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bastart13 · 4 years ago

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I’ve had a lot of fun recently coming with with female mercenary characters for TF2. I really liked where the concept art was going with making them all individual characters rather than simply “if the characters were women”

The design style is fantastic for distinct simplicity so I tried limiting myself to basic colours and shapes to make these

and I’m pretty confident they pass the silhouette test!

Character names/bios under the cut!

Heavy

Name: Marie Jarrett

Age: Mid 30s-40s

Height: 6’5

Nationality: American (Hawai’i)

Bio: Raised in Hawai’i, growing up she developed more and more drastic measures to fend off the tourists swarming her home. Land mines, electric gates, guard dogs, none could stop them for long until she picked up her trusty minigun to send her message. But even still, she hears the click of cameras in the night.

Eventually, she left her home to explore the world. Enthralled with the image of seeing different wonders across different countries, she’s always disappointed. She’s travelled every continent and still finds nothing that lives up to her expectations. No place, no person. She’s outgoing and open to new experiences, only she usually hates them.

Mercenary life is a great opportunity to earn money, see sights, meet new people and kill them after they don’t meet your expectations. She hates New Mexico and takes every opportunity to destroy the buildings and insult her employer’s tastes. She finds some people she tolerates within the mercenaries as she hasn’t yet visited where they live. However much she hides it, she has a deep, instinctual fear of the Engineer.

Soldier

Name: Linda Smith

Age: Early 40s

Height: 5’10

Nationality: Canadian

Bio: Canada’s perfect woman… or so she claims. The star of war propaganda posters and clearly decided for the role because of her great tactical assets. She’s there to motivate people into the fight. To spread the glory of Canada and inspire her allies. She believes she has higher orders than anyone else she’s working for (ignoring the fact she hasn’t heard from them for a good few years) and is determined to follow them to the letter. She may have lost the letter but she remembers it good enough.

She represents the ideals of Canada: polite, friendly, apologetic, and pacifistic. None of these are contradicted by how she throws around rockets. That’s not what Canada means. She’s superior to everyone around her and graciously educates them on how to improve through example. She loves her French and British allies and will kindly tell the Americans how to be better.

She’s motivating and actually fairly competent, it’s just that competency might be misdirected. She’s damn good at rocket jumping, shooting her shotgun, and supporting her team, it’s just that you really need to get it in her head when she’s meant to be doing it.

Scout

Name: Patricia “Pat” Herald

Age: 50s-60s

Height: 5’4

Nationality: English

Bio: In her years, Patricia has learnt fear… and she’s learnt to laugh in its face. She wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to leave at the drop of a hat, boots polished and laced the night before. Her years have taught her that with a gun and Jeremy by her side, she can survive!

The postal route of Appleby-in-Westmorland.

She’s been chased by geese, dogs, cows, elderly ladies, and when her postal route had her delivering post during the war, she developed a taste for blood. Nothing will stop her from delivering her post on time. Every day before 6am, every postbox will have their letters and parcels. One chucked across barbed wire, another house jumped over a river, another house miles into the country with dogs on her heels, she WILL get there and she’ll get there FAST.

But after a couple of decades, she needs a change of scenery, and the Gravels wars are just the holiday she’s needed. With her trusty black and white cat by her side (ignoring the yowling and scratches) she reckons it’ll be great time to enjoy herself.

Quotes: “Oh, hello, Human Jeremy.”

“Bloody fucking Ethel! Building her house out in the country… surrounded by bloody hills and rivers!”

Pyro

Name: Nikephoros Papadopoulos

Age: Late 20s

Height: 5’11

Nationality: Greek

Bio: Survival of the fittest. Nature gives and nature taketh away. If you’re not prepared for that, well, Pyro is more than happy to teach you the lesson. They embody the old values of the Greek gods: f*ck or fire. She indulges her every whim and unfortunately for the people around her it often involves arson.

One year for the Olympic games, she was given the noble title of torchbearer. On complete coincidence, the Olympics shifted to primarily water sports. Underwater sprints became the hot new trend!

She’s merry and chatty, never missing the opportunity to talk to other people about herself and her world view. She can’t wait to spread her gospel to help other people improve themselves (though she always gets a laugh out of those who go out screaming in the flames). She can’t help it if she has a sadistic side.

Engineer

Name: Mikawo Kojima

Age: Early 20s

Height: 5’0

Nationality: Japanese

Bio: Japan’s early-rising industrial revolutions in technology are best exemplified in Mikawo, a young upstart determined to rise to the top, learning everything she can and building the best of the best. Unfortunately, she’s never been the most creative but when you happen upon other people’s blueprints and happen to construct them first, what does it matter who came up with the “concept”?

At first, she appears to be every bit the quiet and demure young woman people expect, only when silk hides steel, that steel is a massive automatic sentry gun. She’s motivated by a distinct contempt for the people who get in her way. Especially those who try to be better than her. She enjoys the flexibility of English, especially the cusses, and she has no reservations about swearing up a storm, even if she still refuses to give a straight rejection, preferring instead to give a small “I’ll think about it.”

Quotes: “This GUN is fair use on your head!”

Demo

Name: Qingzhao Zeng

Age: Late 40s

Height: 5’3

Nationality: Chinese

Bio: The Zeng family has a long-standing family trade in demolitions and explosives, traced down the line all the way to the Song dynasty. Luckily, Qingzhao has sisters so, you know, it’s not all that important. She doesn’t even have to stop smoking and drinking. She hasn’t blown herself up (that much) so clearly, it’s working. Precision is for other people to worry about. She’s apathetic to a T, having seen everything. Measurements come from the heart. A pinch of gunpowder there, a splash of paint there.

Her family has a deep-seated rivalry with the DeGroots. Long ago in ancient China, a Zeng matriarch woke up in a cold sweat, a message from the stars to let them know of their Scottish rivals. Due to being a continent away from each other, the families have actually met each other only a handful of times, but the hatred needs to be kept up because, what if?

Turns out, Qingzhao has met Tavish even before finding employment under the Mann brothers. One drunken night, the two of them had a short, whirlwind friendship, sharing secrets and declaring each other to be their best friends. Luckily for them, they both forgot the night, merrily hating each other as tradition dictates. However, headaches and flashes of this terrible night haunt them both. Could they really get over centuries of hate and become friends?

Absolutely not.

Sniper

Name: Ansa Aaltonen

Age: 27

Height: 6’2

Nationality: Finnish

Bio: Snow. Sugar. Cocaine. Her life is run by many white powders. Ansa is a professional sniper, with a sharp eye and a steady hand… when she isn’t also high as a kite, lost in the snowy wilderness of Finland and screeching to the sky. When you’re up in the dark and cold, you need something to give you a little pep in your step. It just so happens Ansa liked having a bit more pep than most.

She’s there for a THRILL. There’s nothing better to get your heart pumping at 200 beats per second than a good headshot, embracing the chill, and a hit of sugar. She no longer feels the cold or heat or even pain, shrugging it off until she collapses. It just makes her feel alive. She’s efficient, fast, and determined to get her kicks.

She has an unusual taste, living off fermented fish and tree bark. To most people around the Finnish wilderness, she’s nothing more than an urban legend, but she’s very real and she’s looking for some excitement, happily found in employment in the Gravel wars.

Spy

Name: Yvonne Pleshette [Real name N/A]

Age: 30s

Height: 5’8

Nationality: American (California)

Bio: The silver screen calls to his woman and she’s happy to answer. She trains herself to act in every possible role she can, having a wide range of accents, body languages, and backstories. To truly test herself, she gave up her identity long ago. Lately she’s been going by the name “Yvonne.”

The world of Hollywood is cutthroat and full of backstabbers so she learnt to cut throats and stab backs. While some people tell her the terms are metaphorical, nothing else has given her more roles. Living the mercenary life is simply gathering research for her roles (and earning some much-needed money in the process).

She presents herself as a classic film star, despite being a minor name at best, mostly because she’s always changing it. She has high standards but a cheapskate personality. She’s a bit of a bitch, happily criticising others, especially if they’re working with her. What can she say? She’s a diva.

[Slutshames other spy]

Quotes: “Ugh, actors these days, they know nothing about getting into character. They still have names.”

“’AHHHHH—’ Wait, no. Once more from the top. Scream in agony.”

Medic

Name: Susan Monks

Age: 30-40s

Height: 5’7

Nationality: American (New Jersey)

Bio: The American Healthcare system. Is there a more glorious sight? The exploitation of pain. The money. The debt. The fear it strikes into the entire population it’s designed to help. To Susan, there’s nothing better. She squeezes every last drop from the people she helps, working on a purely transactional lifestyle. She’ll never help someone unless she has all of their insurance information and the payment secure in her bank, and god forbid she ever accept help. It’s not like she can afford her own prices.

She’s very self-aware of her own corruption and proud of it, though she refuses to be exploited in the same way, suspicious of anything “free” but also doing her best not to pay for anything.

That said, she doesn’t much care for how good a job she does. In her eyes, asking for surgery is one thing. Asking for successful surgery is another. She has a variety of skills in both cosmetic and military medicine. She just wishes the license board would stop sending her “malpractice” letters. Ugh, stick to your own business. “Disappearing” all their messengers is becoming a pain.

Quotes: “Why get someone else to do something for you when you can scrounge a way to do it yourself?”

#team fortress 2 #team fortress #tf2 #fem tf2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 engineer #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #tf2 pyro #character design #art #i'm very happy with how these turned out

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sidetongue · 3 years ago

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Out of all your dogs who is the most difficult to own? Like I know that you love all your dogs and they're all amazing but there is always that one dog in a group who you wouldn't wish upon anyone else

This is a cool question but also a tricky one! Honestly I say it often but I am so very lucky to own such GOOD dogs. With any of my dogs, I could hand one over to a random on the street and be confident that they would just.. slot into their life. Chickens? Birds? Fish? No problem. Other dogs? Super cool. Cats? Nice. Kids? Love them. Super elderly people who dogs need to be gentle with? My dogs are your guy.

I guess in terms of less desirable traits Miller would take the throne. She is territorial of her home and will guard it with her life, she is sometimes reactive to men and very rarely leash reactive to dogs. But, these are all typical and expected traits of an Australian cattle dog. Miller is ALSO one of the easiest dogs to own because she is extremely loyal, intelligent, biddable, eager to please, and confident. And in the area that I live, I truly need a dog that will bark her little heart out if something is off… the others would let in any old stranger!

But, overall, the most difficult to own, who I wouldn’t wish upon anyone, is Harold. His disease is degenerative, expensive to treat, exhausting to manage, and comes with a 100% guarantee that he will die as a result. Considering how pure and beautiful and perfect this boy is, I wouldn’t wish this situation on anyone.

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bumblesimagines · 4 years ago

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Green Thumb

Part 17

Request: Yes or No

For anyone curious and if I did my math correctly y/ns dad had him when he was 35. This one feels short and I hate ittt but I tried making it feel longer. The chunks are just thicc

"So, why are we going to Belgium?" Natasha asked, setting the course. You looked at her, taking a seat beside her.

"Cause.. I have family there.. She might be family, I don't now." You answered, feeling the jet move forward before it took off into the sky.

"Family? Like, blood related? Who?" Natasha asked, glancing at you. You licked your lips, staring forward.

"My aunt." Natasha's brows raised, looking over at you. You sighed, nodding.

"What if she turns me away?" You asked softly.

"Well.. You're probably her only remaining family. I wouldn't want to turn away a family member." Natasha licked her lips, looking forward at the passing clouds.

"What do I even say? Hey, I'm (Y/N) and I have superpowers?"

"Well, you can introduce yourself and ask about her brother." Natasha gave a small smile. You nodded.

"How's Clint?" Natasha asked, rested her head on her fist. Her hair was long and her natural red locks were returning. It made her hair look a little weird but she was going through a lot of things.

"Who fucking knows." You frowned, arms crossing. Clint had fucked off to god knows where, leaving you to deal with your grief alone. Natashas' brows furrowed.

"Clint has decided not to return home in what feels like weeks. Maybe even months, I haven't been paying attention." You shrugged lightly. Natasha frowned, leaning back in the seat. Definitely didn't sound like Clint but grief could make people do crazy things.

"I've been trying to keep up with the house but I'm just one guy handling everything Clint decided to build and add on." You licked your lips, shaking your head and letting out a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. "I'll talk to him if you want."

"Let him do whatever the hell he wants to do. He's a grown man." You replied, feeling bitter and resentful. Natasha silently nodded. The rest of the ride was silent until the jet reached Belgium.

"We're here." You stepped out of the jet, feeling a small breeze go by. You felt your stomach doing flips, heartbeat quickening. You took in a deep breath, glancing at Natasha. She placed a gentle hand on your back, offering a small smile.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get in touch with Clint?" She asked, head tilting. You shook your head.

"It could make things more complicated." You said, looking around. The house across the street matched with the address Tony had given you. It was more on the outskirts of town, surrounded by trees. You could hear some horses behind the house. You took in a deep breath, trying to ease your nerves as you walked towards the house, crossing the road. Natasha followed, studying the area.

"Seems like gardening might run in the family." Natasha said, motioning to the flower garden.

"Yeah.." You chuckled softly. You stepped onto the porch, noticing some plotted flowers on the windowsill. You raised your hand, pressing the doorbell. You waited a few minutes about to press it again before the door opened. A scowl appeared on Florines' face. She was shorter than you had imagined. Her hair was a bit messy and tied back into a low ponytail.

"Wat wil je?" She asked, gaze flickering over to Natasha. You swallowed, fiddling with your fingers.

