile in a very, very long time. and believing in something? that was a distant memory. she didn’t believe in this man either.

"aquila non capit muscas. i’m not here for your nonsense.” she was aware that quoting her latin professor would earn herself an eye roll from the mystery man, but she wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries nor dreamy exaggerations. she was starting to think he was insane. and yet, something in his words tugged at her heart. he sounded suddenly sincere. it was like he had read her mind.

“okay shakespeare, there certainly is some nonsense in this offer, sure. but it’s your best shot to get out of here. i am offering you freedom from everything holding you back.” five seconds passed. ten. fifteen. thirty. she mulled over his words over and over again, quickly disregarding how horribly vague they were. there really was no reason to take him seriously, and he had provided no details into this “job” which was starting to sound more and more illegal.

still. she turned to look at her car, scanning all its dents and imperfections. so many memories, so much history that had slowly made her jaded and cynical. so much to break free from. even though there was no evidence that this job was worth it, or that his promise of freedom rang true, she was tired of the bullshit.

“i’m listening.” a sharp smile spread across his lips, and he nodded.

"good. but there's one thing i need you to do before we get started. i need you to die"

-----

hey mary, and whoever else is reading. i guess this is goodbye. sorry you had to find out this way.

it doesn’t matter what i once wanted to be. i didn’t get it. but this is what i want. i promise. i’m sorry to ghost you. but this is what’s right for me. see you on the flip side.

faking her death was almost disturbingly simple. a burning car at the base of a ravine, suicide note found just outside the melted frame. no reason to pursue an investigation. attending her funeral was the most surreal part. until then, the weight of her decision hadn't felt real. she watched as her sister, her coworkers, and even her racing rival said their last goodbyes at what they thought was her final resting place. she couldn’t watch anymore when her sister began to sob, and the man, who had identified himself as one, dragged her away before she had a chance to break down

the night before she faked her death, she sat on her bedroom floor, chopping off locks of hair and silently contemplating what she was about to do. the rules that one gave her were simple in theory, but horribly complicated in reality.

cities you have never been to. people you have never met. numbers instead of names. only talk to your fellow ghosts. plural. she was about to be thrown in with a band of hungry revolutionaries with similar shady pasts. at least, she assumed that's who she would find once one took her to the last home she would ever know. last home. she cycled through the pros and cons for the hundredth time, weighing them over and over.

no more taxes. no more criminal background. no crazy ex chasing her. no expectations to leave behind. pure freedom, if she followed the rules of course. the homegrown american girl she once was would die, and in her place: nine.

cons? those were a little more iffy. her sister mary was a senior in highschool and just turned 18. mary was all she had left, and vice versa. even though mary was technically an adult and could fend for herself, she still felt guilty. more of her hair fluttered to the ground. if she was going to have a new name, she might as well get new hair. it was rough around the edges, horribly uneven, and made it look as though she had lost a fight with a weed whacker. fitting.

not too long after, she was in a plane on her way to nowhere. she was completely alone in the cabin, one piloting from the cockpit. nine was mesmerized by the sprawling land thousands of feet below as they moved west. it was her first, but definitely not her last time on a plane.

was it insane? yes. was it almost a certain ticket to an actual early grave? definitely. and yet, every time she finished looking through her list, there was only one outcome that came out of it all. a death with more meaning than her life would ever bring. she would miss her sister, and the few friends left behind, but for the first time in a long time, the apathy faded away.

‎

𝚏𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚊 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝 ----------

‎

“alright motherfuckers, i finally got our asses a driver.” one called out into the dark belly of the old aircraft, lit only by a few glowing screens. nine followed him in, holding tight to her small duffel bag full of the only possessions one let her take, the logo of her high school plastered on the side.

“wow, only took you six months.” one flipped on a light switch, turning on a few lightbulbs in the center of the room, illuminating six figures gathered around a rusted metal table. each one looked like they were from a completely different planet.

“thank you for the attitude four, i hate it.” one cheerfully pointed to a chiseled blond man wearing a worn blue hoodie. she assumed rightly that he was four, and based on the accent, also british. she idly wondered how he ended up in the same place she was, or in the same place as the rest of one’s mismatched crew. a crew that she was now a part of.

“six was already too fucking much. then seven. and now eight.” a slightly scary, tall blonde woman spoke, thick french accent coating her words. despite the venom, it almost looked like she had never moved her lips, an eerily blank expression stuck on her face. nine suddenly felt extraordinarily childish with her “gretna dragons” bag, the faded green fabric full of pulled strings and various stains. just the way she stood make nine feel in over her head. one took it all in stride.

“well i don’t see you volunteering to give up your handguns and get in the driver's seat, and eventually you agreed to eight for the same reason, so shush.” nine looked between one and two, and their silent standoff. two rolled her eyes, essentially surrendering to nine’s presence. nine let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. she had a feeling it would be a shit idea to be on that woman’s bad side.

“this is nine. nine, this is two, three, four, five, seven, and eight.” one pointed to them each in turn: the tall blonde woman, a hispanic man with a full beard, the startlingly attractive blond man, a woman with aviator sunglasses hanging from her shirt, a tall dark-skinned man who seemed much less stony than the others, and a tall girl wearing an excessive amount of leather. but there was something else that worried her more than the mismatched group one presented. a number was skipped.

“wait, could i get a quick rundown of who does what?” nine assumed there was a reason for each person to be there.

“i’m a billionaire and…”

“i’m blaine. that’s camille, javier, billy, amelia, and sofia” seven - blaine - cut one off. nine was caught off guard; it seemed one declined to mention that ‘numbers instead of names’ were more of a formality for the rest of the team. the rules she was told must have been one’s original vision.

“seven-” one tried to silence blaine, but was stopped with a glare. apparently one was equally against the names as seven was with numbers. it was intriguing, but nine wasn’t willing to dig further into his mind, nor was she okay with sharing her name. she wanted to leave everything behind.

“nope, she’s part of the team now. numbers are for missions. what’s your name?” she seized up, eyes moving to each person to identify names with faces, something she had never been good at. numbers just seemed so much simpler.

“no.” nine responded flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. seven froze, but held his hands up in surrender. one nodded approvingly to nine, and continued with his explanation of everyone’s roles.

“she knows what’s up. now, two is the spy, three is the hitman, four is the skywalker…” though one’s titles didn’t give extraordinary detail, having ‘the skywalker’ as a job description was simply puzzling.

“the hell does that mean?” she asked, eyes flicking just for a moment over to four before returning to one.

“he does parkour, five is the doctor, seven is the sniper, eight is the scout, and you are…” one continued without missing a breath, and nine suspected he predicted that question. four caught her eye and winked.

“the driver?” the sly smiles suddenly slipped from the ghost’s faces as they exchanged guarded looks. nine had a sinking feeling as to why.

“that was six, our last driver. let’s hope you avoid the same fate.” his grim words carried a little-too-lighthearted tone. well that’s reassuring, she thought. not worrying at all. one rubbed his hands together, walking over to one of the walls in their airplane shell meeting room. nine pieces of paper were on the wall, eight of them with roman numerals going up from two, and one with a photo of a man who had a giant red x on his face. his face tugged at nine’s memory. he must have been on the news. this operation might just be bigger than she expected.

“gather around the fire, cleavers, target two. corporate mogul noah kenneth carpenter,” one took down the page labeled “ii” and behind it hung a photo of the titular capitalistic businessman. nine felt like she was about to hurl. she knew that face. any guilt for leaving faded away in one fell swoop; this was the vengeance she yearned for. her sister mourned her loss, but nine could now strike back stronger than the girl she was could ever dream of.

“been accused of fraud, sexual harassment, shady international dealings, labor abuse. textbook scumbag, yet rich enough to keep himself in the clear. and we’re going to take him down. there are three simple steps, except there’s more than three and they’re not simple.” there was a beat of silence after that, which nine used to take a closer look at her new teammates. three had his feet propped up on the table, two standing behind his chair with her hand on his shoulder. four leaned forward on his elbows, green eyes focused on one. five had her arms crossed over her chest, and seven had his attention focused on one’s presentation, posture perfectly straight.

“what’s the first of these not-so-simple steps?” eight asked, picking at the thin blade of a small knife in her hands. she was a step behind the others, on the other side of seven. no longer the newest on the team, but still separate from what nine could tell. she couldn’t help but feel for the other girl.

“glad you asked kiddo,” one grinned, a dangerous edge to his expression. “nine, i’m assuming you heard of the major disruption of the peace in florence eight months ago, and the subsequent coup in turgistan?” there was something bordering pride in his voice. nine could see small, sharp smiles from the ghosts as they glanced to each other.

