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starthiief · 2 years ago

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IN HIS ARMS TONIGHT.

Donald Malarkey x (implied medic) non-binary Reader

🏷️: fluff, subtle (?) hurt/comfort

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical injuries (it's called 'wounded', peanut)

A/N: I never expected to fall this deep in the trenches for this show, but I here I am with my first attempt at fanfic in literal years!

The world was gray, like the steaming dinner that filled your tin cup, or the endless plumes of smoke that surrounded you. Gray like your dismal tomorrow, murky and uncertain.

Except for when it was white, like the freshly fallen snow that crunched beneath worn leather boots; or the sickly pallor of the faces that surrounded you, haunted by the white nothingness beyond the horizon.

Except for when it was red, like the rosy cheeks of the men, flushed from the adrenaline of narrowly surviving another attack. Red like the smoke bombs to signal the planes, hoping and praying supplies make it to them. Red like the spilled blood.

Oh, the blood, the blood…

“Doc.”

Fingers snapping together in front of your face to draw your attention up from the stained makeshift bandage currently fastened tightly around your thigh that you had been anxiously fiddling with while deep in thought.

“Malark, hey. What’s, um, what's good?” you asked, tucking your hands under the armpits of your jacket for what little warmth you could find, and to stop yourself from meddling with the bandage. As much as you probably should change it soon, supplies were running so low that everyone had to make do with things as they were. Your own medkit held German bandages and long strips of cloth from your old nursing uniform, now long abandoned for a uniform that matched the everyone else's winter gear.

“What’s good?” Don reiterated, his voice a soft interlude to the tumultuous thoughts you had been drowning in. “I’ll have to get back to you on the good… not to sound ungrateful to be here in an active warzone, of course.”

The sudden reappearance of his sarcasm was startling for a moment, it was a flicker of the man you’d met so very long ago. Back when you as bright-eyed and eager as the replacements who made you nervous now. The only thing you were confident had stayed the same since then was the incredible soft spot you maintained for one Donald Malarkey.

“Wow. You know, I never took you for being such a hard man to please. I don't see what you could possibly hate about our current circumstance,” you quipped.

And good heavens. That smile. Though it only ghosted his lips, it was nice to know he still knew how to do that. It’d been so long since you had last seen it.

“You may have a point. It’s a tropical paradise between all the snow, earth-rattling bombs, and slop for supper every night,” he continued sarcastically. Don then adjusted the strap of his rifle on his shoulder, taking a seat on the lip of your foxhole, letting his crusty old boots dangle beside you.

“Don’t forget the amazing weather!”

“Oh, it’s wonderful. I was thinking about writing home about it.”

“Yeah, we’re practically living the high life here!” You laughed and scooted over in the foxhole to make room for him. If you were going to keep chatting, you figured you might as well make sure he was tucked in somewhere safe before the next barrage of bombs came crashing down.

“Fancy hotels, indoor plumbing, and a nice hot meal with potatoes and steak? Overrated, it’s been done to death,” he scoffed.

“But this? Now this is something only the privileged few will ever experience," you tacked on, earning an eyeroll that was made fond by his begrudging smile.

Hopping into the hole, Donald Malarkey made himself right at home in your makeshift nest of dirt, empty bullet shells, and misery. You could smell cigarettes and sweat wafting off of him as you peeled your blanket back just long enough to let him under it, trying to trap as much of your generated heat beneath it to stave away the chilly air.

“I don’t know about you, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here with my favorite person in the whole wide world.” His arm carefully wrapped around your shoulders, guiding you closer against him — effectively igniting that familiar old flame in your stomach. It was such a startlingly juvenile and innocent sensation, you truly didn’t know you could still feel like that after all the aging you had done in the last couple of weeks spent in this forsaken forest.

Bashful, you nuzzled against the chest of his jacket, hiding your face from his immediate view while holding desperately onto this rare moment of normalcy.

If you closed your eyes, you probably could’ve imagined the two of you were just a regular couple, canoodling in the backseat of his car at some drive-in movie back home. Instead, you watched the way his hand reached down to delicately run across the stained bandage on your thigh.

“How is it?”

“Well, y’all don’t get to send me to the glue factory just yet.”