"Are you Florine De Meyers?" You asked, watching her narrow her eyes.

"Who's asking?"

"(Y/N).. I think I might be the son of your brother." You said quietly. Florine stared at you, lips parting. Her features softened for a second before the frown returned. She opened the door wider, letting you and Natasha inside. The inside of the house smelled like black tea, earthy and floral. It felt straight out of a country movie.

"I've got some tea and speculoos." Florine called as she entered the kitchen. You looked at the pictures she had up. Most were pictures of horses or her at events with friends. You didn't see any pictures that seemed family related. You took a seat on the floral patterned couch, gazing dropping onto the unbothered elderly sheepdog. It made no attempt to move and simply rolled onto its side to face away from you.

"That's Gerdie. Old girl used to be a good guard dog but now she's more of a house cat." Florine said, sitting down and placing a tray on the coffee table. Natasha reached forward, taking one of the biscuits. Florine reached under the table, looking through the books she had before pulling out what looked like a photo book.

"The reason I didn't slam the door in your face is because Michael had told me he was gonna have a kid named (Y/N)." Florine said, hand wiping away the dust in the book. She scooted forward, placing the book on the table.

"Michael?" You repeated, looking at her. She nodded, opening the book. She flipped to the second page, pointing to a picture of a young boy by a fireplace opening presents.

"Michael, my half brother and your father." Your brows raised, leaning in to take a better look. The photo was old but you could see his face clearly. Natasha leaned in as well, smiling gently.

"You have his smile." She pointed out.

"Michael and his father moved here from America when he was about five. He met my mother and they got married. They had me when Michael was nine. He was a good brother. He held no resentment towards me or my mom. Michael was as stubborn as a mule and he could never keep his mouth shut. He'd let you know if he didn't agree with you." Florine chuckled, shaking her head. You watched the nostalgic look pass over her eyes.

"What happened to him?" You asked softly. Florine let out a heavy sigh, leaning back in her chair. She reached down, giving Gerdie some pats on the head.

"He disappeared for some time." She answered, gaze becoming distant.

"He wrote letters occasionally. Said he was working for a government in another country.. He might've been some sort of spy, my memory's a little fuzzy on the subject. He spent a long time working but.. He came back eventually. He never talked about it but he was good ole Michael." Florine leaned forward again, flipping to another page of a more grown up Michael. You did notice some similar features between him and you.

"By then, our father had passed from cancer and my mother needed all the help she could get. Michael built this house with some friends of his and gave it to my mother. Oh, my mother was so happy. She got the farm she had always wanted and got to garden whenever she could." Florine pointed to a a couple in the photobook.

"This is your grandmother, Sylvie. You would've loved her. She made the best cakes in town. This is your grandfather, Jonathan. He was always up to no good. He loved pulled helping the kids in town with pranks." Florine spoke of them fondly. Her childhood seemed to have been good with Jonathon and Sylvie.

"You have powers, right?" Florine asked, looking at you. You nodded, reaching out to the plant on the coffee table and watching it grow taller.

"She passed on her powers to you." Florine leaned back, clearing her throat. You glanced at Natasha, noticing her eating another biscuit.

"She? Who's she?" You asked, looking back at Florine.

"Your witch of a mother." She answered bitterly. You raised your brows at the hate and disgust in her tone.

"I shouldn't speak ill of her. Even if she deserves it." Florine muttered, standing up with a heavy sigh.

"C'mon." She motioned for you to follow. You turned towards Natasha. Natasha picked up another biscuit, making eye contact with you. You raised your brows.

"What? These are delicious!" Natasha huffed. You chuckled, standing up and following her out the backdoor. You noticed the stables with the horses walking around their fenced area. Florine had a vegetable garden and a greenhouse out back as well.

"Those pretty babies are Ernie, Kuma, and Goldie." Florine said, motioning to the horses. They approached the fence when she walked over to them. You smiled softly as she petted them, cooing in Dutch.

"They won't bite. Well, Ernie might but he's just a playful old man." Florine chuckled, turning back in the original direction. You followed her down a dirt path and into a wooded area. You blinked, seeing what looked like a moss covered statue of a woman. Her eyes were closed though her head was pointed downwards, looking at anyone who walked down the path.

"She was a charming little witch, I'll give her that." Florine crossed her arms, staring up at the statue. You tilted your head, licking your lips.

"Did he make this for her?" You asked, turning to look at her. Florine shook her head, looking down at the ground.

"Gaia, or better known as Mother Nature, is your mother. She took a human form in an attempt to convince humans to cherish what she had given them. When that proved useless, she spread plagues as punishment. What Gaia truly wanted.. Was a child. Animals, humans, and all those things were creations.. Projects she could ignore if she got bored. She met your father and he fell for her." Florine told you, another breeze blowing by. You reached your hand forward, gently touching a flower that rested by the statue. It felt full of life.

"Your mother fell pregnant with you and Michael was thrilled. Gaia had started realizing that human life wasn't for her. She was slowly becoming human herself. She disappeared with Michael and returned without him or you. She explained she couldn't stay and left her human body here."

"She abandonded me for no reason?" You stared up at the statue, features hardening.

"In some sense, she didn't. She's all around us so.. Your mother never truly left you." Florine said, turning to look at you. You scoffed.

"I have a mother. Her name is Laura Barton and she's not here anymore because of Thanos." You looked at Florine, blinking away tears.

"I don't blame you for being angry. I never found out where she took you or if you were even alive. If you want to keep in touch, I don't mind. Lord knows I could use the company." Florine looked forward again. You let out a soft sigh, shoulders slumping.

"And.. And dad? What happened to him?" You asked hesitantly, almost afraid of finding out he had done the same as Gaia. Florine stayed silent for a moment.

"He.. They never told me how it happened but.. He was murdered." Florine revealed, staring at the ground with a small frown. You stared at him, brows furrowing.

"What? By- By who?"

"You might've heard of him. People around town were talking about him a two or three years back. The infamous Winter Soldier."

Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace

#x reader #x you #x y/n #x male reader #x male!reader #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x male reader #marvel x you #avengers #avengers x male reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #avengers x reader #clint barton #clint barton x adopted reader #natasha romanoff #bucky barnes #tony stark

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lukasspookas · 3 years ago

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My Linked Universe headcanons that are DEFINITELY NOT just me projecting

Time:

Has trouble seeing himself as an actual person, often feels like he's living someone else's life

Loves to sing, sneaks it in wherever he can, much to either the delight or annoyance of the rest of the chain

Plays the guitar, likes to duet with Malon

Has suppressed his emotions so much for so long he has trouble fully feeling them

Dissociates a lot, relates to Wild with this as well as shared trauma over involuntary time travel and permanent loss of certain life experiences and feeling as though they were "too late"

Makes a lot of those "Dad Grunts" where he makes a sound every time he even slightly exerts himself

Speaks fairy language, sometimes has secret little conversations with Hyrule that no one else gets

Feels responsible for everyone, as though he has to protect and defend each and every one of them despite the fact they are all quite capable

Talks to animals a lot, has that in common with Twilight and Hyrule

Got his armor engraved by the Gorons as a gift for helping them

Twilight

Allergic to cats but doesn't care

Has horrible handwriting, writes emo poems about Midna, shared them with Shad once who loved his writing and encouraged him to keep it up

Cannot. Dance.

Will growl at you like that one furry kid in middle school

Really awkward relationship with Zelda, never knows what to say because their only shared experiences are their relationship with Midna and traumatic experiences with Ganondorf and Zant

Very much an older brother sort to Wild and Wind especially

Talks to animals a lot, especially cats, goats, dogs, birds, and bugs

Herds the others like a sheepdog (shocker!)

Not very fond of social interaction, much much much prefers books and animals

Kids either think he is really cool or terrifying, either way it's a confidence boost

Sky

Taps his fingers, flaps his hands, and stims a lot when he's happy

Speaks eloquently until he stutters and his voice cracks horribly and he gets flustered

Loves simple but nice things, especially handmade things, really gets along with Four because of their shared love of handmade goods

Has ADHD, spaces out a lot

Loves feeling cozy, bundles up at every opportunity

Tends to think his problems aren't as important as the others'

Has athsma and terrible stamina, can't run for more than a few seconds

Feels obligated to fix and help everything because he feels like every thing bad in the others' lives is his fault

Sleep is his go-to coping mechanism

All of his dreams are about Sun, some are fluffy and sweet, others are dark and disturbing

Has OCD, does a lot of rituals like counting and having to fold all his clothes a specific way

Feels happiest when he's helping others

Wind

Can accidentally be very loud when he gets excited during a conversation

Can't tell the difference between a lobster and a crab

ADHD to the max

Surprisingly good at giving advice (he is a big brother after all)

Loves spending time with the others, but feels guilty for taking up their time

Passionate about a lot of things that he never really gets the chance to talk about, tends to overshare accidentally

Feels like he's annoying to the others, which is quickly reacted to with reassurance and kindness

Hates dry air with a passion

Very respectful to the elderly unless they're jerks

Four

Middle child syndrome, very good at solving problems

Overly critical of himself, never satisfied with his own work

Can't eat anything even remotely spicy (thinks bell peppers, cinnamon, and some cheeses are spicy, which Wild finds ridiculous)

Has a special interest in smithing and swordsmanship, knows everything there is to know about metal and weapons

Makes gifts for the others all the time

Eats lots of little snacks throughout the day as opposed to a few large meals

Embroiders his clothing as a coping mechanism for stress

Has OCD, constantly checking to make sure his swords aren't broken or rusted, won't step on cracks in the dirt or road, has to sheath his sword a certain amount of time

Really bad tinnitus caused by the colors constantly buzzing in his brain, likes to listen to Time sing and Sky play the harp to cope

Warriors

Feels bad for the others because of how unlucky they are and how underappreciated they were, has some guilt over the hero worship he received

Goes out of his way to make sure others know they're appreciated and important

Always on edge, can't relax, always anticipating the next fight anxiously

Doesn't know anything outside of war and battle

Treats others kindly because making others happy makes him feel confident and happy

Has anxiety over measuring up to the expectations of being "The Hero" and "The Captain," acts confident because he thinks it'll make him confident

Doesn't care for rich or sweet foods

Always giving the others advice and compliments in order to make sure they feel appreciated

Legend

Emotionally distant with the others because he's lost so many people that he doesn't want to get too attached for fear of losing them too

Wishes he didn't care as much about the others as he does

Swears a lot, often in other languages

Gives the others "anonymous" gifts (everyone knows it's him, they just don't say anything)

Severely touch starved but also scared of physical contact

Hates the sound of his own voice, wishes and often imagines he had a voice like Sky or Time but would never admit it

Loves sweets

Can tell you an extensive story about every single item in his collection

He collects items because he's been on so many adventures that without souvenirs he fears he would forget them altogether

Likes doing art but thinks all his art is bad

Will not tolerate self deprecating comments, aggressive positivity

Allergic to flowers

Wild

Extreme insomnia, scared if he sleeps he will wake up with no memory again

Not great at emotional vulnerability, but will always try to be there for the others when he can, even if he doesn't know exactly what to say

Wants to try everything because he is afraid of truly dying and losing the opportunity to do so, makes the most of every moment

Loves colors and sounds, tries to appreciate every little detail of life that he can

Asks a lot of questions, doesn't want to miss anything

Keeps a journal for fear of forgetting things again

Utterly and completely tone deaf, can't sing or play any instrument whatsoever

Despite this, quite likes music as it eases his tinnitus, sustained from his injuries from 100 years ago

Doesn't really understand gender or sexuality, doesn't use labels for himself

Loves architecture, takes pictures of it whenever he can, wants to become an architect to help rebuild his world

Hyrule

Easily drained by social interaction but enjoys it nonetheless

Loves animals, especially bugs, will hold them and talk to them for hours

Sees the others as stronger and nobler and more heroic than himself

Very strong ADHD, often wanders off by accident because he thought he saw or heard something

Swears a lot (even more than Legend) but not to be mean, it's just how he talks

Tries not to swear around Sky because he knows it makes him uncomfortable but still slips every now and then, he apologizes furiously but Sky assures him it's ok

Very good at singing but very insecure about singing in front of others, loves learning folk songs and stories, has them memorized

Doesn't ask for help very much because it makes him feel weak, when he does, he goes to Time, who counsels him with understanding, patience, and kindness

Wears loose clothing, hates it when his clothes cling tightly to him

Feels he doesn't deserve comfort or luxury

Gets panic attacks randomly, hides up in trees and sings to himself softly when they happen

Likes to compare he and Wild's bone collections

Dyslexia and nearsightedness, couldn't read or do math to save his life

Can't cook, prefers to just eat herbs and fruit straight from the source

Like Legend, is severely touch starved but isn't fond of physical contact

Doesn't find anyone annoying

Sorry this is really long

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hobie-brown · 3 years ago

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thinking of kh characters just....settling down for once. having peaceful rests of their lives.

the sea salt trio maybe try to spruce up the abandoned mansion, their mission for the summer and then just...their house. trying to make better memories of that dusty mess than what they got; they tear down the white room, completely remodel the basement. its especially therapeutic for roxas to dig his keyblade into the wood of the mansion floors that rest above where Diz kept Sora. what used to be broken down and uninviting becomes a home big enough for all of their friends to camp over in, whenever they need. The only room that stays mostly unchanged outside of its floor is the library, since Xion loves to read.