“vaguely, not much international shit made its way to me.” that was true. local news stations only showed things like county fairs and local robberies on the rare occasions nine would turn on the tv, and she didn’t care enough to go in search of global issues that didn’t concern her.

“well that was us, and this is about to be on a similar scale. except for the unstable geopolitical aftermath. probably.” nine raised her eyebrows. it was difficult to wrap her head around these six underground vigilantes rocking the boat with nothing but varying, potentially deadly, specializations. it made her even more curious as to what she could do with them, and what she could do to noah carpenter.

“anyway, the mission. the ultimate goal is to get him locked away, preferably not dead so he can rot in federal prison, but you can never tell with two and three on the squad,” two and three glared at one in unison, three miming slitting someone’s throat, but one just smiled. nine was starting to catch on to the group dynamics.

“but before kenny can get a messy prison tat, we have to dig up some major dirt on him. something to destroy his legacy, drag his company through the mud, take away everything he took from the people.” nine could feel a dark smile spreading across her lips. a cause to believe in indeed.

“so, there’s a big tech meeting thing in new york next month, and we are going to be there, along with mister exploitation over here,” one gestured crudely to the photo of carpenter pinned roughly to the thin wall. the sneer on the businessman’s face made nine’s blood boil. she was already on board with whatever the plan was going to be, and couldn’t wait to lend her driving skills to take him down.

“what skyscraper am i crawling up now?” four sounded uninterested, cocking his head to the side.

“it’s the guggenheim, and you’re not exactly crawling, more like sneaking. step one is going to be infiltrating. i have gotten intel saying that some shady deal is going down between him and a foreign mogul guy. we need to hear it all. the following missions are a little more iffy, and if we don’t find any dirt or evidence… well this is gonna take longer than anticipated.”

“this is almost as vague as our last plan.” three quipped, idly invested in the small pistol in his palm. he aimed it at various spots around the room with disinterest, to which everyone responded by ducking and dodging his aim.

“and that’s how i like it. no logical order means no one will expect what is coming.” nine just blinked at one in astonishment. her fantasies of justice tilted towards the farfetched with one’s confident admission of having no foolproof evidence to jump off of.

“doesn’t that make it harder for us?” nine asked, unsettled by how calm everyone else seemed to be. her initial worries about one’s offer being vague came back to the forefront of nine’s mind. her instincts on the night she met one might have been more accurate than she realized, but she was in much too deep to change her mind.

“you get used to it,” two admitted. nine almost flinched when she heard the slightly scary blonde woman speak. the comfort caught nine off guard more than two’s words.

“now here is what our first mission is gonna play out…” one pulled out blueprints from a box under the table. pens and sharpies in hand, he started to draw out how their mission would go. he was about to start talking when he looked over his shoulder to see nine still standing a few feet from the group. he flashed her a winning smile and beckoned nine forward. the rest of the group was facing her, softening towards their newest ghost. here goes nothing.

nine took a deep breath in, then out, and took a step forward, officially leaving the past behind and entering her new death.

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

yaydyfyaydfyasoudfhasode it’s posted!!! I have the first chapter underway and way too many ideas for how this is going to go. but here’s some hints for the future: a sparring scene, city traffic, hiding in a castle and much tension to come! stay tuned :)

lmk if you want to be on the taglist!

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beanburrito1015 · 5 years ago

Text

An analysis on The Ballad of Cleopatra by The Lumineers

The Ballad of Cleopatra is a short film by the American Folk Rock band, “The Lumineers”. The short film combines the music videos of five of their songs (from their album titled “Cleopatra”) together to tell the story of a taxi driver that the lead singer met and dubbed -you guessed it- Cleopatra. Separately, each music video tells it’s own story, all of them (except for Ophelia) with a woman at a different age as the main character. The Lumineers released each music video separately and out of the story’s “chronological order”, reinforcing the idea to the fans that they weren’t connected at all. However, once the band released the 24 minute Ballad on YouTube a little over a year after the album was put out, the full story started to take shape.

The moral of The Ballad of Cleopatra is “ifs”, “regrets”,“what could have beens” of life and it leaves you asking yourself what you truly value in life. Personally, it made me rethink every choice I have ever made up to this point in my life. So without further ado, the Ballad begins with the song “Ophelia”.

Ophelia sets the scene for the rest of the video. It starts out with the band performing at an event. Wesley Schultz, the lead singer, is playing the tambourine. He takes a short pause, then splits into two different versions of himself, one stays to finish the performance and the other leaves the venue, and starts dancing around the town. This is the first of many “splitting-into-two-versions-of-one’s-self” in the video. He eventually winds down his dancing, and gets into a taxi cab, consequently introducing us to the main character of the story. They chat for the duration of the ride, and although no words are actually heard, you can tell that whatever story the taxi driver is telling to Wesley is full of emotion, judging by the expressions they both make. The driver drops him off at a motel, and the Ballad begins.

The song “Cleopatra” begins to play as it shows passengers coming in and out of Cleopatra’s cab. Some we will see again, some just background characters, but all have their own unique story.

So I drive a taxi, and the traffic distracts me

From the strangers in my backseat,

They remind me of you

Cleopatra drops a couple off at the airport, and picks up her adult-looking son. It is evident that they have a strong relationship with each other, as they seem to enjoy each other’s company, laughing and smiling the whole time, and the camera shows all the pictures of her son that she has in her cab. They drive around until it’s dark, stopping for burgers on the way. Eventually it is time for the son to go to his father’s house. Cleopatra looks disappointed, but understanding. She drops her son off, and we see the first of many “what ifs”. Cleopatra splits into two versions of herself, the imaginary version going up to her ex-lover, talking to him and making amends. Realistically, it would be odd if she did that with no prior warning, but you can tell that, against all reasoning or logic, she wants to do it. But alas, the real version of her only gives the father a longing look, and gets back into her taxi. Cleopatra transforms into the youngest version of herself, and her backstory begins.

The piano melody “Patience” plays as Cleopatra talks to people at her father’s funeral. Her boyfriend stares, walks up to her, gives her a big hug, and whispers into her ear, “if we don’t leave now, you may never make it out”.

‘Cause if we don’t leave this town

We might never make it out

I was not born to drown

Baby come on

The song “Sleep on the Floor” starts playing. Cleopatra splits into two versions of herself again, the real her staying at the funeral, and the imaginary her running off with her boyfriend. But wait, that wouldn’t make any sense! She couldn’t just leave the rest of her family to grieve and take care of everything while she goes off! That would be unfair. That being said, love doesn’t make sense. Love goes against all common sense and reasoning. When you love someone, nothing else matters except for them. Why wouldn’t she leave with her boyfriend? I mean come on, they are in love. It goes on to show their imaginary life together. They buy a car and travel past state lines, never looking back. Sleeping in motels and on random stranger’s couches, they really don’t have much, but they have each other, and that’s all that really matters to them. The montage of struggles continues. Their car breaks down, they get into arguments, they eat Ramen for dinner, but despite it all, they are as in love with each other as always. They decide to get married on a whim, and celebrate the night away. As they lay in bed, Cleopatra stares into the camera, and the scene shifts back to the version of her that stayed, what actually happened, driving in her car, with a somber look. She then transforms once again into a different age, ten years older now.

The song “Angela” begins. Cleopatra is laying in bed with her husband, showing off her very pregnant belly. She sits up and looks at her sleeping husband. Although they are obviously together, she isn’t in love. This isn’t the man she wanted to end up with. She splits into the two versions of herself. The real version getting back in bed, and the imaginary version leaving her husband behind. She gets into the car. She drives all night and into the morning, stopping at a motel. She gets out of the car and gets a room, but not before she looks into the sky, smiles, dances around, and for the first time in a long time, feels completely free.

Oh Angela it’s a long time coming

Oh Angela spent your whole life running

Home at last

A taxi drops 75 year old Cleopatra off at a nursing home, and “My Eyes”, the final song of the ballad begins. She is greeted by a worker who walks her to her new room. She sits on the bed and stares out the window with a sense of yearning, almost as if she is reflecting on everything that brought her to this point.

Too young to know, too old to admit

That you couldn’t see how it ends

She tells stories to the nurses, knowing her time is coming. For the last time, she splits into two versions of herself. One stays in the wheelchair, the other walks down the halls of the nursing home. Each age of Cleopatra is shown walking down the hall in place of the current Cleopatra, for a split second each, signifying the growth she has gone through and the experience she has gained throughout her life. She looks back one last time to where she came from, and then takes a step into the darkness.