A puff of air snorted from Malarkey’s nose, visible in the freezing air. “Doc, there’s no way we would ever send you to a glue factory. The big farm upstate, maybe. But never the glue factory."

“Wow, that really means a lot!"

“Nothin’ but the best for my honey.”

“Oh, my~!” you pressed a hand delicately against your cheek and feigned a dramatic swoon like the big silver screen starlets.

Expecting the witty back and forth to continue, it was a surprise when all that greeted you was nothing.

Looking over at him, you were ready to scold him for daring to fall asleep mid-conversation. Instead, those lovely eyes of his were focused intently on you, a genuine smile softening his features once again.

“I’ve missed this,” his voice as smooth as the cashmere gloves he had helped you slip on the very first time you had met in that little old bar a long, long time ago. The two of you had been different then, still so very innocent, full of folly, and raring to be deployed for war.

“I missed this too.” You speak quietly, afraid you might startle yourself awake and discover this had all been one big reverie if you were too loud.

“I think this is the most privacy we’ve had in a long, long time.”

“I love ‘em to death, but it’s almost ridiculous how often the fellas just happen to interrupt our dates. Sometimes I just want to eat chocolate squares and take inventory of my medkit with my sweetie, y’know?” That earned a chuckle from the both of you.

“That’s paratroopers for you. If they’re anything, they’re audacious as hell. Have to be if they're willing to get between you and your chocolate." Another beat of silence filled the foxhole, resting upon your laps until Donald cleared his throat and he said: “I think I love you.”

Steeping your soul in the words you never knew you needed so dearly, a wobbly smile wrested upon your lips. In a little while, you could be scared and fearful of what it meant to finally say the quiet part of your relationship out loud. For now, it was simply a marvel just how sweet a balm it was upon all the little scratches and bruises this world had left upon you.

“I know I love you,” you said.

“I wouldn’t want to count bandages with anyone else.” Then he leaned over and kissed your cheek once, twice, and then once more just for good measure. And just like that, he had your face burning warm and your heart doing delighted cartwheels in your chest as you pressed a daring kiss to his lips.

It was tempting to throw caution to the wind and indulge in the taste of cigarette smoke and a budding hope for more time. Oh, how easy it would be to devour him, to unfasten his jacket and sink your teeth into the junction of his neck. You could stake your claim and smile against his skin when you made him whimper your name, melting him into a lovely mess just for you. In your mind’s eye, you knew exactly how you’d lose yourself in the one man who had come to mean so much to you.

SNAP!

A stray shot in the far distance sobered you, making your body go rigid as your ears strained to listen for any footsteps or heavy rasps of breathing above. There was nothing, only the distant chatter of some men about an apprehended prisoner and not about the fraternization happening in your foxhole.

The risks still weren’t worth trading all of this away. All of him. How would you find any peace of mind if you were transferred? At least as things were now, you could keep him close. There was an undeniable comfort in being able to reach out and know Donald was still with you and whole. All the worries would plague you, forming a new ghost to haunt you at your lowest moments…

Donald suddenly squeezed your leg, once against pulling you from your worried fretting.

He was good at that, even if you weren’t sure he was entirely aware of it. Between his good instincts and fast thinking, it was hard to tell which part was acting sometimes. But either was reassuring, and there was hardly a better cure than his steadying presence wrapping you up, treating you with a kindness the rest of the world did not.

It was only after a moment of sitting side by side with your eyes closed, taking slow and steadying breaths, did you realize that the gentle finger looping fondly against your leg had actually been scribbling something against that strip of old bandage. It was a hidden message meant only for him, and now you.

With a little concentration, you realized that Donald had been lovingly etching your names into your skin over and over again, punctuated only by ‘I love you’.

And if you were certain of anything, it was the fact that Bastogne was its own special circle of Hell. The sky was almost permanently stained with smoke, obscuring any sense of time as the hours all melted together to create an endless day intercepted by a sudden night. Gone were the dusky pinks of the early morning sun and orange sherbet evenings.

Hell with a capital 'H'.

But that night, nestled close against Donald in that little foxhole, your world was gray like the wool blanket that kept you snug together, white like the melting snow on his shoes, and red like his beard that scratched against the temple of your forehead as he hummed some old drinking song.

And for just one moment, this fractured world you navigated was perfect enough.