roxas still does odd jobs around town, with a growing collection of decks and skateboards to boot. many a neighbor has entrusted him with watering their plants, delivering their mail, generally just being of help where he can. maybe he even ropes xion into some of his dogwalking jobs. he is especially loved by the young kids who learned how to do kickflips and ollies from him, who ask him to play ball in the street when he has the freetime. his most steady job is helping that sweet old shopkeep lady keep up on stocking and cleaning/making sure her cat doesn't run off again. (He learned he's not cut out for customer service the hard way)

xion takes the train to the beach most days. she likes the ride itself and the destination. one gives her time to think and the other gives her space to breathe. her room is filled with little seashells, seashells that sometimes spill over into the boys' rooms or the kitchen or the closet. They find shells everywhere-she's just got a knack for picking out ones with the most intricate swirls and colors. it's gotten to the point where Olette helps her make something out of them. Plenty of twilight town locals can be seen dawning thoughtful bracelets all with their own personal touch and the destiny trio all have necklaces unlike any other shells on their original island. and most importantly: she finally gets a dog.

lea is the lazybones of the group, spending most of his time just relaxing in the forest, napping on the clocktower, bothering Isa at his job, or being the most obnoxious/loudest spectator at struggle matches. the original tournament hoster eventually gets just fed up enough with his backseat driver that he promotes Lea to a coach. And he's good at it: something about teaching kids the sport clicks for him the same way mentoring Roxas and Xion back in the org did. even if some of his advice is a little underhanded/sly. he's learning to love the little things and to live for himself, no strings attached.

isa doesn't live with them, maybe still a little too guilt-ridden about his treatment of them all to ever be ready for that, but he does visit. often. very often. even if the trek from across twilight town and into the sewers does disgust him theres not a day that goes by where he doesnt come around with prepped meals. after all, he picked up a job at the Bistro w/little chef-so he's learned some things and he makes sure Lea and Roxas and Xion are eating. More than just sea salt ice cream, anyway. Hayner, Pence and Olette take care of him in turn. Its nice having coworkers who couldn't potentially stab him in the back at any moment for a change. Scrooge hounds him all the same and it amuses Lea to no end that Isa lets himself get picked on by a literal duck.

namine cant force herself to live where Diz still haunts her and sometimes Lea and Isa still make her uneasy but she stays close by, renting out an apartment in the center of twilight town. all her days are spent making art and drawing from life: there is so much beauty to pull from. The kids running around the outside theatre, the elderly couple who invite her over for tea on their little rooftop balcony, the people, the buildings, the trains and the roads, the light that is everywhere in their world. things she never got to look at properly when she first lived there. shes teaching roxas how to draw but her friend's sketchbook is filled mostly with chicken scratch. for all his weapon coordination he never got a chance to develop strong writing/penmanship skills in the org. they're all working on filling those sort of gaps, together.

they still talk about keyblades and divided worlds and heartless. they have to. but most of their old wounds are truly old-and they're trying to find out what life is meant to be like for normal people.

#kingdom hearts #kh3 #sea salt family #if u couldn't tell i ADORE all iterations of twilight town #i romanticize the shit out of it its just a rad designed town

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alternateafterthought · 4 years ago

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Arcane

Ø Meaning: Secret, Mysterious, Understood only by few. MAGIC

Ø Pairing: Panther Hybrid Min Yoongi x Reader

Ø Summary: Some secrets are kept for the good of people. Some secrets are kept for abuse or power. Yoongi had been a victim of abuse and power, and he wasn’t going to let anyone else use secrets for that purpose. So, when Y/N comes into his life with secrets, he doesn’t want to fall into that rabbit hole again. He doesn’t want to give all his trust to someone who will abuse their power over him. But maybe Y/N’s secrets are a good thing.

Ø Genre: Hybrid!au, fluff, angst, eventual smut

Ø Warnings: None

Ø Word Count: 1897

Ø A/N: Hey guys… this is my first Min Yoongi fic!! After finally finishing my first ever BTS fic, GOLDEN TIME, I started working on this one!! If you haven’t noticed, I really love Hybrid stories and I seem to love writing them just as much!!! So, I really hope you guys love and support this fic like you did with GOLDEN TIME!! If you want to be added to a tag list, message me or leave a comment or ask!! Thank you so much!!

Training a house dog was one thing. Walking around parks and seeing them full of dogs playing and learning to sit, come, stay, roll over was something rather cute.

What wasn’t cute was walking past those same parks to see full grown adult hybrids learning the same tricks as dogs. They may have animal genetics, they may have eats and a tail, and some attributes of their animal counterpart. Yet, it gives no proper reasoning as to why hybrids needed to be trained to sit, stay, come, roll over for a treat like they were lesser.

Hybrids might have been part animal, but they were also part human. A small detail lots of humans seemed to miss themselves.

Y/N walked through the park, having slipped away from her overbearing parents 30 minutes ago, loving being by herself. Even though it was loud, children running and playing, their parents running and shouting after them, hybrids playing with children, dogs running around. There was so much noise, so much around her, and yet it was the most at peace Y/N had been in months.

She was never allowed this type of freedom, not since she was a kid, and so she basked in the walk alone. The rays of the sun warming her up as she stood in the middle of the grassy area, head raised to the sun, eyes closed. The light cardigan over the dress she wore in the summer breeze moved as she looked around, happy to be alone, even for a while.

“HEY, I SAID SIT YOU STUPID ANIMAL!”

A rather loud, high pitched shout caused Y/N to open her eyes. Y/N blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the bright light of the sun, only to catch the ending of a tall woman hitting a hybrid.

From where Y/N stood she could make out small golden ears on top of the hybrids head, the same colour of the mop of golden hair on the hybrids head. A long golden tail wrapped around the hybrids own thigh as the hybrid curled in on themselves, their hands moving up to cover their face.

The hybrid was obviously scared, and it was even more obvious that no one was going to help the hybrid. Human and hybrids alike just looked as the woman punished her hybrid for not listening to her before looking away. Y/N noticed some hybrids, the closer ones and younger ones looked at the hybrid sympathetically, but the whole world knew that no one could help the poor hybrid. Like Y/N, all they could do was watch, before turning away herself.

Moving off the grass, Y/N followed the path to the edge of the park, joining the crowded streets of people. Y/N only had so much time to herself before her parents found her again, and that was an argument she could wait for. After all, this was the reason she had convinced her parents of this trip to the city, having planned the whole trip out.

Checking her watch as she moved across the street, Y/N only had 3 more hours before she had to meet her parents back at the hotel. She was already setting something up that would undoubtedly give her parents some type of heart attack, the least she could do was be on time.

Well as on time as a daughter can be in adopting a hybrid without her parents knowing she would.

Following the GPS on her phone, Y/N finally made it to the shelter, quickly opening the door. She was welcomed by a lively room, what was obviously once white walls were now covered in pictures of hundreds of hybrids. Some playing by themselves, some obviously posing for the camera and some with the biggest smile and humans, just having been adopted. The people in the room seemed to be just as lively, smiles and laughter coming from everywhere.

Y/N could tell who worked at the shelter, the purple shirts with the words “HOPE Sanctuary” on the back told her just that. It seemed there was a small family who had just happily adopted a dog hybrid, from the looks of it the young hybrid must have been the same age as the son he currently played with. There was also an elderly couple who had just adopted a cat hybrid, the younger feline standing next to the elder woman who gave the hybrid such a warm grandmotherly smile.

“Excuse me?” A voice spoke from behind Y/N. “Can I help you?”

A young woman stood next to Y/N; the purple shirt she wore matched the purple hair she sported. She was beautiful, the smile on her face was infectious, the soft dimples making her look that much younger. Y/N could tell she enjoyed working here, it was always good to see that there were humans like her that only wanted the best for hybrids.

“Hi yes. I called a few days ago about adopting a hybrid?” Y/N recalled the conversation she had with a very cheerful man.

“Ah yes, the older hybrid, right?” The woman’s eyes seemed to spark something. “If you would just take a seat, I will go get the owner.”

“Oh okay, thank you.” Y/N bowed her head before moving to sit in one of the chairs.

Sitting on one of the free chairs, Y/N’s phone buzzed, reaching into her handbag to check the screen. She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking every god she could think of it wasn’t her parents. It was just a reminder, a needed reminder, but just a reminder to take her medication.

It was a simple enough task, one she did willingly, taking the small tablets then the water in the bottle she always carried around. She may not like it, she may not like the effects of them, and she may not like how her parents treated her like some child. But at 24 years old, she knew when to argue about something, and when to accept her fate and do as she’s told.

“Hello, Miss Y/L/N?” A familiar voice made Y/N look up as she screwed the lid tightly on her water bottle. “I’m Jung Hoseok, but please, J-Hope is what everyone calls me. I believe we talked on the phone.”

“Yes, Mr. Jung…” Y/N caught his eyebrow raise before laughing a little as she stood, taking the man’s hand in a handshake. “J-Hope.”

“Would you follow me to my office?” J-Hope gestured towards an office door, and with a nod they both moved towards it. “Can I just say, when we got your call that you were interested in one of our older hybrids, I just had to take your case personally.”

“Oh?”

“It’s nothing to be worried about, trust me.” J-Hope smiled widely, letting Y/N know he was excited. “It’s just when it comes to hybrids, people normally go for the younger children or even teens. I worry about the older hybrids, and unfortunately any hybrid over the age of 21 is considered old.”

“Really?” That was news to Y/N, her eyes wide as she took a seat opposite J-Hope.

With a sad nod from J-Hope, he moved some paperwork around, obviously finding the right stack; “So when you said you had interest in older hybrids, I just knew it was a case I had to take.” He finally found the right stack of paper with a small sound of approval. “We currently have 6 older hybrids here and I would love you to meet them all. Though with 2 of them unavailable you will only be meeting 4 of them.”

“What species of hybrids are they?” Y/N sat up straight in her chair, intrigued and happy. “The ones I’ll be meeting at least.”

“Two dog hybrids, a fox hybrid and a cat hybrid.” J-Hope looked up and smiled as he handed over 4 files to Y/N. “These are everything about them, you can read them first or you can meet them first, which ever you choose first.”

Looking down at the 4 files, she quickly flipped through them, a picture on the front of each yellow file. All 4 hybrids were males, first was a golden retriever hybrid, sandy blonde hair, the same colour as his floppy ear. He had a boxy smile, large eyes that shone brightly and he seemed to have been playing in mud as the picture was taken. Mud covered his clothes, parts of his face and hair had muddy stains, he seemed to be having a great time, even in the picture.

The second was a German Sheppard hybrid, large ears stood tall, tan and black, his head was tilted to the side. He looked to have been caught off guard, a book sat on his lap, his mouth opened slightly. He looked tall, even sitting on what looked to be his bed, his large hands looked like they wanted to move up to block the camera from taking his picture. There was a small note on the front of his file “Would be best suited for someone who lives close to the outdoors.”

Third was a very handsome hybrid. Anyone could tell that hybrid or not, he was truly very handsome, his black hair matched his shorter black ears. His eyes bore into the camera it seemed, welcoming anyone who looked at the picture. His smile was almost childlike compared to his eyes, his lips looked so soft and pink and honestly Y/N could stare at them all day. Y/N saw that he was the oldest of the 4 hybrids, and yet he could easily be mistaken for so much younger than his age.

The final file was of the only feline hybrid in the pile. A hand covered most of the view of the hybrid, but from what she could see was a pair of intense eyes. They looked almost black, his hand covered one of them, but still they drew her in, if not making her shiver. His hair was jet black, as were his small ears, in the light of the photo there was almost purple streaks. There was a small note left for him too; “If he is not adopted in the next 6 months, he must be signed up for the breeding program.”

“Um… could I meet them maybe?” Y/N lifted her gaze up from the feline hybrid. “I just… I think I would feel a lot better if I was able to meet them before making a decision.”

“Of course, you can. Would you like to meet them all together, or one at a time?”

“I think it would be better one at a time.” Y/N moved the files to sit on her knees.

“Perfect choice.” J-Hope stood. “Follow me and I’ll take you to a meeting room.”

Soon J-Hope had set Y/N up in a room, large windows that completely illuminated the room, two comfortable looking chairs and a table between them. J-Hope had left to go get the first hybrid as Y/N paced a little around the room. She was scared to meet them, but she was more scared of walking out of the shelter without a hybrid.

It was the one thing in her life that she truly needed right now, she needed independence. A hybrid would give her that.