This hauntingly beautiful tale of a simple taxi driver has so many lessons in it. There is not a single life story that sounds like the next one. Through the heartache and pain, the moments of pure ecstasy and joy, we all learn a thing or two on this journey called life. It’s always an interesting thing to wonder how our lives could be different if we had taken another path. But no matter how many times we wonder ‘what could have been’, no matter how many regrets we have, it is impossible to undo what has already been done. And personally, I think that is the beauty of life. The beauty that although we might not be where we thought we should be, it’s where we were supposed to be all along.

#music #the lumineers

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angelbabylu · 6 years ago

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Birthday Present // CH

pairing: reader x calum

warnings: fluff, smut towards the very end so you can skip it if you want, an itsy bitsy bit of angst

word count: 5.5k ish

notes: this was really supposed to be a short fic about you and Cal fucking for his birthday but my brain decided to add an extra 3 thousand words of plot so??? which is also why i’m posting this more than a week after his birthday haha. also i’m the only one who has edited this so if you find mistakes let me know so i can fix them.

---

Calum was on the couch across from Luke idly plucking at his bass strings. The two of them were supposed to be working on the rhythm and lyrics for a song Luke had written a few days before. They had only been together for five minutes before it became clear they were both not in the mood to get anything done.

His eyes flickered from Calum to the notebook in his lap, where his handwriting was scrawled, barely decipherable, pen ink smeared from the tears he had cried while writing it. They were lyrics about a stupid fight he and Sierra were both too stubborn to apologize to each other about. This never got easier for him - putting himself in his lyrics like this. But what was he supposed to write about if not himself?

Sighing, he looked back up at Calum whose random plucking had yet to become a discernable bassline. Calum wasn’t getting anywhere with the rhythm and Luke didn’t want to put any effort into finishing the lyrics. With the wound still fresh, it was hard for him to put words to his pain. He decided to make an attempt, anyway.

“What do you think about this,” he said, trying to grab Calum’s attention before reading off the pre-chorus idea that had been stuck in his head for the past few days.

He looked up to Calum for his advice. It was no secret that Calum was a crazy talented songwriter. Luke almost always deferred to his judgment on these things. But Calum was not paying attention to him. Instead, he was miles away, smiling at what Luke hoped wasn’t the lyrics about heartbreak.

Luke had to call his name three times before his eyes refocused, locking with Luke’s for the first time that session.

“Huh?” he asked, trying to seem as if he was listening along. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that last part.”

“I said, what do you think about the pre-chorus?”

“Yeah, it’s really – “

Before he could come up with a bullshit answer to pretend he had been listening, Luke leveled him with a glare.

Calum’s mouth snapped shut.

“Sorry,” he grimaced.

Luke closed his notebook and relaxed back into the loveseat. Honestly, he was thankful for a reason not to think about the lyrics or how much he missed Sierra. “Want to tell me what you were thinking about?”

“No, man.” Calum was replying, removing the bass from his lap and placing it in the stand next to the couch. “Today’s supposed to be about you. Run those lyrics by me one more time.”

Luke really didn’t want to, so instead he took a guess. “Were you thinking about (Y/N)?”

(Y/N) was a friend of the band. They had met her at a party in West Hollywood early last year where they all became fast friends. On New Year’s a few weeks ago, Luke, Calum, and Ashton ended up at the same party as her. Calum had mentioned a few times that he regretted not kissing her that night. Luke, knowing what a hopeless romantic Calum was, guessed that was what had him smiling and staring off into space.

Calum blushed and tried to hide his face at the mention of her name.

“Calum,” Luke couldn’t help his teasing tone. He was so gone for her it was cute. “(Y/N)? Seriously?”

Next thing he knew, the pillow closest to Calum was sailing through the air and hitting him in the face.

“Shut up,” Cal grumbled, the smile and the blush never leaving his face. “I never said anything about how vomit-inducing you were with Sierra.”

Luke threw the pillow back at him with a little bit more force than necessary. “Actually, you did.” Calum, Michael, and Ashton had teased him about her for months. “But let’s not talk about Sierra.”

He could see the second Calum remembered why they were in the studio, the second he remembered the lyrics they were supposed to be working on that day.

Calum’s lips twitched downward into a small worried frown; then, he was sitting forward, elbows coming to rest on his knees. Luke instantly recognized these motions as signs of Calum wanting to have a talk. “Luke,” He said, voice softening as if he thought that speaking too loud would re-break Luke’s heart. “You and Sierra will be fine. Why don’t you just call her and talk to her?”

Luke shook his head. He didn’t want to be the first one to reach out to her. Yes, his behavior was childish and stubborn, but so was hers. He hadn’t heard a peep from her in two weeks, the longest they’ve ever gone without speaking to each other. The worst part is that she left L.A. to visit her dad and none of her friends seemed to know when she would be back. This meant that their old song and dance of getting mad at each other then running into each other at Ashton’s house and instantly apologizing wasn’t going to work this time.

Luke didn’t want to think about it, so again he tried to change the subject.

“Your birthday is coming up! What are we doing?”

Luke watched as Calum decided whether he should go along with Luke’s misdirection or attempt to have it out about how Luke was feeling.

“Fuck my birthday.”

He released a sigh in relief as Calum chose the second option.

“I’d be happy to just stay at home and sleep,” Calum continued truthfully.

“You’re so fucking boring, man. Are you turning 23 or 40?”

Calum rolled his eyes, “75 actually.” He was probably tired of how often his friends called him an old man. Not that Calum didn’t enjoy a good party - he was just more lowkey than Luke or Ashton. “You guys’ll be pretty pissed if I don’t have a party, huh?”

“It’s not like we need an excuse to party - but it’s nice to have one. Besides, it’s not every day that you turn 23. We should celebrate!”

“There’s also nothing exciting about turning 23. It’s not like 21 or 18. If I spend this one birthday getting drunk on my couch and watching Bojack Horseman, it’s not like I’m going to regret it.”

A part of Luke didn’t want to push Calum too hard. It was his birthday. But a louder, more selfish part wanted a party. Anything to take his mind off Sierra. Plus, if he was clever, he could plan a party both he and Calum could benefit from.

“How about this? You throw a party, I’ll invite (Y/N).”

Calum pretended to take a minute to consider - but Luke knew there was no way Calum would turn him down.

His answer was, “Don’t be weird about it.”

Luke was confused. “Huh?”

“Don’t be weird about inviting (Y/N). Don’t tell her that I’m only having a party so I’d get to see her or something weird like that.”

Calum knew Luke too well. “Yeah of course,” Luke lied, hoping Calum would bite. “I’ll just tell her I need company or something, because of the whole Sierra situation.”

“Okay.”

Hook, line, and sinker. “Okay?” He didn’t bother concealing his excitement. “We’re having a party?”

“Yeah.” Calum sighed. “Let’s have a fucking party.”

---

Calum was not enjoying his party. He had invited 100 people, but there were close to 200 packed into his living room alone, even more milling around in the kitchen. There were people in his house that he barely knew and definitely had not imagined spending his birthday with. He couldn’t even move around his living room without someone bumping into him. When a girl whose face he didn’t even recognize tried to start a conversation with him, he finally had too much. Before she could even begin speaking, he turned around and pushed through the crowd towards his backyard.

The most annoying part of this entire birthday party ordeal was Luke.

Hours after they had decided on the party, Sierra showed up at Luke’s door with tears and apologies. No matter how many times Calum had spoken to Luke since then, he couldn’t seem to get a concrete answer on whether or not he had invited (Y/N). His mind was all Sierra all the time. Calum didn’t have it in his heart to feel anything more than mild annoyance, however, knowing how much the two-week spat had affected his best friend.

Now, Luke was probably off with Sierra somewhere, and Calum was heading outside alone with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

A lit cigarette in hand, he leaned his forearms on the railing of his deck, his back to the party going on inside his house. He should have kissed (Y/N) when he had the chance on New Years. The more he tried not to think about it, the more the thought stayed at the forefront of his mind. In truth, it was all he had thought about in the three weeks since then. He needed to see her again. Desperately. Before his mind started writing lyrics about it.

“You do not look like you’re enjoying your own party.”

He turned so fast, his cigarette almost flew out of his hand. If he believed in that sort of thing, he would have thought her an answer to his prayers.

“I’m not,” he said, trying to control the widening grin that contradicted the somberness of his words. “Too many people.”

“Oh definitely.” She was like him, her willingness to be in a crowd very dependent on her mood.

“You know,” he began, gesturing with his cigarette, ash flicking off the edge. “There are people here tonight that I’ve never even met? They walked in saying ‘It’s your birthday!’ and I had to restrain myself from saying, ‘Yeah I know that, do you?’”

She laughed, and he hated how he was so gone for her that even her laugh made his heart jump.

“Maybe they were asking you - to make sure that they were at the right house, you know?”

Calum snickered. “It’s your birthday?” He mocked, exaggerating the question.