#band of brothers #donald malarkey x reader

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spiritualfun · 2 years ago

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How do the Zodiac Signs handle cuffing season?

Ahhh…. it’s cuffing season. For the last couple of days it’s been getting colder and colder in my part of the world and I’m like: somebody cuff me, really anybody, I need to be warm. Lol.

Anyways, while I’m saying that, I fully know my Aqua sun has a really hard time giving up freedom unless it’s for someone that answers the ridiculously high standards of my Virgo moon. But hey, why can’t my Capricorn Venus dream of someone loyal to devote the rest of my life to, right?

But enough about me. Let’s talk about how each zodiac sign is going to handle cuffing season.

Aries is probably the zodiac sign who’s gonna cuff someone in an impulse. Like: Oh my God, it’s cuffing season, yo random person, come over here and hold me tight. And then will feel like they won, being the first of their friends to cuff someone.

Taurus will just be taking it too slowly and end up staying single through cuffing season. Instead, they will just consume a lot of soul food and buy some comfy designer blankets to keep them warm while they watch tv on their couch. Winter sleep it is.

Gemini is unable to decide between their options. So, it’s not going to be a cuff. It’s just going to be dating multiple people at the same time like always.

Was Cancer even single? Probably not. So, they’re thinking about their Christmas plans while they’re making hot cocoa for their significant other.

Leo is just going to go for the first one giving them attention. And will stay loyal as long as the attention isn’t wavering.

Virgo is going to dissect every suitor and realize none of them meets their standards so end up staying single through cuffing season. But, at least for them it was a conscious decision.

Libra is going to go back and forth between two people trying to see which one will bring them the most harmonious, lovey-dovey feelings through cuffing season. Without taking up too much of their space and time. It's about balance after all.

Scorpio becomes obsessed about the idea of getting cuffed, will fall for someone but keep it a secret and when that person ends up being cuffed by someone else, Scorpio will be hurt and becomes very jealous about it.

Sagittarius won’t even care because they already booked a tropical vacation to Bali to study Buddhism with a monk or something.

Capricorn isn’t going to spend time being cuffed for just a season. They have goals to reach, promotions to earn, and studies to finish. That’s why they end up on top. Besides, their paper will keep them warm.

Aquarius is straight up going to go for a friends with benefits situation. And when they finally end up falling in love at the end of cuffing season, their FWB became tired of waiting to be cuffed for real and already moved on.

Pisces will be fantasizing and romanticizing about meeting their soulmate. There will be suitors for them to cuff but none of them will be able to live up to the person they’ve been dreaming of. So, they’ll just end up writing poems while sitting alone in their room.

What's your sign and how do you handle cuffing season?

#zodiac signs #zodiac stereotypes #zodiac stuff #astro fluff #astro fanfic #astro community #ariesgang #taurus #gemini #cancer #leogang #virgo sun #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #cuffing season

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feathers-scales-and-tails · 5 years ago

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My ‘unhealthy’ chickens

My blog has a lot of cute chicken photos on it, and sometimes I get comments such as “wow I want a chicken like that!” Which is lovely! I’m glad to spread the chicken love! However I want to take a second to address this. Just like with dogs, there are many breeds of chicken which are unhealthy and have health consequences because of this. I have a couple of birds like this. I just want to make people aware that if they seriously want a bird like this, to take into account what health issues may come with them.

Sooty - Frizzle feathers

Sooty is a fan favourite, and one of my favourites too. I do admit that I love the frizzle feather gene, it just looks so cool! However frizzle feathering causes some issues and I didn’t intentionally get a frizzle, Sooty hatched from a mystery egg. Her Dad was the only frizzle in the flock, with 13 other roosters, so she was a surprise to say the least!

Weather intolerance: Due to the feathers sticking out like that, birds can’t warm up in the cold since their feathers don’t provide a protective barrier and body heat escapes. This also means they have no natural shelter from rain and wind. Sooty doesn’t have to worry about any of this, it’s never cold where I live and she lives inside. She really struggles in the heat, however that’s likely due to her leg and foot feathering which I’ll discuss later, rather than the frizzle feathering.

Flight: Birds can’t fly well, since their primary wing feathers are curled or brittle. This puts them at risk of leg and spinal injuries if they try to fly from too large a height. Sooty did severe nervous damage to her spine when she was 8 weeks old, causing her to become paralysed in the legs for 3 months. Thankfully, she fully recovered after 5 months of physiotherapy.