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nexility-sims · 3 years ago

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not another simblr tag

tagged by the wonderful @vatorelilith !! thank you 💕 !!

rate in order favorite to least favorite: i am a FRAUD who has only played sims 3 & sims 4 so ... at this point, sims 3 and sims 4 are kinda tied bc i miss the sims 3 world ... sims 2′s cc universe seems fabulous ... any image i see of sims 1 just feels cursed so :/

favorite expansion: seasons !!!!! it’s such a gamechanger imo. one of my favorites overall was probably sims 3′s late night ... i LOVED bridgeport sm, plus the blend of celebrities and nightclubs and vampires and bands was .................. chef kiss. world adventures was also VERY MUCH my jam at one point. it has it’s problems, but still. other sims 4 ones i really like are get together and island living.

small pets or horses: unpopular opinion is i kinda don’t care about pets sdkjfgds i think i do not have that pack installed rn because, in fact, i always ignore the pets dfkgjlga that being said, i have historically had the small pets more often than horses. i’d always give my sims a Family Dog and an Elderly Cat, mostly for the aesthetic :^)

favorite active career: i loved the stylist career in sims 3 bc it let me live my victoria beckham lifestyle dreams via sims ........ now, i don’t really use those careers, even when i’m doing gameplay ?? i’m pretty sure i’ve never even done the doctor one, and i went to work w/ a scientist sim one (1) time !!!!!! i like the retail stuff better. it’s how my bancrofts got rich in sims 4 !!!

favorite ltw / aspiration: for gameplay, i use the bestselling author, super parent, and master chef aspirations most often. that’s my answer !

whims, wishes or wants and fears: hm. i don’t have strong opinions but. wishes felt more arbitrary during gameplay so let’s go with that.

favorite occult: VAMPIRES ! i almost never play with the occult features BUT i’m a vampire gal to the marrow, so ... i played with them a lot more with sims 3, but i like the sims 4 vampires as well. one day, i’ll do a proper play-through ! i actually have a few vampire edits in my drafts that are, lmao, years old. i do like the spellcasters, i must say. i had intended to do a whole legacy challenge with them as a side game for my main legacy BUT i kinda got bored after my main witch completed all of the spellcaster-related things.

cowplants, bonehilda or social bunny: i truly could not care less about any of them but bonehilda feels the coolest.

favorite non-pc sims game: there was a mobile one i played a thousand years ago but i cannot, for the life of me, remember which it was

favorite spin off game: on principle, i have to say medieval

how do you pick the names for your sims: answered this here !

create a spouse or find them in game (townies): WELL !!!! most of the time, i make spouses in cas, especially within the context of my story. however, for legacy gameplay, i’ve added folks from the game—mainly, vj alvi and mortimer goth from sims 3. elizabeth randomly went over to the alvi house and used their swing set (?) with vj, and then constance had a hilariously disastrous prom night with mortimer ... SO, i gave one of them an extensive makeover and added them to the story i was telling myself ! vj and elizabeth ran off to live by the seaside (in a house coleman built for them bc he’s a good papa) and mortimer ... became a civil war historian :/

do you prefer following storytelling simblrs or gameplay simblrs: BOTH ! admittedly, most of the simblrs i actively follow are storytellers, but i enjoy all types of content.

what year did you join simblr: 2018 ! march.

tagging: you, the person reading this !!!! i have undue anxiety about tagging y’all, lmao, so all of my mutuals can just consider themselves tagged. pls tag me so i can see your answers !

#ew why's this so long !!!#about n.#tag game

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neebnabs · 3 years ago

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I don’t really believe in God, or a higher power. It’s really difficult for me to do that.

The reason is, ironically enough, my old church and religious family.

There’s mentions of animal abuse, child abuse, and things that are generally not fun. It is a very long post.

So, we begin with my aunt, who we’ll call Claire for simplicity. Claire was a short, round woman with the voice and attitude of a raging buffalo. She pit children against each other and played favorites. Claire took sick enjoyment out of hitting animals in front of her car. If they were trying to cross the street, she’d either speed up, or swerve, sometimes both, just to hit it before it reached the other curb. They reached the other side alright... Cats, dogs, squirrels, anything that walked across was fair game to her, because it was just an animal. She also left out cups of antifreeze for the stray cats in her neighborhood to drink and die, so they’d stay out of her trashy little flower garden. She claimed to believe in God. she took us (My cousins and I) to church every Sunday. On our way there, she would regale us with tales of the latest animal she’d hit on the road, or how she whipped her children and grandchildren into submission, telling us that she would do the same to us if we slipped up. She would constantly criticize us, and believed that if something was wrong with a child, you could beat it out of them. People with depression just needed to know that God loved them. I was diagnosed at 14, and she never treated me any different than she used to. She still treated me as a small machine who had taken the form of a child, a little worker drone for her to order around as she pleased because there was no harm in making the younger generation work until they dropped and then some. I was never good enough for Claire. She nitpicked everything I did. I talked too much, I didn’t smile genuinely enough, I paced around, I would never sit still, I never paid attention. These were probably symptoms of undiagnosed neurodivergence, which was something she believed could also be beaten out of a child. She called it “beating the stupid out of them.” She was particularly fond of shaming children in public. I hated Claire, but now I only see her as a pitiful old woman who took pleasure in harming other creatures because she never truly found joy. I forgive her for what she’s done, and hope she finds happiness in what should be her golden years.

Onto the church we were a part of. There were many groups and activities for children there that could have constituted as child labor. If we were ushers, tasked with letting people in and out of the sanctuary at the appointed times if they wanted to enter or leave, we were expected to clean the sanctuary. Nothing too gross, except the discarded candies that were left on the pews and floor. Just things that had been in the mouths of elderly folks or young children. We were not allowed to speak, and were expected to remember every instruction that was given to us, verbally, before the beginning of service. Now, if I may, I, as a child, and even to-day, cannot remember verbal instruction for long unless I repeat it to myself several times, and speaking was something I was not allowed to do. I wasn’t allowed to ask someone for the instructions, and god forbid I nick the sheet off of the leader to see for myself, I would’ve been told to ask first. But I digress. The church had a janitor, two actually, that got paid to do what we children did for free. Other free work we did was serving food during events where the multipurpose room was used. We then had to clean up the entire room after the event was finished. Sure, the adults helped here and there, but we had to bus tables, clean them, and all the while, stay silent. Clean the floor, remove half empty drink cups, clear tablecloths, decorations, put away chairs, all that stuff, when they had people that received money for the same things we were doing for completely free. The church ran off of child labor, that’s what I’m getting at. Claire, being hyper-involved in said church, of course had me involved in everything I could be, and guilt tripped me when I wasn’t interested in participating.

Next up, very surprisingly, is my very own mother. I find that she is at the root of most, if not all of my issues. My aversion to religion, my self-esteem issues, my inability to communicate properly, my lack of friends, my inability to make friends in the first place, my crippling separation anxiety, and also, my rejection of authority. My mom's called me a "curse from God" several times in the past while I was a child, still learning things. Understandably, I took this as her say calling me something to fear, regret, loathe, and avoid, as curses in the bible are not benign things. My mom would fall to her knees, look up at the ceiling and cry "God, what did I do to be cursed with children like this?" when she wanted to be extra dramatic. She said that if she wished I had a kid 10 times worse than me, that child would be the actual devil, so she wouldn't.

Let us not forget the favorite phrase of abusive Christians: Proverbs 13:24 King James Version24 “He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.” Which has been interpreted to mean “If you do not beat your children, you do not love them”

In every corner of religion, I’ve noticed an abuser. Someone out for their own gain with no care for the person they benefit from. With Claire, she got bragging points, and small people to drag around and unload her problems onto, influencing them with her own toxic mindset. A disregard for any life that she considered lower than that of an adult, homophobia, and a disdain for anyone other than those who were part of the religion. Someone who demanded perfection from all she saw, and when she saw that which was not, punishment was to be bestowed. The church, who did not want to leave children idle, but overworked them to the point of exhaustion almost every day. There was no help or comfort in the words of the religious, only lip service provided to a congregation of hypocrites. The mother, my conceiver and birthed me, the one who I was supposed to trust and grow to love and cherish as I came into my own became a personal torment for me, making me feel inadequate at every turn, like a burden and a curse to be hated unless I shone in academics, I felt as if I was nothing but a failure. She forced me to pursue, hunger after, and to seek out knowledge, and only saw me when I did as such. She did not look at me as a child, she saw me as naught but a trophy to be bragged about and touted as an extension of herself, something that she had accomplished through me. I was crumbling from a young age, and breaking down, but she only saw my disobedience, my deceit, and my academic dishonesty as proof that I was to become nothing but a street waif.

Where was God during this? Was He biding His time until the right time to act? I was close to suicide, did God help me? Did God get me out of the situation? Did He appear to the people who abused me to help me? No, He did not. I clawed myself out of situations with emotional scars. I was not allowed rest or respite, and yet, prayed endlessly to God for him to save me.

And after all I’ve said, I leave you with a simple question. After all of that, why would I have an inclination to believe in God?

#atheism #personal experience #family #abuse tw #animal abuse tw #child abuse tw #homophobia tw #god #religion #parenting #biblequotes #bible verse

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silke-doomflare · 4 years ago

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Meet the character: Silke

BASICS

► Name ➔ “Silke Doomflare. And yes, it’s got something to do with my profession!”

► Are you single ➔ Silke’s eyes suddenly get a bit wider. She blinks, and then purses her lips, becoming oddly interested in the nearby wall. “It’s complicated.”

► Are you happy ➔ “Mm, yeah, I guess I could say so”, she states after thinking for a moment. “I’m studying things I love, my family is safe and alive, I have a handful of people I could consider my friends.. Can’t really complain, although a little bit more gil wouldn’t hurt...”

► Are you angry? ➔ “Well, usually not. Though, at the moment I’m a bit pissed off at a certain colleague of mine who loudly and unnecessarily harshly judged my thesis of pyromancy in front of our professor and classmates. Like, hellooo? You can give critique and still be polite about it, geez…”

► Are your parents still married ➔ “They are”, Silke nods proudly. "I’ve seen so many broken families lately. I feel very privileged… and lucky.”

EIGHT FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “I’ve heard it was the place named Skatay Range. But I can’t remember a thing from it. I was so young when I was taken by slavers. So I like to think Kugane as my real birth place, since I grew up there.“

► Hair Color ➔ “Black I guess? At least it was the last time I checked! In bright light it looks like dark grey, though.”

► Eye Color ➔ Silke leans closer, so that the deep turquoise can hardly be missed. "You have troubles with your eyes or what? I happen to partly know a shady medic from a certain dark alley nearby. Want to know the address?”

► Birthday ➔ “Ninth sun of the first astral moon, I’ve heard.”

► Mood ➔ “Right now? I guess I’m feeling somewhat eager. There’s this new portal we’re going to test out tomorrow, and I was permitted to take part in it. Can you believe that? Usually they’re just like ‘no, Silke, don’t touch it, don’t touch anything’, but this time I’m allowed in. They must’ve finally noticed the genius I am.“

► Gender ➔ “God!” Silke yells and gets on her feet, pointing towards the roof. A long silence follows. “Seriously! Have you ever seen me on a battlefield? Have you seen the havoc I’ve --- no? Oh...”

► Summer or winter ➔ “Agh, such a difficult question. I like both. I like to swim and lay on a soft grass under a tree. But then again I also like to drink hot cocoa when it’s cold, wrap myself up into a blanket and watch the flames of our fireplace or snow falling outside.“

► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Afternoon of course? I’m not even awake before noon… no, wait. I like sleeping as well. Both?”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “Of course I am. If we don’t count the feeling of aether flowing through me while I cast spells and blow things to smithereens, I love most the smell of old tomes, parchment, ink and all sorts of sweets, especially ice-cream. I also love chocobos. If it wasn’t possible to be a mage I’d definitely become a chocobo breeder. Perhaps I’ll become one when my career is over and spells no longer stay in my head. I’ll retire and start breeding chocobos. Yes, a perfect plan!“

► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “I definitely do! I fell in love with my dog the moment I saw him. Have you ever visited Kugane? Well anyway, they have these small, orange, pointy eared and curly tailed dogs there in almost every house. It’s like their national dog or something, they’re so popular.”

► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “I hate to admit this, but it was him… I thought we were doing fine, but one day he started to complain I didn’t give him enough attention, and that I was studying too much. I mean… how can one even study too much? I don’t get it.“

► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “I guess I have. Not on purpose, though! Honestly, some people are so sensitive it’s harder not to break their hearts, geez… What an annoying subject to talk about, anyway.” Silke ruffles her head uneasily.

► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “Of course not. I wouldn’t be able to ever become an archmage if I wasn’t dedicated to my studies.“

► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ Silke’s usually cheerful expression grows darker suddenly. "My sister. We don’t see very often, but when we do, I try to show my care as much as I can. She’s hanging out with shady folk sometimes, and I can’t help but worry at times will she come home or not.”

► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I surely hope not! Would be creepy to have someone admiring you from afar, without letting you know. Isn’t that like stalking? It’s only good manners to make yourself known so we can find out do we get along or not.“

► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “No, I don’t think so. Or perhaps I once almost did… there was this huge tome - as big as those holy scriptures they have in the cathedral - in a certain old bookstore. The merchant was old as sky and I was afraid they’d close the place soon. And the tome was expensive. I was a lot younger back then and didn’t have much money, and my sister was like ‘no Silke, you totally won’t buy a book written in some dead language no one can read to take more room in your previously cramped room and collect dust.’ At first I was about to leave it at that, but I ended up snitching money from her cache.” Silke grins impishly. “No regrets!”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “I have to choose again? You’re, like, asking me do I like to enjoy nice things existing or actually take them to be mine.”

► Lemonade or iced tea ➔ “What if I started to ask you annoying questions like strawberries or chocolate? Can’t choose, huh? Huh?”

► Cats or Dogs ➔ Silke falls silent for a moment. “…just when I was yapping at you for silly questions. Dogs all the way! I like cats too, and maybe I would be more of a cat person if my first pet had been a cat. But it was a dog, and there’s no going back!“

► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “A few best friends, absolutely. I have both, but I’ve noticed I enjoy the company of my closest friends a lot more. You can do all sorts of crazy stuff with them you can’t with anyone else.”

► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “Definitely a wild night out! I have romantic nights by myself all the time with wine and chocolate and our fireplace, and I rarely get to go out.“

► Day or night ➔ “I like both, actually. At days I’m studying, and at nights I’m doing my homework.” Silke shrugs and grins.

FOUR HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ Silke becomes more serious once more. “Like I told you, I was taken from my original home by slavers. Life wasn’t very nice back then. I tried to run, many times. But I was very small and weak, and they were big, strong and fast.”

► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “This actually happened during one of my escape attempts. I was lucky I didn’t die. I still have a scar left.“ Silke lifts her bangs and shows a scar near her temple.

► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Freedom. Yes… I think losing our loved ones is the first thing we usually think of when someone asks for the thing we fear the most. But I think losing your freedom would be even worse. If you’re free, you can always start anew, but if you’re being held captive, you can’t do anything. Nothing at all.”

► Wanted to disappear ➔ Silke gives a long look at you and raises an eyebrow again. “Considering the things I just told you, there just may have been such situations...”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “Mmh, both are important, but I think I like eyes more. I’m not a spiritual person, but I still think you can kind of see their soul there. Their essence. If they’re good or evil. The creepiest thing I’ve seen is probably living people with empty eyes, especially those without any kindness in them…”

► Shorter or Taller ➔ “Shorter, definitely. I’m quite short myself despite my heels and I don’t like it when someone looks down on me. Well, most of people kind of have to, they can’t help it, but you know?“

► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Pff, do you even need to ask? Intelligence, of course. There are very few things that… truly infuriate me… But the one thing I absolutely can’t stand in others is chosen stupidity. Yes, chosen! Can you believe, that there truly exists people who don’t want to learn new things, be it about themselves or other people or the world that surrounds them?” Silke starts to imitate an elderly person, talking in a low, hoarse tone: “Silly girl. If we would discover new things or try them out, we would be in a situation we’ve never been in before.” She bursts into a mocking laughter. “Yes, someone really said that to me…”

► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “Relationship, hands down. I’ve had my share of hook-ups.” Silke apparently can’t stop her eyes rolling towards the roof as a protest.

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “Yeah, we get along very well. I have some arguments every now and then with my two siblings, but nothing too serious.”

► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “Not anymore. It used to be such a mess, though.” Silke lets out an uneasy laugh. “After me and Asagi were adopted, we got our life eventually back together. Despite a few ups and downs it’s been quite stable after that. A place to belong to and meaningful chores do wonders.”

► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “No, definitely not. My parents have always been reasonable. Even during our wildest teenage years I can’t remember there would’ve been anything too major…“

► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ Silke has some difficulties holding back a sudden laughter. "I got kicked out of class, yeah! Though I still think it was unfair towards me. It wasn’t my fault. It was an alchemy class and I guess I had made some miscalculation with my mixture… I tried to tell my professor I’m not quite sure about it, but he just had to go and push his big head too close to the cauldron.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “No, I don’t hate my friends. If I did, I wouldn’t be friends with them, would I? Some of them have some annoying traits, but... hate? Nah.“

► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ "Sadly no… I’ve had some… disappointments. You know, there’s quite a lot of people who seem like they’re good friends, but once you have a bad day, or few bad days, they suddenly disappear and want to hear nothing about it. So weird. I certainly wouldn’t abandon my friends like that.”

► Who is your best friend ➔ “Absolutely Iris. She’s a bit odd sometimes, in a good way though, and her vocabulary is quite vulgar and it upsets some people, but I think it’s hilarious. I’ve never met anyone so quick-witted before. There’s not a single boring moment while she’s around. Oh, and nowadays there’s also this certain miqo’te called Shaura. We haven’t known each other for very long, but just like with Iris, we just clicked right away.“

► Who knows everything about you ➔ “I think my sister might… I’ve tried to keep some secrets from her, like me loaning her gil without asking sometimes, but I think she knows. I have no idea how the heck! I mean, I’m smart, but she’s even smarter… If it was possible, I would like to change brains with her for a day or two. I want to know how she does it.”

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #meet the character #viera #silke doomflare #veena #character info

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jackalopefreckles · 4 years ago

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I feel like Ive aged at least 6 years since covid started. Im angrier. Less adapted to being outside then I used to be- which is saying a lot. This time last year I was?? Actually healthier mentally then I had ever been and looking forward to having the house alone for a month which?? Was the most freedom I wouldve ever had.

A lots fucking changed. I drove halfway across the country- all 30 hours at once with my big brother AND two elderly dogs, plus my cat. All animals on too many drugs (the vet said they couldnt overdose, and then failed to give any further instruction) cami peed on herself twice, unable to move. I had to waterboard her in Phoenix, a truly terrifying hell city where all the roads are raised and overlapping and its a hot as shit cause its?? What june?? Time was so fake this year I mustve just been stoned the whole time till I ran out of weed, and since moving its been a relief to be able to turn off the spinning anxious thoughts for a few hours

my big brother joined us. He brought a new dog with him which?? Is always a lot, plus I have this pack of dogs now cause the puppy wouldnt leave the super cancer ridden dog alone, and Im able to get her cbd regularly here, so shes always comfortable now instead of just?? Sometimes which is a lot nicer. We didnt think shed make it to chrisrmas. I thought shed die with me home alone to take care of everything, like always. It was almost a relief, I wouldn't have to coach my brother through the grieving process at least, and I had already finished. Its hard now even, for me to realize she might even have another christmas (but I wont hold my breath)

I feel safer going outside here then I did in Austin. I only went out a handful of times in texas, for the last few months I was ordering almost all groceries, and only going to the store once mask mandates were mandatory (theyre not anymore. Im so worried for texas. I missed a huge freeze by mere months. I dont think my elderly dogs wouldnt survived it. If I was alone with them, Im not sure I woudlve.

My parents took my brother to mexico with them. I begged them not to go, told them how irresponsible it was to travel across boarders. To visit an island and take all the plane germs with. I told them that even if my mom and brother were staying at home all day with me, my dad was still going to work and he didnt know what his coworkers were doing. That they wouldn't know what the people on the plane were doing. That at any point they could become the stupid americans that killed half an islands population.

They left a week after today last year. The boarders were closed the next day. Their friend has been traveling back and forth ever since. I have no idea how, except for the fact shes white and rich and wont hesitate to destroy a child, so I can only imagine how shed treat costomer service.

I will no longer allow this angry aggressive woman to ever make me feel bad, and I will allow myself to finally fight back. Im an adult, maybe not all the time (cause lets be real I'll always be a bit too eccentric for most) but when I get angry and allow myself that anger, it's not a bad thing. Anger doesn't have to make me feel like Ive done something wrong. Im usually very just in my actions, and I wont allow my parents influence to tell me all anger is misdirected and hurtful for reasons I couldnt understand. Its okay for me to be angry.

I think being alone with animals for months is at least reassuring that my childhood was unreasonable if nothing else. Which of course is a silly polite society term for pretty fucked, if nothing else.

My aunt had to gall to say weve had a good 2020 cause our family wasnt hurt, and I had to walk away from the zoom call. I haven't attempted communication with any of them since, not that I normally do. Of course none of us died, all rich old white people, most of them retired and able to stay home all day (not that all of them did, I learned about my grandfathers routine and just.. Im honestly surprised no one got it yet. Of course I knew from the beginning if anyone was gonna get it and die, it probably wouldve been me. Hence the 8 months of solitude before the move.

Was the move in August?? Im so unsure about time. Even with 2020 vision.

I tried to date when I moved here. Strictly on tinder. What was the point? On and off testosterone due to the wonders of texas, hadnt changed my body nearly as much as they should've a year after being on them. I look much more handsome now. Im also allowing myself to toss gender aside completely. He/him doesn't mean man, and they/them dont mean nonbinary, so why not mix them since Im?? Not really either.

It wasnt even a thought process like that to start. Much more "this is nice" which I think more gender should be allowed to be. Dont gotta be deep just comfortable.

I wont ever allow my parents to forget what they did. I ended up with three dogs I didnt want (I was so looking forward to not having any dogs) and I ended up taking care of my brother. Again. Its easier without my parents at least. Everything always is. My dogs are even happier. Cami finally isnt anxious 24/7. Again, a sad reminder my childhood wasn't great. Daisy is healthier. Trauma can be stored emotionally or with health issues, often both. I think the cancer dog getting better and?? Surviving and thriving so much longer then the vet said (how good was my old vet?) Is another unfortunate nail in thay proverbial coffin.

Im not as soft and openly loving. Im even more touch starved somehow. Harsher. I still want to choose love and compassion, but Im not letting myself fall into the trap of being so nice people wont be nice to you. Fighting back is something I wont feel shameful about, because it never stopped me from doing it completely anyway.

I was already reaching this on my own though. This was just more coffins, more nails. This didnt need to happen. We know our government let this happen. Its still letting it happen. Im not sure when Im getting my vaccine. My big brothers sick of quarentine and keeps trying to get us to go out. Sometimes I yield, and we go to a park, or the top floor of the parking garage. I get a vegan hotdog from nearby. We talk and laugh and were genuinely just. Boys being boys.

I shouldn't have to deal with parent shit anymore. I do though, especially since two out of three are unemployed and we can really only afford to live here cause of them (they owe me if anything though. Especially with my brother and these animals) I hope I can get a job soon. Or maybe even go back to school. Im lucky I had so much saved up (for top surgery, which I guess wont happen before Im 25 like I really tried for. I wouldve done it before now, but texas waitlists and rules kept holding me up. I literally went to an appointment in dallas, a 4 hour drive, just to found out the surgeon canceled on me for the second time)

Its incredibly depressing, and I know Im lucky to have had that stash. So many people didnt have anything and lost so much. People lost people. Half a million at this point. I remember when it got to 300,000 and I just?? Felt so awful it was so close to how many people we lost to AIDS. Its over that by so many now. It doesn't really stop, does it??

Is that catholic guilt?? Or maybe just irish guilt in general. Is it something I inherited or earned through all the end of the worlds and once in a lifetime recessions Ive been through. Im not sure how many off the top of my head, theyve been coming since I was so small and its always more and more. Im not even catholic anymore. I cant stop being irish though, even though the brits tried (and succeeded. Weve lost a lot. The current royal cotastrophy is bullshit as well, the only person who deserves a royal title is from Meniappolos

My home is decorate all inside for st patrick's day. My big brother loves it so Im going all out, and its def making me feel much more irish then usual (which is a lot Im over half)

I think I just wanted to say Im not the same. I hope I can still be happy an obnoxious is public. I wonder if I remember how

#TIRED #happy covid anniversary #time to post this without reading it lmao #long post #rambles

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desperationandgin · 5 years ago

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Peaceful Easy Feelin’ (A Market Price One-Shot)

Rating: Explicit (or Mature? IDK.)

Author: desperationandgin

Also Read On: AO3

Summary: Jamie and Claire take their first road trip together.

A/N: Hello, my friends! After a month of 0 writing, I'm back with an MP one shot. This is, to date, the longest single fic of anything I've written, so I have to deeply thank all of my betas. @filledwithlight, @smashing-teacups, @happytoobserve, @fierceweebadger and @lcbeauchampoftarth, thank you so much. I dropped them on this yesterday and felt real bad about it, but they all knocked it OUT. A L S O thank you to @happytoobserve for the idea with the game! Annnnnd @fierceweebadger even made this GORGEOUS mood board, thank you love! This ficlet takes place after Future Expansions, and I would suggest reading (or re-reading for the tie-in) The Nearness of You afterward!

Peaceful Easy Feelin’

Let it be known, there is nothing sexier than Jamie Fraser pumping petrol while wearing his lumberjack ensemble.

Claire fires off her text to Geillis, subtly watching Jamie’s profile in the side mirror. He’s wearing jeans that make her purposefully linger behind him when they walk; and, to be quite frank, looks as if he stepped straight out of a Barbour ad. When her phone vibrates, she glances down just as he finishes, only having enough time to read part of her friend’s response.

Yer wee fox cub certainly’d like to show ye some wood-

Coughing to hide a laugh, Claire quickly drops her phone down into the bag at her feet as Jamie slides back into the car.

“Ye alright, Sassenach? Want me to go inside, get ye a drink?”

Shaking her head, she smiles and settles into her seat. “No. I’m fine, just eager to go. My expert navigation skills have us at the bed and breakfast by supper.”

The trip from home to the quaint town they’ve read about along the coast is nearly a three-hour road trip on its own. After spending most of the day on Friday making sure things will run smoothly for Jenny and Ian at the farmer’s market, their stop for petrol has them on the lengthiest part of the drive just after three in the afternoon. The temperature is a comfortable 13 Celsius, nice enough to crack the windows and breathe crisp autumn air once they hit the open road. They chat about various things each of them have been meaning to get to (Claire reminds him about the never-ending search for the perfect bedding; Jamie floats the idea of an all-family vacation to one of the cabins near the loch for winter holiday) and weigh the pros and cons of eventually adopting a cat versus a dog.

“I can run wi’ a dog,” Jamie patiently explains, as if that alone should be the winning argument.

“Well, while you run, I can laze around with a cat reading a book and drinking tea,” she responds just as matter-of-factly. “Besides, you don’t run more than once a day, but the dog definitely needs to go out more often than that. How eager are you to put on clothes at eleven p.m.?”

“Ye do tend to have me thoroughly undressed by ten,” Jamie muses, smiling at her soft thwap against his shoulder. “Dogs alert ye to intruders, they like to play, and they can obey.”

“Oh,” Claire scoffs. “Is that what you’re looking for? Something to obey you?”

“I’m no’ generally the commanding type,” Jamie retorts. Anyone trying to command Claire Beauchamp was never going to get very far, in any case. “I only meant they can learn tae do things.”

“Well, so can cats! And they don’t need to be held by the paw to go to the bathroom. I’m right about this.”

“I dinna have anythin’ against havin’ a cheetie, ye ken,” Jamie points out. “My mam had one when I was a wee lad, I liked it fine.”

Claire turns to face him, head tilting to the side. “What was its name?”