“So it is your birthday! Perfect, that means I have the right house.”

It was a dumb joke, but it had her giggling at him, so he counted it as a win.

“Do you want me to go kick them out?” She asked after a beat. “I totally would.” And she would. That’s one of the things he liked the most about her. She didn’t really care what other people thought. Which was perfect, because it could be said that he cared too much.

“Nah,” He responded. “But keep me company, maybe?” He couldn’t care less what was happening in his house at that moment. Not if she was out there with him.

“Of course.”

A moment passed where they both just stood, smiling at each other, soaking up this nearness they hadn’t shared since New Year’s. There was a magnetism about her that had Calum taking a few steps closer. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here,” he was saying, and he hated how something about her presence pulled confessions from him. He hated even more how desperate he was for her to feel the same.

“Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Well,” Calum began to explain. “I know Luke invited you because he didn’t want to be alone after the whole Sierra thing. . .”

At the look on her face, he trailed off. The way she bit her lip to hide a grimace suggested that Luke hadn’t invited her as his plus one.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “What did he say to you?”

Anxious for her answer, he took a drag of his cigarette, giving his mouth something to do. He knew he should have invited her himself. He shouldn’t have trusted Luke not to embarrass him.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she asked, already pulling her cell phone from her pocket.

Calum wasn’t, but he nodded anyway.

He immediately cringed as she started to read. “Calum desperately wants you at his party, but he’s too afraid to ask you himself. Please come and make out with him or something. Put the man out of his misery.”

“Fuck,” Calum groaned, dragging out the word, before taking another puff of his cigarette. He was going to murder Luke.

(Y/N) must have seen the murderous intent on his face - or perhaps the flush of embarrassment - because she was smiling sweetly and stepping closer to him and saying, “Well it worked, didn’t it? I’m here.”

She was there, despite the very embarrassing text she had received. He was about to ask what that meant for them when she shivered and pushed her hand into the pocket at the front of her hoodie.

“You’re cold,” he said, and before he could think better of it he followed up with, “Want to share my jacket?”

They both blushed at the implications of his words. Then, in true (Y/N) like fashion, she teased him about it. “Are you putting the moves on me, Hood?”

Calum considered shooting back a teasing joke of his own, but he needed to know, “Is it working?”

“Yeah,” she breathed out, crossing the few steps between them, wrapping her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. Calum’s heart fluttered as his chest touched hers, one arm reaching up and around her, pulling her closer. He had to breathe in deep to keep his emotions in check. He realized too late that taking a deep breath was a bad idea. Her scent, her touch - his senses were overflowing with her.

It didn’t help that his mind was racing a million miles an hour, going over everything that happened in the past 5 minutes with her, making sure that he wasn’t misreading anything. He wanted to ask her what it all meant, that she came despite the embarrassing text, that she stood in front of him, arms around his waist, face on his chest.

She distracted him from the question again by groaning, “Fuck, you’re always so warm,” and melting further into his chest. “My hands are freezing. Do you mind if I-?” She was pushing up the back of his shirt, asking for skin-to-skin contact.

He doesn’t hesitate before saying, “Yeah, of course.”

But, as soon as her hands touched his back, he was jumping away from her and she was laughing as he shivered.

“Goddamn,” he exclaimed. With the hand not holding the cigarette, he reached for hers, rubbing her icy fingers with his thumb. “Why are you so cold?”

“I warned you!”

“I know. I just wasn’t expecting it, is all.” He popped the cigarette into his mouth so he could have both hands free. Then, he grabbed each of her hands in each of his and rubbed them together, before ushering them back beneath his jacket and his shirt. When the cold of her fingers hit his skin for the second time, he barely flinched. His right arm came around her again, the left taking the cigarette from her mouth.

The stood quietly for a moment before he realized, “You are the perfect height for me to rest my chin on your head.”

She squeezed him tighter, then dislodged his head from hers by leaning her head away and looking up to meet his eyes.

“To quote Luke,” and he knew exactly where she was going with that statement.

“Throwing some cheddar in the works here.” They both finished together with a laugh.

“Sorry. Just something about you makes me such a fucking cliche.” He immediately had to stick his cigarette back into his mouth to avoid saying anything else he would eventually regret.

She watched as he avoided speaking with one puff and then another.

“Those things will kill you, you know.”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “You smoke more than I do.”

“Yeah,” She sighed. “We should try quitting again, maybe?”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, they’re both laughing again. They had both tried to quit late last year. It did not go very well. It was two weeks before she was caving and three weeks before he followed suit.

“But,” she said, voice low, once they had their laughter under control. “If you put the cigarette out, you could kiss me maybe?”

He had never dropped a cigarette so fast. He snuffed it out beneath his feet and brought the hand that was holding the cigarette to rest on her face.

“Yeah?” He asked, eyes flickering from her lips to her eyes, looking for any hesitation.

Before she could finish nodding, his lips were on hers.

Calum was afraid to go to seem overeager. He knew he had wanted this - craved this - for months now, but he didn’t know where she stood. He didn’t know if this was a decision made in the moment, if this was a decision made because of Luke’s shitty text, or if, like him, this kiss had been the subject of her daily daydreams.

So, he tried to take it slow with her. Lips pressed hard together, hand gently cradling her head, rubbing softly at the hairs at her nape. She had other ideas. It only took a minute before she was pushing for more, moving her hand from under his jacket, up around his shoulders. Her fingers tangled in his blonde hair, pulling him closer, opening up her mouth to him. He barely had time to groan “fuck,” against her open mouth before they were deepening the kiss. He finally allowed himself to get lost in the taste and feel of her - so lost, it was not until his head began to spin that he realized he had not been breathing.

He pulled away, chest heaving. As he caught his breath, she leaned forward to attach her lips to his neck.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he panted, the hand that previously cradled her head running down her back, coming to rest parallel to the other on her waist. He squeezed as she detached her lips from his neck with a wet sound, then leaned forward again to bite down.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this,” she was saying - but he could barely understand her with his skin still between her teeth.

He replaced the hand on the back of her head, to guide her back into another heated kiss. He didn’t want to assume where this was heading, but he’d fuck her right there on his deck if she’d let him. The issue was there were 200 people on the other side of his sliding glass door that would be getting a free show.

“We should take this upstairs, maybe?” He asked when they came up for air again, relieved when she nodded, grabbed his arm, and led him back inside. She had been to his house often enough to know the route to his bedroom blindfolded, but the massive amount of people still gathered in his living room made it hard to push through.

Cal was annoyed, grunting, “Fuck people,” when they were finally enveloped in the silence of his soundproofed bedroom. She didn’t seem to care. She just toed off her shoes and got on the bed before removing her hoodie, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

Calum instantly forgot about the mass of people in his house, his sole focus on her. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Instead, she wore a thin white camisole that left nothing to Calum’s imagination. He felt his mouth water at her nipples peeking through.

“Damn.” He whispered under his breath, appreciative and aroused at the sight in front of him. He moved towards her, toeing off his shoes as well.

She laughed, and he wasn’t sure what prompted the laughter until she asked, “Do you think this is what Luke meant when he asked me to make out with you or something?”

Calum groaned, unbuttoning his pants and dropping them to the ground. “Please don’t talk about my bandmates while I have a half chub.”

She was laughing even harder then, waiting for him to step out of his pants, before pulling him down to sit against the headboard and straddling him. “You’re right,” she said, ass immediately grinding down to meet his erection. His hands flew to her waist in surprise. He released a low his hiss of arousal, his head tipping back in frustration. “Let’s get you all the way there, then we can talk about Luke.”

He ended the Luke conversation the best way he knew how - bringing their lips together to meet once more. Her laughter turned to whines as he gripped her ass and ground up against her a few times. Then, he gently shifted them, rolling them over so she could lie down, and he could hover over her, attaching his lips gently to the place where her jaw met her neck. He kissed softly down her throat, hands underneath the camisole, moving slowly towards her breasts.

“This okay?” he asked, pushing the camisole up, almost to her armpits, ready to take it off.

She nodded, sat up, and removed the thin material. As soon as she was under him again, his lips were attached to one nipple, his hand pinching and rolling the other. He loved the sounds that she made and the movement of her body as she whined and arched up towards him.

“Feels so good,” she huffed, voice high and breathless. Calum moved on to the other nipple, sucking and tugging lightly with his teeth. This had her whining, “Fuck yeah,” hips snapping up, trying to seek friction from Calum’s body. Her jeans needed to go. Besides, there were other places that he wanted to get his lips on.

He left her breasts with a final kiss on both, then slowly trailed his kisses downward. He feathered a kiss on each of the freckles she had scattered across her stomach, before reaching her belly button, dipping into it, and blowing cool air over it lightly.