Sooty’s wings look like this. Not all frizzle feathered birds have flights this poor, however it is a potential consequence of the feather type.

Communication: Another issue frizzle feathers cause is communication within a flock. Sooty used to get pecked a lot by her top hen Kath, because Kath thinks Sooty is always challenging her to fight! Chickens use their neck feathers, called hackle feathers, to communicate a whole bunch of things. From fear, to aggression, to even asking another flock member to clean their feathers. Since frizzle feathers stick out like that, the bird struggles to move them into the positions used for communication so can’t talk to their flock very well. Sooty’s curled hackle feathers make it look like she’s always challenging another hen to a fight

You can see how those raised hackles kinda look like Sooty’s ‘mane’ of curled neck feathers! Thankfully, Sooty is second in command and her head hen, Kath, seems to have learnt that Sooty just looks like that! So she doesn’t get attacked very frequently anymore.

Unethical breeding: The gene which causes frizzle feathers in homozygous form (two copies of the gene) also causes serious issues. These birds are called Frazzles or ‘over frizzled’ and their feathers are very weak, often falling out and leaving the bird naked. It can be painful for them, and if they’re left outside, they certainly wouldn’t survive. Therefore frizzles should never be bred together. To breed frizzles you should use a frizzle feathered bird with a smooth feathered bird. However, this means you hatch only 50% frizzles, so some unethical breeders breed frizzle x frizzle to reduce the amount of smooth feathered birds they get.

A Frazzle chicken

Heart failure: These feathers have also been linked with enlarged hearts, increasing risk of heart failure. Since the feathers cause loss of body heat, it causes an increase in metabolism and other physiological functions to keep the body temperature at the appropriate level. This means the heart has to work harder, increasing its size and putting more strain on it. Sooty tires out easier, and when she used to be out ranging she’d frequently come inside to sleep on the couch while her flock was still outside having fun. I could see this putting them more at risk of predation, since if they’re already tired they don’t have the same stamina of another bird to flee a predator.

Solo - Heavy foot/leg feathering

Not the most flattering photo of her but the best one I have to show her foot feathering! As you can see she was quite cranky with me! She’s a Silkie X Pekin, which are both breeds known to have heavily feathered legs. There are many breeds with healthy foot feathering, such as Langshans

But some like the show-type Pekin bantam, have a number of issues associated with their foot feathering. Here’s a Pekin in comparison to the Langshan above

As you can see the feathering is much much heavier!

Mobility: Very heavy leg and foot feathering significantly reduces mobility. The large feathers make it harder to move toes, making perching more difficult, and are a tripping hazard. Solo is always tripping over, stumbling, and ‘shuffling’ when she walks since her feet impair her movement a significant amount. I’m probably going to cut her foot feathers off so she can move about easier. They’d never hindered her movement until now, this molt they grew in humongous for some reason. Obviously having a built in tripping hazard isn’t a good idea, since it predisposes the bird to a higher risk of leg injuries.

Thermotegulation: As mentioned above, legs and feet are very important in helping a bird regulate their temperature. Lightly feathered legs like the Langshan has don’t have this issue, since the bird has majority of its foot free to cool down with. Heavily feathered legs like the pekin provide little surface area to cool down with, so the birds can really struggle in hot weather. Solo is one of our least heat tolerant birds, and she thankfully has wattles and a comb unlike poor Silkies!

Cleanliness: Heavily feathered feet get disgusting! They’re more prone to getting dirty and are harder for the birds to keep clean. Solo always has poop, sticks, food, mud, and all sorts of other gunk crusted into her foot feathering. I have to clean them quite frequently so that she doesn’t get bacterial build up.

Other health ailments: In my experience, heavily feathered feet tend to be a beacon for related leg and foot health issues. We don’t have to worry about this where I live, but foot feathers can get wet in snow and heighten frostbite risk for toes. Although I don’t have to worry about the cold, sadly these foot feathers also have heat related issues! I live in a sub-tropical environment, so humidity levels get pretty high here. Bacteria loves humidity. Solo has had a bad case of Bumblefoot which was really hard to treat due to this humidity. Sweep, another bird with heavy foot feathering, has had 2 cases of bumblefoot now. I’ve never had a clean-legged bird get bumblefoot, so it’s definitely linked to trapping bacteria and humidity. I haven’t had to deal with this parasite myself, but apparently feather-legged breeds are more prone to Scaly-leg mite too.