Jamie smiles in reflection, sparing a glance at her while he drives. “Adso. He was a fierce hunter, chased away all the mice and ate what dared to linger. She loved that cat until—” He trails off, quiet for a beat before finishing. “No’ long after she died, Adso disappeared. No one remembers seeing him after that, at least.”

Out of habit, Claire rests a hand on his thigh, but as he reaches down for her she meets him halfway, tangling their fingers together. “Adso was truly your mother’s. That’s beautiful, Jamie.”

For a few minutes the memory lingers, the image of his mother curled up with the kitten suddenly swimming to the surface. He can remember the sound of her calling out sweetly for her cat, and the rediscovered memory sways his decision.

“When we’re finally settled after the honeymoon, we’ll see about a cheetie of our own,” Jamie promises, wrapping up the debate for good.

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She didn’t mean to drift, and she’s alarmed to find herself alone in a still car when her eyes open. Before she can wonder too long, Jamie appears, exiting a quaint-looking home that she realizes must be Eskview Farm in St. Cyrus: the true starting point of the road trip. They’re staying for two evenings, planning a day at the beach (in jeans and jumpers) before heading out on the 30th toward Aberdeen. From there, it’s onward to Slains Castle just in time for Samhein, the questionably haunted portion of their road trip beginning and ending with a tour of Bram Stoker’s inspiration.

Getting out of the car, Claire stretches and Jamie detours, moving to her side instead of grabbing a bag from the boot.

“You were snorin’,” he teases, leaning in to brush his lips against hers.

“If I was, it was only because I found myself quite content,” she explains, granting him another kiss as she leans back against the car. “Our first road trip.”

“First road trip. How’s it feel, Sassenach?”

She smiles as she presses her lips to his cheek, then grazes his stubble with the tip of her nose. “How it always feels to be with you.”

Jamie’s lips find the crook of her neck, one hand wandering under her shirt, caressing her back slowly. “And how does that feel?” he whispers in inquiry, dropping a kiss to her pulse.

Claire feels as though she’s standing on a swaying ship, closing her eyes as warmth blooms in her belly. “It feels like an adventure with you, Jamie. Every day.” Sinking into him, her arms loop around his waist as her face nuzzles against his shoulder. When she speaks, her voice is muffled, but she doesn’t move. “And you cannot feel me up in the parking lot of our bed and breakfast.”

“And why no’?” Jamie asks, lips trailing to her collarbone now.

Her eyes drift to the porch and the pleasant-looking elderly woman eyeing them. “Because I think the proprietor is on the porch,” she laughs softly, stifling it against his shoulder. “I’m ready for a shower, though. With company.”

Distraction accomplished (and faster than she expected), they’re shown to a room exploding with lace and doilies, a teddy bear draped in a strand of pearls sitting on the dresser. Once they’re alone, Claire stops trying to hide her laughter and raises an eyebrow. “Someone not take a glance at the photo gallery before booking?”

Jamie, having opened the closet door, stands frozen to the spot. “Sassenach, I cannae think of words tae properly describe what I’m seein’, so just come look.”

Curious, Claire goes to his side, peeking in, and lets out another bark of a laugh as a row of wooden puppets stares down at them from the top shelf. “Well, this is supposed to be a spooky road trip.”

“Spooky and creepy are verra different things,” Jamie feels the need to point out as he firmly closes the door again, tugging off his shirt.

“How so?” she asks, heading into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

He follows her, shedding shoes and jeans in his wake. “Creepy is more on the weird side, ye ken? Like perhaps a person who has that many wooden puppets has other things in her cupboards. But spooky is just aesthetic, Sassenach.”

She scoffs, looking over her shoulder and appreciating the fact that he’s made quick work of his clothing. “I must say, I feel properly educated on the subject now. Thank you.” Draping her arms over his shoulders, she pecks his lips lightly before pressing closer. “I see I’m suddenly overdressed.”

“And the shower was your idea, even. I see what yer up to, distracting me from gropin’ ye in the parkin’ lot.”

Claire laughs, delighted at him — at them — and lets him undress her, if only to feel his fingers against her skin as he exposes it. “You can grope me just as well in the shower, you know.” The last word is a soft exhale as his fingers graze up her sides, pushing her shirt up as he goes and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Aye, I plan to. Dinna fash about that,” he breathes out against her clavicle, hands reaching behind her back to unhook her bra, gently pushing the straps down her shoulders. As he pulls the garment away, Jamie steps back to admire her — topless, in jeans, still wearing her practical walking shoes.

Tugging at her hand, he pulls her to the mirror, grinning at her reflection. “Ye look ridiculous right now.” She’s laughing too hard to respond, shoulders shaking with it. “I mean, it is a look, Sassenach.”

“Would you shut up and get me naked, please?” Claire finally sputters, heaving out a breath as she tries to stop herself from another round of hysterics.

Laughing with her, he unbuttons her jeans, turning her around to kiss her laughing mouth as he pushes them down her body. “I could distract ye wi’ bawdy things.”

Her laughter catches and she clears her throat. “Do go on. What sort of bawdy things will you do to me while the puppets listen?”

It’s his turn to laugh and he does, loudly against her ear. “Nevermind, ye ruined it."

“We’ve wasted enough hot water,” she decides, kicking off her shoes and shimmying the rest of the way out of her jeans, even as he pushes her knickers (with wee hearts on them; a joke gift on her birthday before the real gift of the skimpiest things he’d ever bought) down her legs.

Once all offending pieces are discarded, they step into the bath-shower-combination together, realizing the tight squeeze almost immediately.

“You know,” Claire begins. “Every movie and television show I’ve ever watched would have me believe sex in the shower is effortless. Easy, even.”

There’s hardly room to turn around, let alone do any groping, and Jamie graciously steps back to let Claire have the water. “This is why we never tried it before,” he points out. “I’m no’ prepared to break a hip on vacation.”

With a smirk, Claire wets her hair while facing him. “I’m glad you’re more practical than horny. My own hips thank you.”

When she turns her back to him, Jamie wordlessly reaches for one of the decorative (but unlabeled) bottles, sniffs it, and determines based on color and smell it must be the shampoo. Lathering it into her hair, he massages her scalp in the tamest of ways, but his cock is doing very little to help with his restraint.

“If either of us breaks anything then we cannae have one another for Christ knows how long, so I’m no’ willin’ to risk it,” he supplies practically, working on her hair until she has a well-shaped soap afro and letting her go to rinse—his favorite part.

Closing her eyes, Claire reaches up, working the water through her hair. “Then I suppose we’ll be boring and wait for bed,” she teases, scrunching her nose as soap drips down her face.

Jamie reaches up to wipes the offending suds away, then looks at the high edges of the tub. “I do have an idea. No’ quite what they write in bodice rippers, but somethin’.” As she finishes rinsing her hair, Jamie pushes the shower curtain behind his body before sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Her hips are at the perfect height, and he grins while dragging a finger over her skin.

Turning to rinse any lingering soap from her face, Claire finally finishes and eyes him warily. “What are you going to do?”

Carefully ensuring she doesn’t slip, Jamie pulls her closer and coaxes her left foot up onto the edge of the tub. When his gaze shifts to the view directly in front of his eyes, any half-hardness of his cock goes to full attention. It’s enough to make him groan, lips pressing to her stomach.

“Christ, ye have no idea how mind-blowin’ ye are.”

After his words, his tongue traces the crease where hip joins torso, feeling her shiver despite the warmth of the shower.

“I have—” her words falter, breath hitching as his fingers part her. “—you doing this. I know how to take a hint.” One of her hands pushes through his hair, and gripping a handful of said curls, she presses her hips forward against his mouth.

“Impatient,” he scolds, but the words are muffled as he’s helpless to fulfill her request. He can’t imagine what would need to be wrong with him to deny her, and he hopes to never discover it. His tongue teases around the enticing warmth of her, but his focus shifts to nerves already taut with anticipation. He waits for half a heartbeat before slowly circling his tongue around it, feeling her hand tighten in his hair, her curls brushing the top of his head as her own bows.

With one hand wrapped around her calf to keep her steady, the other moves to her opposite hip while his mouth devours her, doing all of the work. He grunts at the feel of her thigh against the side of his head, absorbing each tremble until her body pitches forward a bit. That’s when he begins listening: to the sweetest sounds that exist just for him, his own private performance.

When she’s close, when pleasure causes her hips to writhe of their own accord, she makes a keening sound; head falling back as her lips part, cheeks flushed the sweetest hue of pink, curls skimming the pearlescent expanse of her shoulders. A high-pitched cry comes next as she tenses, the skin right between her eyebrows furrowing as she chases her climax. Two letters, a gasped out “Ja—” is all the warning he has before a loud, unchecked moan fills the room, not at all drowned out by the sound of the shower. One hand is buried in his hair, while the other clutches his shoulder, leaving red half-moon marks in the wake of her pleasure.

Lapping at the fruits of his labor, Jamie hums in contentment, tongue lazily gliding along warm, slick flesh before nosing at soft curls and finally kissing her hip. As everything in her eases and relaxes, he gently lowers her leg, his arm sliding around her waist as he stands. He gathers her close, standing sideways with her in the shower as his lips find hers for a series of soft, tender kisses. Without prompting, he reaches for the soap and washes her, slowly bringing her down from her high with more touch, this time soothing instead of lust-filled.

When she can finally move again, Claire reaches out to cradle his face in her hands, smiling in blissed-out contentment. “I think I might have to marry you.”

Having previously deemed the shower too dangerous for more strenuous activities, they finish washing and step out, lazily drying in favor of kissing and touching again.

“I cannae be near ye and not want ye,” Jamie confesses against the hollow of her throat as she leans back against the vanity. After a brief pause to plant a kiss over her heart, his mouth envelops a nipple, the warm curve of her breast still damp from the shower.

With one hand braced behind her on the bathroom counter, her other reaches out to drag up and down his back. Claire’s eyes close, head tilting back as she encourages him. “I don’t have it in me to mind.” Her final word is said on a sharp gasp as the tip of his cock presses insistently against her. His mouth hasn’t stopped, moving to the opposite breast to shower it with the same affection as his hands begin lifting. She expects to be moved to the counter, but instead, he coaxes her legs around his waist once he comes up for air.

“Tell me I can have ye now,” he pants across her cheek, beginning to make his way out of the bathroom toward the bed.

“You can have me, Jamie. You can always have me.” Her lips fuse to his, and in a display of exactly how weak he is, she finds herself pressed against the wall, feet from the bed. Before she can tease him, he’s inside of her, and whatever thoughts she once had are replaced by a series of white bursts of light behind closed eyelids. Her hands grasp at his shoulders, frantically trying to find solid purchase on the scarred terrain of his back as he anchors her between his body and the wall.

Forgetting that they aren’t, in fact, in their own home, an unrestrained moan tumbles from her lips, so loud that it makes his own ears ring. Jamie slams forward, doing nothing to help keep her quiet as he sinks deeply into her. His loud groan is swallowed by her mouth, though there’s no resemblance to a kiss thanks to both of them gasping for lungfuls of air. He can tell that she’s focused again by the way she tugs her bottom lip between her teeth and digs her heels into his lower back. She’s close, but not close enough, which has him sneaking a hand between them, only just able to reach her clit with his thumb. It’s plenty; she jerks as though touched by a live wire, and as her body contracts around him, he holds a thrust while burying his face against her neck. Letting her carry him with her, both of them breathlessly whimper the other’s name as waves of pleasure begin to recede.

It’s firm knocking on the door that brings first Jamie, then Claire, out of their post-sex stupor, still slumped against the wall. He lowers her gently to the ground, and when her legs are no longer as wobbly as a new foal’s, he steps back, tossing on jeans and answering the door sans shirt. While he does, Claire revisits the bathroom, cleaning herself up a bit until she hears the door close and lock.

“What was that about?” she asks curiously, making her way to the bed and crawling in naked.

“We’re deviants,” Jamie replies casually, laying on the bed and shifting so that she can drape over him. “It was the person next room over. Apparently, ye sound like a dying coo, Sassenach.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didna say it! The woman next door did. I politely disagreed, and she told me that to answer the door in such a state of undress was a mark on my puir soul.”

“Was she about eighty years of age?” Claire mutters, blushing a little.

Laughing, Jamie pulls her closer, kissing her forehead. “Closer to eighty-five, I think. I promised her we’d be leavin’ after breakfast in the morning and until then, no more rude noises.”

“You think they’re rude?”

“I happen to find them verra adorable. Sexy too, if it helps,” he playfully taunts.

She huffs, pretending to be greatly put out. “And what if I wanted to try and get you to make rude noises before 5 a.m?”

With a smirk, Jamie curves a hand around her hip. “If ye’re awake before 5 a.m. on our vacation, Sassenach, I’ll make all the wee noises ye’d like.”

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Morning comes (but not either of them, thanks to Claire sleeping straight through the alarm), and after a few impolite stares from other breakfast goers, Jamie and Claire wander along the beach, properly freezing before driving into town to shop (Jamie buys a ridiculously priced book of Scottish poems printed in the 18th century, Claire sneakily buys cufflinks to give Jamie before their wedding), have lunch, and spend the rest of the afternoon at a whiskey distillery in Aberdeen. Research, he says, and she agrees to a point—until they walk out more than a few pounds lighter. Still, there isn’t much to worry about as the day begins to fade and they make their way back to the bed and breakfast.

As politely as they can, they rush through supper before escaping to their room; both of them miss the look of contempt shot at them from their neighbor in the corner.

Once their road trip resumes, Claire takes over the driving, opting for an Eagles playlist as the low background music. A half-hour in, Jamie reaches behind Claire to retrieve a bag from the backseat, rummaging while he explains himself.