Finally reaching the button of her jeans, he looked up to her for approval. She nodded and moaned, “Jesus,” running her hand through his hair. “I love that you do that. I love that you ask for approval every step of the way. It’s fucking hot.”

He hummed in agreement, unbuttoning her pants, waiting for her to lift her hips so he could roll them down. “There is nothing hotter than enthusiastic, verbal consent,” he croaked, voice gruff with arousal. And it was true - he loved it when women were vocal about wanting him.

(Y/N) was smiling again. “Look at us. We could be the face of the next high school sex-ed consent campaign.”

Calum chuckled as he finished taking her pants all the way off, throwing them over the side of the bed. He liked this with her - he liked that they could still joke with each other in the middle of sex. Another part of him wondered what it would take to leave her speechless. He gave it a shot.

He made quick work of her panties before settling between her thighs, scruff, and lips gently rubbing and kissing the sensitive skin there. “I’ve wanted to eat you out for ages,” he hummed, before giving the same attention to the other thigh. “Thought about holding you down for hours - maybe get you to ride my face?” He looked up to see if that would be something she was into.

And it was if the dark flush that had overtaken her was any indication. She whined and bent her knees, running her foot up the side of his body. “Not tonight though, Calum,” her hand running through his hair. “Want you to fuck me.”

At that, Calum felt a wave of arousal flush through him. He nodded. He could do that. He had been dreaming about that. But first, “Just a taste, okay?”

He waited until she was nodding before he brought his head back down. He didn’t taste her immediately - he went back to her thighs, nipping at them, loving the sounds she made as his scruff rubbed lightly against them.

“Cal, don’t tease.” She pushed slightly, trying to direct him towards her pussy. He just moved over to the next thigh.

It wasn’t until she whined “Cal,” again that he gave into her. He flattened his tongue and ran it over her clit before taking it between his lips and sucking. She cried out, bending her other knee, bringing it up to match the other.

Calum wove both arms underneath her legs, bringing his hands to rest on her waist, holding her still beneath him. He alternated between sucking her clit and licking between her folds, loving how wet she was, loving being enveloped in her scent, enjoying the noises she made and the way she tried to get a grip on his too-short hair. She was so responsive under him, panting and squirming at him tonguing her.

He pulled away for a short breath asking, “You like that?”

She could barely breathe out “Yeah,” before he was on her again. He felt himself pulse with desire at every, “Jesus” and “Cal that feels so good.”

He spent forever between her until she pushed him away, hissing, “Cal.”

He looked up at her, licking the lingering taste of her off his lips. “Yes?”

She looked down at him, panting and sweaty, somewhere between wanting to pull him up towards her and push him down towards her cunt.

“What do I have to do to get you to fuck me?” she breathed out.

Chuckling, he untangled his arms from her waist, coming up on his knees. He put one hand on her stomach, holding her down. “Sorry,” he said, slowly removing his rings, tossing them on his bedside table. “I got carried away.”

She doesn’t get to respond before he is slipping two fingers inside her. They both groaned in unison as he watched as his fingers scissored in and out of her.

“God, I could play with your pussy all night,” he teased, knowing that was not what she wanted to hear.

She glared and pouted up at him, making her frustration evident.

“Put that lip away.”

When she didn’t, he leaned down and kissed it away.

They spent a minute licking into each other as Calum’s finger worked inside her. Their lips had barely parted before she asked, “Now will you fuck me?”

Instead of answering, he slid his fingers out of her and moved over to his bedside table drawer, pulling out a condom. He held it up to show her, a silent yes to her earlier question. She rolled her eyes, watching and waiting as he rolled the condom on.

“How do you want it?” He settled over her again, lightly peppering her neck with kisses.

“Just like this,” she requested. “Wanna see you.”

He captured her lips once more with his own in silent agreement. The next time he’d take her from behind, hard and fast, until both of them were breathing hard, unable to do or say anything more than each other’s names. Right now, he wanted to enjoy her, savoring what he had spent weeks dreaming of.

He aligned himself with her and pressed in slowly, overwhelmed by how good she felt, enjoying every second until he was buried inside her. Then, Calum took a moment, drawing awareness to the fire he felt everywhere they connected, wanting to chase that heat. He flattened himself on her, burying his face in her neck, flooding his senses with her, before putting one hand on her waist, the other gripping the sheets above her head. Her legs came up to wrap around him, one arm in his hair, the other around his back. The noises she made were downright filthy, as she gasped and whimpered and cried out with every stroke.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunted, lips attaching to her neck, sucking and biting at the skin there.

“C’mon Cal,” she pleaded. “More.”

And that was all it took for him to lose his resolve to go slow. He got up on his elbows and pounded into her. She had both hands in his hair now, pulling his head down, unable to keep their lips connected with the jerkiness of his rhythm, but wanting his mouth close anyway. He slowed for a second, to join their lips, to taste her. Then, he let his desires overtake him, got to his knees, and rammed her. His hands gripped and held her boobs while hers twisted in the bedsheets above her head.

He wasn’t surprised how quickly he felt his orgasm building. He was surprised, however when she came before him, her whole body tightening, head thrown back in ecstasy.

He rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm then went to pull out of her, to finish himself off, but she shook her head. “Come in me.”

He couldn’t even form a coherent response to that. All he managed was, “Fuck,” drawing out the vowel of the word.

She’s nodding in agreement as if her suggestion affected her just as much as it did him. “We’re going to have to get tested ASAP, so you can actually come in me when we do this again.”

He nodded eagerly, both at the idea and the implications that this would be happening again.

“But for now. . .” She trailed off because she really didn’t have to finish. He got the message. He braced both hands on her waist and slammed into her. It only took a few strokes before he was gone. He let out a deep groan, hips coming to a halt as he came inside her.

“Fuck,” he whispered, barely breathing, before burying his face into her neck. He had to take a moment waiting for his limbs to work again, before he moved off of her and deposited the soiled condom in the trash near his bedside table.

When he rolled back over, coming to lie flat on his back, she laid on him, heaving a content sigh. He lazily ran his fingers down her back while she mimicked his motion on his chest.

Then, it only took a few seconds for reality to hit. Everything had happened so fast they never really talked it out. What was this to her? She had briefly mentioned a next time, but even with that he couldn’t get his hopes up. They were both notorious for friends with benefits arrangements. And that was another thing - if they did decide to give this a try, would it be exclusively? Would they end all other arrangements on the side?

He didn’t know how to ask all this without seeming desperate and insecure, so instead, he asked, “What do you want for breakfast tomorrow morning?”

He knew she had a rule, no staying overnight at an fwb’s house. If he could gage if she were staying the night, he would know where he stood with her. Getting on her elbows, she raised herself above him and leveled him with an unimpressed look.

She saw right through him.

“You can just ask me,” she said, silently, reaching her hands up to run through his hair. He leaned into her touch. “Ask me what I want from this, from you. This is us. It will only work if we’re real with each other.”

She was right - she wasn’t just some girl he picked up at a party and decided to fuck. This was (Y/N). They were friends first. They had a rule about transparency in their friendship, and when he started hiding the fact that he was falling for her, they had lost some of that. It was time for him to start again.

“I really like you,” he confessed, eyes never once leaving hers. It took a lot for him to say those words, to put his feelings out there. He could only hope she felt the same. “I want to try this, try us, together, exclusively.”

In the few seconds it took for her to answer, he couldn’t breathe, anticipation thick in the air. He was afraid that what she said next would break his heart.

It didn't.

“I love that we’re always on the same page.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief as he pulled her down for a celebratory kiss.

“This is the best birthday present,” he murmured against her lips.

“We’ll have to send Luke a thank you card.”

“Do they make ‘thank you for inviting a mutual friend to my party so that I could bone her’ thank you cards?”

She shrugged, settling back down on his chest. “We’ll have to give hallmark a call in the morning.”

feedback is very much appreciated

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thebestchoice · 4 years ago

Text

Martin Lewis lends a hand to British families with Revolutionary Bitcoin Home Based Opportunity

'Brits Are Using This to Make An Average Of £2,265/day And Quitting Their Jobs!'

Martin Lewis OBE has had quite the career, founding moneysavingexpert.com back in 2003 and becoming known widely across the UK as the go-to-man for honest money advise. However, in the last week information was leaked about Lewis's latest success in Bitcoin Trading - an area he'd previously advised the British Nation to be cautious of.

"I just couldn't ignore it anymore!" Lewis told Rose Hill, Daily Mirror. "I get so many messages through social media asking about Bitcoin, from people sharing their challenges with money, amongst other things. This whole system came about purely out of my obesession to want to help more british families become financially stable"

The new venture is called Crypto Engine, and although he didn't come up with the idea, he's invested an estimated £1.2m of his own money into the software which enables anyone to trade Bitcoin profitably.