Cujo - Heavy layer breeds

Cujo is a Hamburg, sometimes referrred to as ‘Everlayers’ since they have a reputation for reliably laying an egg every day. They rarely go broody, and if they do are very easy to dissuade. I am very against production breeds if they’re not within an agricultural industry, where they have a purpose, since it tragically shortens their lives so much. The Hamburgs lay on average 200 eggs annually, which isn’t too bad and makes them a healthier layer breed, but it’s certainly heavier laying than most of the other breeds I have. Cujo is actually very healthy, I took great care in picking a breeder to get her from and most of his birds are lighter layers than they ‘should’ be. Cujo was laying 3-4 eggs a week before her current molt, much better than the 5-7 her breed has a reputation for.

Heart failure: One of the most frequent ends to laying birds is heart failure. Their bodies are under so much stress to make an egg every day that their bodies eventually just give up, usually from heart failure.

They don’t go broody: A lot of people don’t like broody hens, since they stop laying and sit on their nest all day, however I really like them. A broody hen gets a much needed break from laying eggs! Some breeds continue to lay eggs over winter, and some birds don’t stop laying when they molt if it’s a light one. So broodies give the bird a choice to stop laying and sit on eggs when she wants, if she didn’t get a break over winter or molt. Breeding this behaviour out of production breeds contributes to their issues, since they can’t take that break.

Shortened life span: Due to the strain mass egg production puts on their bodies, average lifespan is 3-4 years compared to the 6-10+ of healthy heritage breeds. I had a utility leghorn as a pet many years ago, her heart tragically gave out on her one day while I wasn’t home. She was dirtbathing in her favourite spot when it happened, so I hope to think it was a peaceful end. She was only 2 years old.

Reproductive complications: Heavy layer breeds are more prone to experiencing issues with their reproductive tract. This includes cancers, tumours, prolapses, egg binding, and egg yolk peritonitis (infection). They’re also more prone to nutrient deficiencies, especially with calcium, since it takes so much out of them to lay eggs. This is easily preventable with a balanced diet, however if calcium deficiency does occur the hen can suffer from brittle bones.

Sweep - Aggressive breeds

Now Sweep isn’t nearly as bad as this title frames her to be, but it’s still worth a mention. We can only guess what her parentage is since she came from mystery eggs, but we think Sweep is an Old English Game cross Pekin. In Australia, Old English Game are a hyper aggressive breed. They were bred for the cruel sport of cockfighting, where two roosters are forced to fight to the death. Thankfully this sport is now criminalised, but nobody bred the aggressiveness out of this breed.

Injury risk: hyper aggressive breeds pose a greater risk of injury mainly to other flock mates, but also to themselves. These birds often antagonise others despite there not really being a reason to, resulting in more fighting, disharmony, and injury within a flock. If another bird is stronger than them and gets sick of their shit, they themselves could be seriously hurt since they often don’t know when to back down from a fight like non-aggressive birds do. Sweep has to be housed separate from my main flock with her mother, Solo for company. She has tried many times to outrank birds in my main flock but her fighting is very brutal compared to the normal pecking order fights. She aims for the eyes, and came close to blinding a bird once before, I can’t risk that sort of injury.

Mortality risk: continuing on from that first point, some individuals will take their aggressiveness too far and kill fellow flock mates. What might start out as a simple pecking order fight can turn very bloody and very brutal with these breeds fast. Roosters can kill hens and hens can kill hens. This obviously should never happen in well bred, good tempered birds. I do not say this jokingly when I say that Sweep and Sooty would kill each other if I let them. They’re both Pekin X Old English, and although Sooty is good with other birds, she’s terrible with Sweep. I’m hoping Sweep will mellow with age (she’s currently 2) and I can integrate her and Solo as part of Blossom’s flock.