“I told Jen we were goin’ on this trip and she suggested we borrow a game she bought a while back.”

“A game?” Claire asks with suspicious wariness, glancing at him as he settles back in his seat with a plastic bag full of small square cards.

“Aye, she bought it for a dinner party, when we started havin’ vendors to the farm for get-togethers. To break the ice, ye pick a card and ask the room whatever the question is and everyone answers.”

“It sounds like something you do when you work in a business office and go to company retreats,” she says dryly, looking behind her to change lanes. “And I’m driving, I can’t stop to read.”

“Come on, Sassenach, it’ll be fun. I’ll read them all, but every other card, I’ll answer first. Deal?”

“What could you possibly not know about me by now?”

Jamie takes that as his cue to draw a card and read it off. “‘Have ye ever bought anythin’ from a TV infomercial?’” He looks at her expectantly. “Weel?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, and I’m not ashamed of it like that question implies I should be.” There’s a slight huff at the end, but when he looks over, he sees the corner of her upper lip twitch as she tries to suppress a smile in favor of mock annoyance.

“What was it then? Can I guess?”

Now it’s impossible to hide her smile. “You can try. But it was years before I met you and I don’t own it anymore.”

“Oh, so it worked sae well ye got rid of it?”

“No. I lost track of it during a move and never bothered to replace it. Tell me what you’re thinking it could be,” Claire retorts, deciding maybe the game is alright after all.

“A kitchen gadget?” he attempts on his first try, then goes through various electronic gadgets, home remedy devices, and articles of clothing before giving up.

“A towel,” Claire tells him succinctly.

“A towel? One single towel ye ordered off of television?”

“Specifically for drying my hair. It had a tab in the back to secure it like a turban until these curls were as dry as they could get without assistance,” she explains. “What have you bought from an infomercial?”

“Nothin’ at all, I can honestly say. Do they even have them anymore?”

“Towels?”

“No, ye wee brat. Infomercials.”

Laughing, she shrugs in genuine ignorance. “If they do, I haven’t seen one in a while. What’s the next question?”

Glad to see her seemingly into the idea of the game, he pulls another card. “Alright. I’ll answer first. The question is ‘do ye possess any of the qualities of yer astrological sign?’ Claire, I couldna tell ye at all. I ken I’m a Taurus, but after that, ‘tis a mystery.”

“Geillis is really into horoscopes, you know. She told me that apparently you’re supposed to be devoted and responsible, so lucky me. Stubbornness happens to be a trait of your sign, and the more we talk, the more I think there might be something to that. You know what else a Taurus likes?”

“No, but I’m interested to hear,” Jamie declares, wondering when this conversation with her neighbor happened.

“Apparently, and I wouldn’t know anything about this, you’re supposed to be good with your hands.” When she glances at him, her grin is so toothy that they both laugh, spending a few seconds recovering from it.

“I’m ashamed to admit I’m no’ even sure what your sign is. What are you supposed to be like, accordin’ to October twentieth?”

“I’m a Libra. You’ll have to tell me if I’m gracious, diplomatic, and indecisive, with a love of the outdoors.”

Leaning back as if to appraise her, Jamie ponders it. “I’ve never kent ye to be indecisive. Careful to choose, perhaps, but no’ unable to make up yer mind. And either ye love the outdoors or the acting ye do at the farm is award-worthy.”

Claire smiles, reaching out to rest her hand on his arm for a second. “I love it. All of it, everything that comes with you and Lallybroch.” Her life before him of simply waking up and going to work was status quo for so long that the moment James Fraser stepped into her life, it was as if an entire world had opened up to her. Family and togetherness, love and warmth. Every single bit of her happiness comes from that farm.

“Next question?”

Pulling a card, his face softens. “What’s the most beautiful drive ye’ve ever taken, Sassenach?” She smiles at him sweetly; it’s a quick glance that feels as though it lasts forever, a moment neither of them wants to forget, and so it seems to stretch on. In unison, they answer.

“This one.”

“‘Which American landmark would ye most like to see?’ The Grand Canyon I think, aye? We’ve both talked about that one,” Jamie answers first.

Humming her agreement, Claire adds on to the wishlist. “I want to see the older parts of the country. The original Colonies, where it’s all the most historic.”

“Perhaps in ten years or so, we could take a trip, visit museums and the like,” he offers.

In confusion, she balks. “A decade? Why are we waiting a decade to visit America?”

His shrug is easy as he draws another card. “Our first bairn would be school age, able to appreciate it more, aye?”

As Claire stops at an intersection, she takes the time to look at him, eyes moving over his face and expressing a dozen things she doesn’t say aloud. Instead, as she begins to drive again, she agrees with him. “According to your rigorous baby-making schedule? Yes, we’ll have a nice school-aged child and probably two others by then.”

Jamie’s laughing as he looks at the next card, then makes a noise in the back of his throat as he really reads what he’s pulled.

“What’s the hardest thing ye’ve ever done, Sassenach?”

The air in the car shifts as she thinks, straightening up in the seat. It’s with that question she realizes maybe he doesn’t know some things. The things she doesn’t talk about, the things she’s pushed to the furthest recesses of her mind in favor of not sinking into pieces of her past.

“I can draw another,” he offers after her silence stretches for a full minute.

Shaking her head, Claire wets her lips. “No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it, really. I mean, I haven’t thought about it—” She pauses again and looks at him from her peripheral vision before focusing on the road. “The first time I told someone their loved one didn’t make it. It was only my fifth surgery, a young man. He was twenty-three; he’d been biking with his friends and swerved to avoid a pothole, but his rear tire caught it.”

It really wasn’t her fault he died on the table. She knows that now; but then, younger and hearing the single monotone beep after her hands had been trying to save a life, it felt as though she’d killed him herself.

“He crashed into a metal fence, the kind with the sharp point at the tip? One went right through him, and I did the surgery. Everything went fine, I thought. I had no idea there was a nicked artery and he was bleeding elsewhere. When he died...telling his parents, his beautiful young wife…that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Jamie watches Claire as she speaks, watches her face, her hands on the steering wheel. He checks to see if she’s white-knuckling it at any point, and listens as she checks herself for wobbles in her voice. He knows her, knows her heart, and realizes that must have taken a toll. “But ye got through it?” he asks quietly, reaching over to rest his hand on her leg while she drives in a show of quiet support.

“It took a long time,” she admits, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “Those don’t get easier, ever, but the first one is always the most difficult. And the hardest part was convincing myself that it wasn’t my fault.” She’ll never forget any of the wails she’s heard, will never forget the people waiting at the hospital alone who had no one to comfort them but her.

Exhaling again, she drops her hand to squeeze his. “Your turn.”

Even when she replaces her hand on the steering wheel, Jamie keeps his own on her leg as he answers. “Watching my da slowly lose it after my mam died.” His eyes move to the window, unable to look at Claire as he speaks. “I’ll always think he died of a broken heart, dinna care how cliche it sounds.”

“I don’t think it sounds cliche. I think he lost the most important person in his life,” she soothes. Once she’s on a long stretch of straight road, her hand drops again to cover his.

“He truly didna want to go on wi’ out her. Her death, Willie’s, they broke him, and he was never going to be the same. When he died, it was almost a relief, Sassenach,” Jamie confesses quietly. “To ken he’d be wi’ her again, that he was no longer here in a state of perpetual grief. He tried to be brave. You would have liked him, I think. I ken for sure he would have loved ye, Claire.”

“I wish I could have met him. Your father sounds like he was a wonderful man, Jamie.” A wonderful man who raised an incredible son. Claire isn’t sure what she believes — if her parents and uncle will be waiting to greet her when she dies — but she does know one thing for sure. “If I ever lost you, I don’t know if I would be any different.”

His hand squeezes around hers before raising it to his lips in a soft kiss against her inner wrist. “I’ll try to never go where ye cannae come wi’ me, Sassenach.”

She doesn’t hesitate in her answer. “Then I promise the same.”

They can’t — not really — but the words are sweet, the sentiment real.

Time melts away and she loses track of how many questions they’ve answered before she warns him they’re ten minutes away from the castle.

“Last one then,” he concludes. “If ye could do something dangerous just once, with no risk, what would ye do?”

Claire has to think about it, then hedges her answer. “Where are we on the danger scale?”

“I would jump out of a plane. Or perhaps let NASA launch me into space.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind,” she retorts with a scoff. “You’re never jumping out of a plane or anything close to it. Especially not with your plan for ten children.”

Jamie snickers as he puts the cards away, spying a road sign to Slains Castle. “I do have a different answer if ye’re interested. No’ really dangerous physically, but it could be a financial disaster if it doesna go right.”

She knows this has to be about the farm, and she looks at him curiously after making the final turn of the trip. “What is it?”

He hesitates, and she’s pulling up to the dilapidated ruins before he answers. Once the car is in park, he turns to look at her fully. “I want to expand into America. Once we finish wi’ the distillery, I want to market to restaurateurs and chefs in the States.”

She can tell he’s nervous about broaching it; she knows it will take a lot of late nights and frequent travel on his part. She studies his face for a moment before unbuckling her seatbelt in order to reach over and cradle his face in her hands. It’s an awkward position thanks to the center console, but she’s determined to make it work.

“You should do it. Do it because you’re afraid. Do it because I’ll be here to help along the way.” She pauses to kiss him softly. “Do it because I know you won’t go through with anything you don’t believe in, Jamie.”

A swell of emotion makes his eyes narrow a bit, the underlying surprise turning into a small, pleased smile. “Ye dinna think it’s too risky?”

Claire kisses him again before she pulls back to turn off the car, opening the door as she answers. “It’s going to be the riskiest thing you’ll ever do with our money,” she corrects, but after walking around to the passenger side of the car and opening the door, she waits until he’s out to finish her thought. “I’m not going to say ‘no risk, no reward.’”

“Oh, thank Christ. It’s uninspired.” His hands come to rest on her hips as his eyes study her face intently. “You’re serious, though? About looking into expanding, what it would take?”

Looking around at the currently unoccupied grounds, she walks with him toward the unattractive, not at all well-kept castle—a rarity for historical buildings in Scotland, as far as she’s observed. “I’m serious, Jamie. You’d never be happy knowing you could be doing more. You should look into it, find out what Ian thinks, and see about getting in touch with your cousin Jared? It’s different than wine, but he might have some useful contacts in the liquor business.”

Jamie has to stop solely to reach for her, ignoring the scenery around them and focusing on this woman he’ll be calling his wife in six months. With his hands at her sides, his forehead presses to hers. “You have no idea how incredible ye are. Everything I’ve done and all that I want to do, I’m no’ ever worried it’s too much to put ye through.”

“Silly man,” she says with a soft smile, nuzzling the side of his nose with her own. “Nothing about you could ever be too much.” Kissing him with a quiet, content sigh against his lips, she reaches for his hand after stepping away. “Now. Explore a castle before sunset with me?”

Following her lead and seeing a grand total of three other tourists while exploring, he listens while she tells him everything she knows about the castle, including that it was once difficult to determine which areas had been outdoor spaces and which were actually interior rooms. It was a confusing space, and as they cross the property to look out at the cliffs, she stands close enough to Jamie that an arm winds around her without thinking much about it.

“Are ye pleased wi’ yer Samhein road trip, Sassenach? Is this terrifyin’ enough for ye?”

“It isn’t what I thought it would be after reading the book,” she notes idly. “I had no expectations, and the view is beautiful. The drive was worth it. This just feels...I don’t know. Cold.”

“Could be that it’s currently freezin’ out,” Jamie notes, getting an elbow to the side for his wit. “Could ye imagine livin’ in a castle? Having meals in great rooms, wandering the stone halls wi’ a torch.”

“Is that how you imagine us? Living in a castle with a staff to wait on us hand and foot?” They walk to the interior of the castle now, stopping in a room with a fireplace. “This could have been a bedroom, for all we know. Imagine a large bed with four posts. A crackling fireplace.”

She’s stepped away from him to look into various nooks and crannies, and it gives him the opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind. “I’m certainly imagining a few specific things,” he murmurs, dropping a kiss to the side of her neck.

“Of course you are,” she says with a smile so large he can feel the way her body relaxes with it.

“I’m thinking of making love to ye on the floor wi’ a bear skin rug beneath us. A fire going in the hearth.”

Closing her eyes, she tries to picture it, the way the room would have looked and felt; dark, probably, with the hearth doubling as warmth and light. “Would you mind it much? Not having electricity or modern conveniences?”

“If you were wi’ me? Nah,” he murmurs as he turns her to face him, dropping a kiss to her lips. “Dinna think I would mind much at all, so long as we were together.”

Pressing closer to escape the chill, her arms wrap fully around him as he reciprocates and both of them sink into one another.

“Are you happy?” Claire suddenly inquires, whispering the question as they stand together in the ruins.

“I dinnae ken if how happy I am can be measured properly. I’m happy to be here wi’ ye right now. Happy to do all of this driving, happy to be marrying ye, Claire.” Moving his fingers under her chin, he tilts her head up in order to deepen their kiss.

She gives in easily, lips parting as his tongue does a very thorough exploration of her mouth. As he does, her hands wander, dragging to the button of his jeans. “We may not have the furs or the fire, but I could certainly see about making you a little happier,” she offers with a coy grin, then pauses. “Unless there are qualms.” Her raised eyebrows suggest she knows there will be exactly zero qualms.

“If I tell ye to stop, it’ll only be on account of unexpected company. But at some point, my brain willna work and ye’ll be on yer own.”