In a recent interview with Forbes, Martin revealed that more than half his business income for 2017 came from investing in one Bitcoin system. His Bitcoin profits reportedly exceeded revenues from the hugely successful moneysavingexpert.com website.

"No one seems to have enough money, and I believe this is the solution people have been waiting for" said Martin. After 'experimenting' with multiple Cryptocurrencies; he explained: "I think Bitcoin is better than currency. People know how much I hate huge companies controlling everything, and this new 'Crypto world' seems to be giving hard working, less fortunate people, a chance at creating financial freedom.

Political Unrest all over the world has caused people to look for a safe and stable asset, this has driven the demand for Bitcoin in the process; it's completely decentralized and gives you full autonomy and protection over your funds for the first time ever, which Lewis suggests is just what the UK needs for it's economy struggles.

"Bitcoin has increased in value by over 3000% in the last few years alone. The Crypto World is exploding with potential right now - this is the time to start and profit!"

In a recent interview, Lewis said how he came across the opportunity which is available to everyone right now: "When I heard the idea, I just knew I had to be a part of it. We're going to change the lives of thousands of British people forever. I couldn't be more excited!"

Here's why: "A new way to live has emerged that 99.9% of the UK's population is unaware of. Times are tough, taxes are high and jobs are scarce. This program will give you access to this new economy and the opportunity to be your own boss. Literally anyone can begin taking advantage of this and make proper money from the comfort of their own home.

"If you had invested just $100 in Bitcoin back in 2010 you would now enjoy dividends of $75 Million Dollars!"

Lewis says: "It's a controversial investment, because the world banking community does not want the average worker to have access to this much wealth outside of the system. They literally hate me for investing in this!, but they'll hate me even more for bringing it to everyone's attention" - Lewis laughed.

Lewis says Banks hate him for making Bitcoin trading accessible for 'regular' people. (Image: Daily Mirror)

Here's the deal: The program is gaining major popularity and the results are astonishing. Lewis explains how "timing is key with an opportunity like this and sadly the window for this is this is pretty small; many British people will miss out. There really is just a few months or even weeks left to rake in that holiday money." Economists are urging people to "Start Now!"

Sound too good to be true? That's what single mum, Fiona Presley from Stevenage, initially thought too. Fiona is a 37-year-old mother of 2 boys who lost her job last October. She was lucky enough to be invited to beta test the program in January this year after stumbling across an ad on Facebook.

Fiona Presley, Mother of 2, was initially skeptical of this make-money-from-home opportunity, but it turned out to be the "best decision of her life" (Image: Daily Mirror)

Fiona admits: "At first, I thought this was a joke. Making money from home is only a dream, but I decided to try it anyway given my circumstances. I watched this video and then signed up. It was actually kinda fun learning something new. Money was flowing into my account, I didn't believe it was real. I was skeptical that I would receive a payout!"

Crypto Engine now pays Fiona every Monday morning." (Image: Daily Mirror)

"I now earn really good money just to work from home every day...and I get paid every Monday morning... I make around £7,000 a month right now and it's creeping up every week. I receive my Bitcoin straight to my wallet, and if I need quick access I can transfer cash directly to my bank account by direct deposit, but I also have the option of Paypal or Cheque too!

What exactly is Fiona paid to do? She says, "Essentially this new economy is Crypto Engine Auto Trading. You can trade it like stocks, but because it's a completely untapped market, there's no competition. I'm scooping up cash like ice cream. It's such a good time to be doing this and although I did my best to shield my kids from my challenges, they can clearly now see how much happier mummy is, and their toy cupboard is well stocked!"

What you need: Only a computer, smartphone, or tablet with internet access. You don't need any specific skills other than knowing how to use a computer and browsing the internet. Another perk of this program is you get to choose your own hours. You can work completely on your own schedule- whether that's 5 hours a week or 50 hours a week. Absolutely no selling or telemarketing involved!

To save our reader's time and double check the Crypto Engine's functionality, Fiona kindly created a guide to getting started on the system.

Here's her step-by-step walkthrough:

START NOW

First thing you see is a video showing off Crypto Engine in all of its glory. The advertising is big and bold and in your face but it is an American product and that's how they do things. Anyway, you simply submit your name and email address below the video to get started.

Next up, you're asked to fund your account. As I was navigating the deposit page, my mobile rang. It was an international number so I was hesitant to answer but then I realised it was obviously from Crypto Engine. Sure enough, it was my own personal account manager. His service was great. He took me through the entire funding process. They accept all major credit cards like Visa, MasterCard and American Express. I went ahead and deposited the minimum amount which is around £180 or $250 cause the platform works in US Dollars.

Once funded, I navigated to the "Auto-Trader" section of software, set the trade amount to the recommended $50 and enabled it. The Crypto Engine software started making trades at a rapid rate and I was concerned at first but let it do its thing. I left it active for about an hour and went and watched TV. When I came back, my account balance read $1,592.37! That's £1,127! I had just turned £180 into £1,127 in the space of an hour!

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ML: Are They Worthy? Chapter 75: Downtime!

Marinette woke up from her sleep. She was used to getting exhausted after an outing as Ladybug, but this one really took its toll on her. It was to be expected, as it was probably the biggest event she had to go through as Ladybug.

She got out of bed and stretched. As sore as she was, she was thankful that she had a magic superhero suit that she had been using for a long time, otherwise she would probably feel too numb to move.

She noticed Tikki wasn’t there with her. This worried her a bit, but she figured Tikki was off talking with her parents. Well, Tikki only had me for a while there Marinette rationalized. I’m sure she’d enjoy the company of others for a change.

She walked down to the kitchen with as much energy as she could. It was taxing, but nothing she couldn’t manage. Upon arrival, she saw something that shook her out of her groggy state. “Adrien?”

Adiren was having breakfast with her parents, along with Tikki and Plagg. Adrien turned to her and said “Oh. Hey sleeping beauty. Finally awake, huh.”

Marinette looked around. “It’s still bright out, and you’re eating breakfast, I don’t think I slept that much.”

Everyone else looked at each other awkwardly. “Um, ‘still’ might not be the operative word here, dear” Sabine said.

Marinette was confused. She checked her phone. Upon doing so, she discovered something that shook her. “It’s MONDAY?!”

“Yeah, you kind of slept through all of Sunday, sweetie” Tom said.

“Marinette, it’s perfectly understandable” Tikki reassured her.

“How did I sleep for an entire day?!” Marinette said.

“It’s actually pretty simple,” Plagg said. “Saturday was a busy day for you. By the end of it, you must have been running on pure adrenaline, and whatever power that Royal Guard thing gave you.”

Adrien smiled. “He’s right,” he added. “You had all of us over to discuss your concerns over becoming the new guardian, there was an akuma, you babysat Manon, you got called over to my house to be asked to become the new Hawk Moth, and everyone had to team up to stop him after causing a city-wide panic, while you didn’t even get powered up like most of us. That is a lot to do in a day.”

Marinette paused. She thought about Saturday's events. I guess that really was a lot to go through in a day… She then thought about something else. I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the help of everyone. If I was by myself, Paris would be subjugated by Hawk Moth. Every one’s been telling me that I don’t need to do this alone. That I have help. And yet, I somehow still try to shoulder the burden myself.

She then had a realization. I’ve known this. I’ve known the entire time. I just didn’t fully understand it, until just now. She thought back to her test. Marinette was ready to give up when the whole world was against her, but she wasn’t alone. She had Cat Noir every step of the way. She had her other friends too. Friends she could trust with the miraculous. Friends who meant the world to her. Friends who had her back no matter what. It was in that moment that she felt like she could allow herself to feel good to take time for herself.

She smiled, slightly chuckkled, and walked up to Adrien to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said afterwards. She sat down, ready to eat.

Adrien blushed. “Um, you’re welcome,” he said. Plagg couldn't help but snicker. “But for what?”

Marinette smiled. “For always being there for me.” Adrien smiled. Marinette’s parents took in the sweetness of this moment, as did Tikki and Plagg, once he stopped giggling. “Anyway, since I’ve been asleep for 24 hours or so, I’m feeling pretty hungry.”

“I’m sure every feeling you have is pretty, because it’s you” Adrien said, not missing a beat or a good pun opportunity.

It was Marinette’s turn to blush. She then giggled. “Thanks Adrien.” Her dad fixed her a plate and she began eating. “So, um, have there been any updates? You know, on what happened with Hawk Moth? Or in general?”

Adrien looked at her. “Well, we still haven’t found him…”

“But they are looking,” Sabine said, jumping in. “Everyone’s been doing their part, right Adrien?”