Social interaction: I think this is something a lot of people don’t seem to consider, but having hyper aggressive birds which have to be housed seperate will obviously hugely impact upon their social needs. It doesn’t matter how aggressive the bird is, a chicken is, and always will be, a social animal. They need companionship, and while this can be provided by us, it’s easiest to provide it with other chickens. Keeping a social animal by itself, never letting it interact with others, and not providing that companionship yourself is incredibly inhumane in my opinion. It doesn’t matter if that bird is incapable of interacting without trying to kill the others, the fact is that this animal is still hardwired to live in a social group. By breeding such aggressive animals, it’s very cruel since it deprives them of such a basic need.

Now this post isn’t to say people can’t get a breed if they like it but it has health consequences, because something like those heavy foot feathers don’t cause the bird any harm or pain in itself, it’s just a consequence of poor management. So if you’re willing to do the work to ensure those features don’t hinder the animals quality of life, then excellent! Go ahead and get those basketball-shaped Pekin lads! This post was merely a reminder to think critically and research any animal/breed before you get them, and to make sure you’re prepared for any future consequences or adjustments for that animal/breed. Sooty and Solo need fans set up on their pens during the Summer, Sweep needs a seperate coop, and all three need adjusted perches and weekly foot health checks because of their heavily feathered feet. Once again, the importance of you screening for ethical, responsible breeders is crucial when deciding to bring a new family member home.

Thanks for reading!

#myposts #my posts #feathers #petblr #animalblr #chickenblr #birdblr #birblr #pet chicken #long post #info

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obxwhore · 5 years ago

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The Night It Happened - Chapter One

Summary: It’s been two years since Ariana West, the fifth member of the Pogues vanished out of nowhere. After months of searching, they had no choice but to give up and her disappearance was left a mystery to her family and her best friends. After having the summer of their lives, the four remaining Pogues are met with shock when their missing friend stumbles into John B’s backyard, bloody and bruised. Ariana having no recollection of where she had been, and the group having very little trust with the law enforcement of Outer Banks, they rush to find out what happened to Ariana before it happens again.

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Cursing, violence, mentions of kidnapping, mentions and images of abuse.

A/N: Hello! Thank you guys so much for the positive reception I’ve been getting from the prologue. I was really nervous to put my writing out there, so it really means a lot. This is the first official chapter. I’ve written and rewritten it probably around four or five times and I’m pretty happy with the end result. Let me know what you guys think! I’m still trying to figure out where I want to go with the story, but I’ll try to keep updates as consistent as possible.

Find the prologue here: https://obxwhore.tumblr.com/post/620367150401585152/the-night-it-happened-prologue

Two Years Later; the Winter after the Treasure Hunt.

John B sat in a hammock in front of his house, watching his breath escape his mouth in clouds as it entered the cool air of a North Carolina winter. John B didn’t very much like cold weather, much preferring the feeling of crisp Atlantic waves on a hot summer day. But for some reason, he was content with the icy feeling of this year’s twilight. Perhaps it was because the cold reminded him of emptiness, the feeling that has been stalking him since he and Sarah returned from sea, gold-less. Disappointment flooded his veins every time he looked at a photo of his late father, feeling like a letdown. A failure. Drowning in the idea of what could’ve been. Regardless, the love of his best friends and his girlfriend have kept him afloat. It kept him comfortable.

The voice of his best friend JJ Maybank invaded his ears as he tuned back into the conversation currently being held between the Pogues and Sarah.

“-and when Barry had us all on the side of the road with a gun pointed at us.” JJ said, laughter evading his lips as if the near death experience was the funniest thing to ever happen to him.

“Or when John B literally drove a boat into the middle of a tropical storm.” Pope added.

“I’m just glad we’re all okay and alive.” John B muttered, not quite in the mood for reminiscing.

“We should go on another adventure,” JJ had a devilish smirk on his face, “I haven’t felt a rush like that since school started back up.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for a good reason.” Kiara added.

“Maybe you should just focus on getting good grades. That should be an adventure all on its own.” John B joked.

“Easy for you to say, high school drop out.” JJ threw back. John B hadn’t actually dropped out, he just opted to take all of his classes online. He couldn’t bear the thought of returning to school, life being just as boring as it was before. So he didn’t. Sarah had bought him a fancy new laptop so that he could get all of his work done and for the most part, he did.

“Think about it guys,” JJ continued, “the Pogues and the Kook, back in action!”

“And what do you suggest we do now? What kind of quest do you see for us, oh wise one?” Pope retorted.