“Well,” she begins, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down as her hands cup equal handfuls of a heavenly sculpted backside. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” When she kisses him, she can feel his laugh. “What’s so funny?”

“You. How long have ye been thinkin’ about this?”

“Honestly?” she asks, backing him up a couple of feet until he can brace against what she hopes is a sturdy wall.

“Aye, of course.” His eyes follow her movements as she sinks to her knees in front of him, but she delays answering to softly kiss along the line of his pelvis. It’s enough to convince his cock as one hand reaches for her hair.

“On the cliffs.” She licks her palm, wraps her hand around him, and begins a slow stroke. “You were taking a picture of the view.”

“Really got ye goin’?”

Instead of saying anything in return, Claire presses her lips to the tip of him before using both mouth and hand to show him exactly how inspirational she found his body in profile. Dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock, she hums in response to his long, low groan as one hand holds onto his thigh.

“Christ, Sassenach, do that again,” Jamie requests, panting, eyes so dark they nearly look black as he watches her intently.

She does as he asks, letting her tongue travel the length of him, slower this time. The way he shudders makes her own arousal ache pleasantly, so she indulges in the action once more. After repeating the action a fourth time, her mouth moves away in order to kiss along his inner thighs softly, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Each shaky inhale is a point of pride, and when he least suspects, Claire’s mouth moves around him again, this time finding a rhythm and not moving away.

With one hand pressing flat against the wall behind him, the other tangles in her hair. He doesn’t move her, but rather uses her curls to anchor himself. He focuses on the feel of them, the way they stretch but spring back to life instantly. He thinks of anything to keep from coming too soon, though she certainly is hell-bent.

“I’m no’—” he curses in Gaelic, wondering if this is how she feels when he’s greedy for her. “Mas e do thoil e, Sassenach,” he pleads, and the hand against the old castle wall attempts to clutch the stone as his body begins to tense.

It’s impossible to resist when he says please, and so she moves intently, closing her eyes as she focuses not on what she’s doing necessarily, but on him. The way the pads of his fingers grip her shoulders instead of his nails (she offers no such courtesy), and the way he’s careful not to actually pull her hair. His breathing, where before he took controlled but shaky breaths, is now panting gasps, each sound beginning to hitch. When she knows he’s going to come, one hand drags its way up his inner thigh to feel the way his muscles tighten, and the loud groan of her name is enough that she can feel the vibration from his body to her palm.

He loses it completely after that, head dropping back as his vision darkens and he’s sure he’s left his body. When pleasure begins to ebb and his heart seems content not to pound out of his chest, Jamie still can’t open his eyes. Her hands are warm on his body, but eventually she tucks him back into his boxers and jeans before standing. It’s then that he finally looks at her, a lopsided and lazy grin greeting her.

“Are you happy, Sassenach?”

As his arms envelop her, Claire rests her head so that she can listen to the now-normal beat of his heart.

“Aye, Jamie,” she replies, kissing his chest tenderly before raising her head to look at him. “I am.”

#outlander #outlander fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #market price #my fic

178 notes · View notes

callenennis · 4 years ago

Note

Hey so I asked earlier if requests were open. Could you please write a fanfic of Ango & a criminal female s/o. She’d be a drug dealer working for a drug lord (like Jesse Pinkman). She & her drug lord operate under pseudonyms. There‘s an outbreak of deaths from drug addiction in Yokohama and related shootings & Ango has been trying to hunt them down. It’s a cat-mouse game when him & is a/o are together. He’s been oblivious to his s/o’s involvement until he arrives at their meth lab. Thanks! 😊

Firstly, my sincerest of apologies for the late response on this request, I’ve just started college where I live so I’m trying to balance this blog and my schooling. Secondly, thank you so much for the request! I was so excited when I saw it! Thirdly, I’ve never seen Breaking Bad before so I really hope I did Jesse Pickman justice.

Enjoy!

Raise Hell

Synopsis: When a dangerous drug outbreak starts killing the citizens of Yokohama, Ango Sakaguchi is tasked to investigate; unbeknownst that he’s already met with one of the ringleaders, his girlfriend.

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing: Ango Sakaguchi X Female Reader

Genre: Angst, Fanfiction

Warnings: Illegal Drugs, Violence, Swearing, Blood, Bombs, and Death

Rating: 17+

Word Count: 1.9k

——————————————————————————————-

Meth isn’t as terribly difficult to make than most people give it credit for. Most every ingredient can be found with items from your average supermarket for a cheap total, no need for plants or needles, you truly can’t get any easier than that. Once you’ve been in the drug trade from so many years you pick up a few things: One, if you really don’t want to get caught, destroy whatever remnant of your life you had before. Burn anything that would tie you down or be held against you. If you really want to make sure of this, just do what I did, stage your own death. Some type of terrible car accident where the car catches on fire or explodes will do fine. Two, Become a chameleon. The old you is dead and gone forever and you’ll need to blend in with the populous now so no extravagant purchases with your new-found wealth. Which brings us to number Three, hide any and all suspicious amount of money you have, and no, I’m not talking about a stupid shoebox in the closet type shit. I talking under the floorboards before sealing them tight to blend in with the rest of the ground, wooden framework of your furniture, the back of a painting in a frame, false bottoms in drawers, somewhere hidden but accessible in emergencies.

Out of everything I fabricated and lied about there was one thing I couldn’t make up, how much fun it was to keep toying with my boyfriend, Ango Sakaguchi. For over three years we’ve been playing this cat and mouse, having gotten so close to being caught and thrown in prison only made my desire to continue stronger. With each close encounter sending a rush of adrenaline through my body as a devilish smirk would spread across my lips. I know I shouldn’t keep going, I know I should have jumped ship as soon as I heard Ango was investigating the drug-related deaths and shootings that kept growing. Every nerve in my body was shouting, screaming at me to stop will I’m ahead, you don’t have to keep going, you can stop and have a normal 9-5 life with Ango, have a normal life, get married... but I couldn’t. This is all I’ve known for so long, my hands have long been stained with dirty money, long been stained with the chemicals and lives I’ve taken by proxy, I can’t imagine doing anything else. I couldn’t, I’m not leaving Kazuki. We’ve been in this game together for too long, and I intend to see it through to the end. “Hey babe, I gotta run out for a minute and help Hiroshi, okay?” I called out using Kazuki’s alias as I pull my arms through the coat, peaking my head into his office.

Ango hardly looked up from his paperwork, simply humming in response as he continued working on his mound of paperwork. I leaned my body against the doorframe, my eyes softening upon seeing the dark circles forming under his light-colored eyes. Seeing him so overworked and exhausted but still trudging on for the sake of work made me feel awful. Especially now when his desk is littered with crime scene photos, autopsies, and blurry CCTV photos of masked people, people I know, and try to protect all while simultaneously working against them. An unwilling double agent if you will. I quietly walked over to Angos’ hunched over form, placing my hands on his tense shoulder while carefully massaging them. “Ango,” I spoke again softly, “I think you need to take a break.”

“I wish I could,” he answered leaning against the back of his chair, lulling his head back to look at me. I arched my brows in worry upon seeing his face up close: eyes half open, hair slightly tousled, brown kobicha tie disheveled, his thin frames glasses slipping down his nose. “The bad guys are still going to be there tomorrow, babe” I hummed pushing his glasses up, giggling at his bashful face. I placed a loving kiss on his forehead, combing my hands through his hair making him close his eyes and hum. “You’ll be better focused tomorrow, I mean who knows? Maybe they’ll slip up while your sleeping.”

“That’s why I need to keep working,” he argued opening his eyes slightly, struggling to keep them open with each slow blink. I sighed, slightly annoyed at his continued persistence, “Please Ango, it’s not healthy to stay up for so long” I pleaded, wrapping my arms around him in a loving hug. “If you go to sleep now I’ll make you breakfast in the morning” I heard him laugh slightly at my offer. “You know me too well,” I smiled in return, knowing he couldn’t resist my cooking before responding, “You’re not terribly hard to read.” I watched him walk out of his office sluggishly while I cleaned the papers littered across his desk, my eyes catching on an autopsy report. I scanned through the sheet diligently looking at the chemicals found in the victim: Ephedrine, Ammonia, Gasoline, Toluene, Freon- my heart dropped upon reading the final ingredient.

“Son of a bitch” I cursed pulling at my phone, taking a quick picture before hastily packing up the rest of the paperwork. My shoes were hardly tied as I rushed out the door through the labyrinth of back alleys towards the lab while pulling my mask on, busting down the door to Kazuki’s office. His head shot up upon my loud entrance, narrowing his eyes in annoyance as he spat out, “you know damn well how much that door costs.”

“That door’s not gonna mean shit soon, we got a problem” I barked back, my voice slightly muffled though still carrying an authoritarian tone, slamming my fist on his desk. “If it’s about the overdoses we already tweaked the ingredients for a new batch,” he said with a bored tone kicking his feet up, “Our sales will be back to normal by tomorrow.”

“Like that’s gonna do shit, look,” I said pulling up the photo and sliding my phone towards him, “read the chemicals.” His long fingers picked up the photo, carefully reading the words before seeing his eyes expand in shock, “Fuck, that’s-”

“Catecholamine and Tolcapone, and way too much if it” I interrupted looking at his face, knowing that we were thinking the same thing, there’s a spy in our ranks. Swiftly we started scanning through the files on every older member in our group or any younger member with elderly relatives. These aren’t your typical over the counter chemicals you get at the corner store, this is regulated, controlled. Chemicals and drugs found in prescription medications you can’t simply trick a doctor into giving you. With enough Catecholamine and Tolcapne in someone’s body there a ticking time bomb of rage with virtually no impulse control. Mix that with all of the chemicals in meth, and you’ve got an adrenaline run, short-tempered, raging, and homicidal machine who won’t stop until their heart inevitably either explodes or stops altogether. My fingers continued to grow more cramped and sore with each page turn until finally finding it. “Where’s Asuka Miyazaki?” Kazuki’s head shot up so fast I thought he’s broken it, face painted in horror, “the roof!”

We both dashed up the towering flight of stairs at breakneck speed, as I lagged behind with each tripping over my own half tied shoes; letting Kazuki rush passed me like lightning up several flights, bursting through the door. Before I could take another step to join him I froze, taking a deep breath, smelling something... off. I couldn’t quite place it for a moment trying to find the right words. BO? Sewer Water? Burned-out matches? My blood ran freezing cold upon realizing the smell, rotten eggs. Methane gas. That son of a bitch is gonna blow the whole Ward sky high! My body took over before my mind could, bare feet leaping down each landing and step, feeling my ankle twist and snap once jumping onto the ground floor. I bit my lip, fighting back the grueling pain and urge to curse with each step towards the emergency alarm. I need to keep going. If I can pull it the alarm the sprinklers should help rid any gas or flames. One more, I screamed at myself, just one more-

The moment my fingers brushed against the alarm the building came to life with overwhelming heat and flame, I pulled the alarm just seconds later though it did nothing against the rapidly growing inferno. The following explosions’ shockwave hurled me through the lab walls like a freshly sharpened knife to paper; before I was slammed into something hard, knocking the wind out of me before crashing to the ground. Desperately I gasped for air, feeling my broken ribs stab into my lungs with each breath. My right eye struggled to keep open and see through my mask, my vision blurred and distorted with each moment. The only sound I heard was the deafening ringing in my ears as summoning any remaining strength to flip over to my chest; my ribs further stabbing into my lungs. I outstretched my right arm attempting to pull myself up, seeing the deep gashes littered with shards of glass and rubble bleed profusely onto the ground. The sight itself nearly made me vomit. As the ringing in my ears cleared I heard the muffled sound of breaking glass and footsteps come closer before stopping near me. I craned my head painfully towards the sound, only to find myself peering down the barrel of a gun I’d never dreamed of being on the other end of.

Angos’ gun. Cocked and loaded, his finger itching to pull the trigger and end my life right there. I could feel his harsh glare on me, reflecting all of the pent up emotions he’d been harboring for months: rage, frustration, loathing, murder, all shooting through his veins. A moment of suffocating tension mixed in the air with smoke and iron. “Who are you?” Ango asked, pure venom dripping from each word uncharacteristically, it was terrifying. His sharp glare burning into my skin hotter than the flames around us, the feeling of defeat finally creeping into my broken bones. As if on cue, the white theater mask covering my face feel onto the rubble littered ground like a loud clattered, exposing my bloodied and bruised face.

Ango’s eyes widened in disbelief, his once steady hand holding the gun now beginning to shake as his mind tried to piece together what he was seeing. His lover—the one he trusted more than anyone else—and the two drug lords he’d been hunting. They can’t be the same, they couldn’t be. I could see he didn’t want to believe it, it’s not possible, I’ve been so loving, so kind, there’s no way she would never be apart of this. But he couldn’t deny it, with each moment that passed the more I saw the gears in his head click. Every unanswered question, botched raid, failed trap, all of the missing pieces coming together. My unexpected errand runs, late nights out, surprise visits to Hiroshi, no, The Jesters place. It lined up perfectly. But there was still one question he wanted to know, need to know. “Why?” he spoke, voice barely above a whisper, salty tears threatened to run down his cheeks, an expression of unfathomable hurt and betrayal painting his face. Before he could speak another word, my head fell against the cement ground, vision fading to black as I steadily suffocated on my blood. With my final breath, I choked out the answer...

“For... him... For... Kazu...ki”

#writing request #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs angst #bsd x reader #bsd #bsd fanfic #bsd Ango #ango sakaguchi #requests are open #bsd headcanons #bsd scenarios #bsd imagines

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