Adrien nodded. “Right. They are looking for him.”

“Not only that,” Tom said, “but the city is doing its part as well.”

“How so?” Marinete asked.

“Well, the city has basically closed down while the search for Hawk Moth is on” Sabine said. “They’ve closed down most places, and travel in and out has been heavily policed.”

“Also, there are police everywhere looking for him as well,” Tom said.

“Not to mention a few citizen groups” Plagg said.

“However, there’s something else…” Adrien said with sorrow in his voice. “Lila is still missing as well…”

Marinette was shocked to hear that. Tikki noticed.“Don’t worry, Marinette,” Tikki said. “We can be out and searching for them as soon as you’re done eating.”

Marinette smiled at her kwami. She really does understand me. “Thanks Tikki, but I think I’m going to take it easy for a bit longer.”

“Are you sure Marinette?” Tikki asked.

Marinette nodded. “We’ll jump if things get heated quickly, but I trust everyone else for now. I’m in no condition to exert myself more than I need to.”

Tikki smiled. “You’ve certainly grown, Marinette.” Her parents nodded in agreement.

Adrien got a phone call. “Hello?” He answered. He gasped. “Really? And it’s OK? Great! Yeah. Thank you.” He hung up. “That was the hospital.

“Well, what did they say?” Sabine asked.

“They told me Nathalie is awake and accepting visitors,” he said. He looked at Marinette. “Um, would you want to come and visit her with me?”

Marinette was a bit surprised. She then smiled and said “Sure. I could stand to move around a bit.”

Adrien smiled. “Well then, let’s finish breakfast.” Marinette smiled back. They all continued eating breakfast.

Vlad similarly woke up after having slept all through Sunday. He figured this out on his own, and was slightly shocked, but it made sense once he thought about it. After all, he also wasn’t powered up while getting caught up in yesterday’s events.

He turned to look to see that Beyyo was still sleeping. He smiled, deciding not to wake him. He understands Beyyo’s need to sleep, and he figured he wasn’t going to do anything too drastic today. If Hawk Moth wanted to act, he’d need to recuperate as well.

He got himself ready and went downstairs. His parents turned to him and ran up to hug him. “Oh thank goodness!” Ichika said.

“We were so worried about you,” Conrad said.

Vlad couldn’t help but smile. “It’s OK,” he said.

The parents let go. “How are you feeling?” Ichika asked.

Vlad stretched a bit. “A little sore, but over all, alright. How are you?”

“We’re doing alright,” Ichika said. “But, what happened to you that made you sleep for an entire day?”

Vlad wasn’t sure how to answer. “Well, last night got pretty hectic…”

“Yeah, but even then, we didn’t sleep as much,” Conrad said.

“What’s going on?” Ichika asked.

Vlad thought about the situation. There was no good way out of this for him. His parents knew him better than most, and he didn’t have a penchant for lying in the first place. They could spot a lie of his coming from 15 kilometers away.

He sighed in resignation. “Alright, I guess I’ll tell you. But I need to do something first. Is that OK?”

His parents smiled. “Anything you need,” Conrad said.

Vlad nodded and headed back up to his room. He wasn’t expecting to wake Beyyo up so soon after he got up, but this was important. He gently nudged the kwami. “Ughhhhhh” Beyyo said, getting up. “Are you done sleeping yet?”

“I’ve been done for a little bit,” Vlad said. “But I need to talk to you about something.”

Beyyo perked up. “What is it?”

“Well…” Vlad said. “My parents asked why I slept so long after the attack.”

“Define ‘long’” Beyyo said.

“It’s Monday now” Vlad replied.

“I see,” Beyyo said.

“I can’t lie to my parents Beyyo,” Vlad told him. “I need to tell them the truth.”

Beyyo looked at a nervous/embarrassed Vlad. He then smiled and said “I’m surprised you’ve held out this long.”

Vlad looked shocked and relieved. “So, it’s OK?”

“Of course” Beyyo said.

“Thanks,” Vlad said. “Come down with me.” The two went downstairs.

Vlad saw that his parents were eating. He left first. They turned to him. “So? What is it?” Ichika asked.

Vlad was understandably nervous, but it’s not like this situation didn’t feel similar. They were the first people he came out to after all. He looked them straight in the eye and just said it. “Mom. Dad. The truth is… I’m Judgement Wolf.” His parents were confused. Beyyo chose this moment to make himself known.

His parents were still shocked. “Son…” Conrad muttered.

Vlad sighed. “I’ve wanted to tell you every day since I met Beyyo here” he continued. “But…”

Conrad walked up to his son and put his hands on his shoulders. “It’s OK. I understand.”

Ichicka joined her husband and son, turning it into a group hug. “I’m just glad you’re alright.” Beyyo joined in the hug as well. After the hug was over, Ichika then added “But, this does explain a lot of things.”

“Yeah…” Vlad said, blushing slightly.

“Still, you must have had a rough night going after Hawk Moth and dealing with those Akuma” Conrad said. “It’s no wonder you slept as much as you did. Do you want a bigger breakfast?”

Vlad thought about it. “Sure,” he said, smiling. The family and Beyyo sat together for a breakfast. Vlad informed them of the many details of his adventures without giving away who everyone else is. In turn, they told Vlad what the city was doing to find Hawk Moth.

Eventually, the topic of conversation switched to when Travis and Cassandra were akumatized. “Oh, speaking of those two,” Conrad said, “we’ve gotten calls from their parents. They want to come and check on you to see how you’re doing. We’re supposed to pick them up tomorrow and verify that they’re here to do as they say.”

Ichika smiled. “I’m guessing you haven’t told them yet.”

Vlad was embarrassed. “Well, really, only the other holders know who I am. So, no.”

Ichika giggled. “It’s alright. Go at your own pace.”

There was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Vlad said. He went to the door and opened it to see Kagami. “Kagami?”

“Good. You’re awake” she said. “May I come in?”

“Um, let me see,” Vlad said. “Hey, is it OK if I have a friend over now?”

“Sure,” Ichika said. “It’s not like there’s much to do anyways.”

“Well, you heard her,” Vlad said. “Come in.” Vlad let Kagami in. “By the way, is it OK if I tell them?’

Kagami was confused. “Tell them what?” Vlad pointed to his ring and then her choker. “Oh. I guess it’s OK. My mom knows who I am after all.”

“Is she another miraculous user?” Conrad asked.

“Yeah,” Vad said.

“Oo! Is she Ryuko?” Ichika asked.

“You got me” Kagami said in a playful tone.

“I knew it” Ichika said. “You’re so cute I could just tell.”

Kagami blushed. She then regained her composure. “Um, can we go to your room? I want to discuss a few things in private.”

“Sure,” Vlad said.

“Oooo. Taking a girl up to your room” Ichika said.

“Reminds me of me from back in the day” Conrad added.

Kagami was confused. “Do they somehow not know?”

“No, they know,” Vlad said. “They’re just making sarcastic remarks based on the societal norm of how scandalous this situation would be.”

“Oh. I see” Kagami said.

“I guess it doesn’t play to you, huh” Vlad said.

“Forgive me,” Kagami said. “My mother would find this situation just a bit scandalous.”

“And that’s the joke” Vlad said. Kagami lit up as she figured it out and chuckled slightly. “Now, come on. Let’s go to my room.” The two of them headed to Vlad’s room. “So, what do you want to talk about?”

Kagami seemed hesitant. “You...like Luka too...don’t you?”

Vlad was caught off guard and embarrassed. “Um, where is this coming from?” he asked. “Because, well, you’re right, but-”

“I kind of noticed,” Kagami said.

Vlad looked away, blushing. “I guess it’d be hard not to notice.”

“But we were a bit more preoccupied at the time,” Kagami said.

“Right” Vlad agreed.

Kagami seemed more nervous. “So, what do we do?”

Vlad looked at her. “We wait,” he answered. Kagami looked up at him. “As much as we would like to do something, it’s up to Luka to make that choice.”

Kagami nodded. “Yeah. But then there’s also the matter of Travis.” Kagami sighed. “In truth, he is very stunning. He might not be the most eloquent person, but he isn’t ashamed to be who he is. I kind of like that about him.”

“Sounds like you have a type,” Vlad said.

Kagami thought about it and giggled. “I guess you’re right.”

“Look,” said Vlad. “Love is complicated. There aren’t a lot of strict rules to it.” Vlad smiled. “It all comes down to how you feel.”

“How I feel…” Kagai pondered. “Well, I’m not 100% sure what that is yet.”

“It’s OK. Take your time” Vlad said. “In the meantime, wanna just hang out today?”

“Sure,” said Kagami.