“We could run drugs.” JJ suggested bluntly.

“I think not.” Kiara stated, not amused.

“I don’t think I can afford another ‘quote-on-quote’ adventure. Ever since I was emancipated, Sheriff Shoupe has been up my ass making sure I don’t mess up.” John B added. After the murder charges against John B were dropped, he fought with CPS tooth-and-nail to stay on the island. He got a job at a surf shop and makes just enough money to stay afloat.

Rafe Cameron ended up getting charged with the murder of Sheriff Peterkin and Wade Cameron got charged with the murder of John B’s father, attempted murder on John B, and a few other charges surrounding his involvement with the murder of Peterkin. The trials for the father-and-son duo are still in progress. As a result of Wade’s arrest, no one knows if the gold ever actually made it to Nassau and John B is positive that Wade will never tell him.

“Fine,” JJ huffed, “then I guess I’ll just close my eyes and relive last summer over and over again.”

“I wish Ariana was there to enjoy it with us.” Kiara hadn’t meant to say it out loud, it just slipped. A blanket of solemnness fell over the group as they thought about their missing friend. Sarah looked down, feeling awkward at the mention of the girl that used to be a part of the group. She wished she had been able to get to know Ariana. They had met a few times, but they had never gone past surface level conversation because of the Pogues vs Kooks war. With the way the Pogues talk about her, she was sure they would’ve been great friends.

“I miss her.” JJ added, looking down as if to hide his face from his friends. Everyone agreed with him. Life after Ariana was hollow, but at the same time, they always felt her with them. No matter what they’re doing or how long it’s been, she lives in the back of their heads as a distant memory; a beacon of light when the darkness start to take over. When JJ’s dad unleashes his rage onto him, she is there in his head to tell him that everything is going to be okay. When Pope is thrown around by stray kooks during his grocery runs, she is there in his head to help him fight them off. When Kiara needs someone to talk to, Ari is there to hold her hand and listen to her vent. And finally, when John B is feeling utterly alone, Ariana is there to remind his that he’s not. That’s their friend; not present, but always there.

As the others slowly fluttered back into normal conversation, John B became a victim of his thoughts once again. His mind raced with sporadic images of his lost friend. Flashes of long brown hair, white painted nails, a breathtaking smile. The smell of strawberry shampoo raiding his nostrils as soft arms envelope him in a warm hug. Moments shared between them that he cherished more than anything in the world. His best friend.

A hand creeping onto his own shook him from his thoughts. But as he smiled reassuringly as Sarah, his girlfriend, all he could think about was the smell of strawberries.

•

Hours have gone by and the group is getting ready to say their goodbyes. The smell of burning wood is starting to give them headaches and it was getting pretty late, the moon shining bright in the sky now. JJ was staying the night at the Chateau, as he usually did. His dad sat like a stick of dynamite back at the Maybank house with JJ being the match needed to light it. Some nights, the blonde boy just couldn’t handle dealing with that. Pope wanted to stay over as well but ever since the event of summer, his dad had tightened the leash considerably. Kiara had to work early the next morning and Sarah felt like John B needed space.

Pope shot up off the hammock with a stretch, a yawn quickly following his movements. Kiara moved towards the radio softly playing music, reaching to turn it off and retire it back to the porch for the night. Unknown to the group, a girl was sluggishly making her way down John B’s street towards to Chateau. The color of crimson caked her face and body like paint on a canvas, fresh blood mixing with old. Dark bruises were polka dots on her body, shades of purple and brown swirling together to create an explosion of circles and handprints. There was dry dirt covering every inch of her body as if she had rolled in it all day.

When she made it to the front yard, she hugged her arms to her chest as the cold of the air began to really take its toll. A deep exhaustion settled on her leaving her ready to collapse, but she was determined to make it back to her friends. She had made it this far so she couldn’t stop now. She finally stumbled into the groups line of vision.

Kiara was the first one to notice. She let out a sharp, loud gasp as her hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. This brought the attention of everyone else. JJ followed her line of vision and has he reached the end, he paled to the color of paper as if he’d just seen a ghost. One-by-one, Pope, Sarah, and John B turned their heads and were greeted with the sight of their missing friend.