Alya was walking around the park, looking around. “Over here” she heard. She turned to see Angela on a park bench and raced over.

“Thanks for agreeing to postpone our meeting,” Alya said, sitting down next to Angela.

“After everything that happened Saturday night, I’m surprised you only pushed the meeting back a day” Angela returned. “But thanks.”

Alay smiled and then sighed. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened earlier on Saturday,” she said.

“C’mon, you don’t need to apologize for that still” Angela said.

“I know,” Alya said. “But still…” She sighed.

Angela looked at her friend. “He.” Alya looked up. “I’m sorry too.”

Alya smiled. “Thanks.” She placed her head on her hands. “You know, I’ve changed since I left. Back then, all I could think about was how much I was hurt and upset about you usurping me. It felt like you were abandoning me. But now I realize that you were also hurting. You only did what you did because I was leaving, and it was hard for you to deal with that stuff. I just couldn’t see it at the time.”

Angela smiled. “Yeah. It was hard on me as well. I just didn’t want to say anything, because I thought anything I was feeling paled in comparison to your feelings.” She sighed.

Alya placed her and on hers. “Hey. Everyone’s feelings are important. It’s important to understand that.”

Angela looked at Alya. “Thanks.”

Alya smiled back. “To be honest, my friend taught me that. Without her, I’d probably be the same old stubborn jerk I was back then.”

“Was that your friend whose house you were at?” Angl asked.

“Yeah” Alya said.

“Figures” Angela said.

Alya was curious. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you called her your best friend,” Angela said. “Anyone who gets that title has to be someone very impressive.”

Alya smiled. “She is.”

“Do you think the three of us could hang out sometime?” Angela asked. “I’d love to get to know her better.”

Alya looked at her and smiled. “I’d like that. I think she’d like that as well.”

King Monkey and Paonne Ange were patrolling the streets. “Nothing here either” said King Monkey. “Let’s go!”

“Actually” said Paonne Ange. “I kind of want to talk about something.”

King Monkey turned to face her. “What’s up sweetie?”

Paonne Ange was nervous. “I’m worried.”

“About what?” King Monkey asked.

“Well… I’m worried about my test” Paonne Ange said.

“Huh? But school’s closed” King Monkey said.

“No” Paonne Ange smiled. “Judgement Wolf’s test.”

“Oh” King Monkey said.

“Were you nervous?” Paonne Ange asked.

King Monkey smiled. “A little. But I knew I would pass.”

Paonne Ange looked at her boyfriend. “How?” she asked.

“It’s simple,” King Monkey said. “You just have to be yourself. Then I’m sure you’ll pass with flying colors.”

“But, what if I don’t…” Paonne Ange asked.

“Look at me,” King Monkey said. She did. “You’re amazing. I know you’ll pass.”

Paonne Ange smiled. “Thanks.”

“Feeling better?” King Monkey asked.

Paonne Ange nodded. “Mm Hmm.”

“Then let’s go!” King Monkey said. The two heroes took off.

Meanwhile in Max’s room, Katelyn and Markov were at the computer. Katelyn was talking with Pegasus on her phone. “How are things going?” Katelyn asked.

“Mmmmm, well, we haven’t found anything” Pegasus said. “Which is both good and bad. It means Hawk Moth hasn’t resurged, but if we can’t find him or Lila soon, our chances of doing so eventually decrease rapidly.”

“Well, I believe in you honey,” Katelyn said.

Pegasus blushed. “Th-thank you,” he stuttered. “I should keep patrolling.”

“Seeya,” Katelyn said. They hung up. Katelyn sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Markov asked.

Katelyn looked at him. “I dunno, Markov. It’s just…” she sighed again. “I want to be helpful, but I don’t know if I’m doing enough.”

Markov looked confused. “But you’re monitoring the city for signs of Mr. Agreste and Lila.”

“I know, but I always feel like I can do more,” Katelyn said.

Markov looked her in the eyes. “We all do,” he said. Kayelyn was surprised. Markov went on. “I’m sure each and every one of us wishes we could do everything for everyone. But that’s not how things are. What’s important is to do whatever you can do. And also, everyone has a breaking point. As much as someone wants to help, if you push yourself harder than you can handle, you’re the one who’s going to end up needing help.”

Katelyn nodded. “Thank you Markov.”

“My pleasure” he added.

“However, I’m not at my breaking point yet,” Katelyn said. “Let’s continue.”

“Very well. I shall be of assistance” Markov said.

Nathalie was sitting alone on her hospital bed, punishing herself for everything that had happened. A nurse came in and said “Nathalie Sancoeur. You have visitors.”

Nathalie looked and saw Adrien and Marinette walking in. “Adrien? Marinette? What are you doing here?”

“The hospital told me you were awake, so I came to visit you,” Adrien said.

Nathalie tilted her head. “Yes, but why?” she asked. “Don’t you hate me now? For...for...everything?”

Adrien grabbed Nathalie’s hand. “No,” he answered. “And I don’t hate father either.” Nathalie was surprised. “It’s true that he’s done a lot of terrible things, and you’ve helped,” Adrien smiled, “but I understand why. And sure, it’s hard to reckon with everything. But I’m glad you’re alright.”

Nathalie looked at him and smiled. “You truly are something special, Adrien.” Adrien was surprised. “Truth be told, I kept waiting for you to give up on your father. He was always fighting to reunite his whole family, but he often neglected you in the process. I was waiting for the day you would just give up and move on without him. And yet, time and time again, you’ve shown that you care for him, even when it would be understandable to not. Even now, you don’t hate him completely. Or me. Even though you have every right to.”

Adrien smiled back. He then frowned slightly. “Of course, all of this has been hard. And it’s hard to know my father has been terrorizing Paris. And it would be easy to turn my back on you for helping out. But if I did that, then I’m no better than he is. He tried taking the easy way out. Instead of accepting what happened to mother, he tried to defy it. Instead of reaching out for help, he went at it by himself. … I don’t think our relationship will be the same, but I want to try and see if there’s something worth it after all of this. If you’ll let me.”

Nathalie was surprised. She blushed. She then calmed down and nodded. “I would like that. However… your mother…”

“Hm?” Adrien said. “They didn’t tell you? She’s alright.”

Nathalie was shocked. “How?”

“Ladybug” Adrien answered.

Nathalie smiled, knowing that that explained everything. “Well, when I see her next, I should give her my thanks. Where is she? Your mother, I mean.”

“She’s in a different room,” Adrien answered. “She hasn’t woken up yet. But everyone has assured me she will.”

“Good,” said Nathalie. She then looked at Marinette. “Marinette, I must apologize. We tried pushing so much on you. Honestly, I was both relieved and scared when I heard that you had accepted the offer. I was scared because I didn’t want you turning into Mr. Agreste. Cold. Distant. Pretty much the exact opposite of what Adrien saw in you. However, knowing you, you’d be clever about this. And, given that you knew the circumstances, I’m sure you would have done everything in your power to help.”

Marinette was surprised by this. “Well, thanks, I guess” she said, nervously. “But honestly, I was just going to give the miraculous to Ladybug anyway and explain what was going on. I know she would have helped.”

Nathalie smiled. “She did help. It just took a roundabout way of doing it is all. Hm. To think, things would have gone smoothly had Cat Noir and Judgement Wolf shown up when they did.”

“Yeah,” Marinette said. “But then again, sometimes things just have to be done the hard way.” She looked into Adrien’s eyes. Adrien blushed.

Nathaline looked at the both of them. “You know, if it were just you here Adrien, I wouldn’t be sure if you could handle it all or not. But knowing that Marinette’s with you by your side, I know you can make it through anything.” The two teens started to blush uncontrollably, while Nathalie just giggled.

After a day of hanging out, Vlad told Kagami “As much as I’d like to continue this, I’ve got work to do.”

Kagami looked at him. “Work?”

“Yeah,” Vlad said. “In case you forgot, there’s a new hero among our ranks. And it’s my job to test her.”

“Oh. Yeah” Kagami said.

Vlad raised his eyebrow. “What is it?”

“Well, if it’s alright with you, um, could I be here when you get back?” Kagami asked.

Vlad looked at her. “I mean, I guess, but I’m probably going to go immediately to sleep.”

“That’s fine,” Kagami said. “There’s a chance I just might be asleep when you get back anyways.”

Vlad smiled. “I see. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” Kagami said.

“Well, in case you are, good night” Vlad said, as he climbed out his window.

“Good night,” Kagami said.

As soon as Vlad hit the streets, he called out “Beyyo! Fangs Sharpen!”

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfic #Marinette #Tikki #adrien #plagg #Tom #sabine #vlad #Beyyo #kagami #alya #Kim #ondine #Max #markov #nathalie

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