Tangled waist length brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, leaves and twigs stuck throughout. She was wearing a white tank top and baggy black pants, no shoes adorning her bare feet. The blood, dirt, and bruises were a plague to her body. She looked like she had literally crawled out of a cheap grave.

“Holy shit” John B took a step forward. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He and the rest of the Pogues had accepted a long time ago that Ariana was most likely dead. It had never seemed probable that she would ever come back, yet here she is.

“Holy shit!” John B repeated, louder this time, as he started to make his way towards the girl. Tears flowed freely down his face as emotions slammed through him. He thought he had lost his best friend forever, but here she was. He shrugged off his jacket, the frigid air giving him goosebumps, but he could not care less.

Once he reached her, he helped her get the jacket on. She started to become overwhelmed now, tears prickling her eyes as she felt warmth for the first time in two years. Everyone had the same feeling pooling through them at the sight of their friend: dread. The state of her being sent shivers down Kiara’s spine and JJ had to literally cover his mouth to keep down the bile that threatened to make itself known.

“What the fuck, Ari?” John B said, sobs racking his body now as he gently grabbed her hand.

“I’m sorry.” Ariana whispered, breaking her silence.

“You’re sorry?” John B questioned in disbelief. He couldn’t believe that she was apologizing for her own abduction, as if it were her fault.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Kiara added, bringing Ariana’s attention to everyone else once again.

As Ariana looked up at the rest of the group, the vivid emptiness swirling through her eyes hit them like a punch to the face. The once bright emerald eyes that gleamed with excitement were now dulled and clouded. The once strong, independent, free-spirited girl was now just a hollow shell of who she used to be. And as all of this dawned upon them, John B, Pope, Kiara, Sarah, and JJ all had one thought in their minds. They were going to find and kill whoever did this to their friend.

Taglist: @thelovelydreamer17 @sunshine-27-grape-juice @starswin @minnie-mitzel

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xillveart · 6 years ago

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My Queen

Hi, yes, I’ve basically written an entire fic here because I literally couldn’t help myself. For real, I probably could have easily made this into a whole multi chapter fic but... ah well. ╮(╯∀╰)╭

Thank you so much for the request, I had fun and I hope you like it!

Words: 4760 Rating: Explicit

BTW, please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Under the cut~

Bakugou let out a heavy sigh as he stood, the cold air fogging up his breath and blocking field of vision for a moment. He wasn’t cold, but he could tell the human woman that laid near him was. She was trembling so violently that he could have sworn he could hear her teeth clattering, even though she continuously denied anything. He wasn’t sure why, as he had lived with her long enough to know exactly what she was thinking without her having to say a single word. “Just tell me what the hell is wrong with you so I can deal with it, you stupid human. Your teeth chattering is so damn annoying.”

Looking up at him, the woman pulled the fur blanket around her body tighter, the pink flushing of her cheeks giving away her embarrassment at being caught. “I-I apologize, My Lord, I’m just… A little cold. It’s the first snow of the year, so I suppose I’m still not quite used to it.”

“Odd, considering you’re from the North.” Bakugou took a second to secure a blade to his hip and shrug on his red cape, ignoring the tickling of the fur around his ears. “Don’t you have worse winters than this?”

“Yes, there are, but after being down here where it’s so warm all the time it’s… difficult to get used to again. I’m sorry for being a nuisance, but… would you be willing to get some warmer bedding?”

“That’s where I’m going. If you freeze to death, then your entire time and purpose here would be all for nothing.” His crimson glare locked onto her, able to see her so clearly in the darkness. She was so beautiful, flushed and looking up at him with innocent interest. He wanted to be the one to crawl into bed with her, to hold her body close and warm her himself, but he could not. Growing frustrated, he left the confines of his temporary home, trudging through the snow to the supply depot at the far end of the camp. Many people in his way bowed and greeted him as their leader, but he paid little to no attention to any of them.

Bakugou’s mind was elsewhere. More specifically, it was on the woman he had left in his home. Nearly a year she had been with him now, and things seemed to be turning in his favor. One of the many princesses from a large territory in the North, she had been chosen by both him and her family to be his, well… just his. Bakugou had many women at his disposal back in his fortress, all awaiting for him to return from his journey to retrieve this new woman. It was a long one, all the way across the continent both by foot and in the skies atop dragons. Bakugou would never make such a long trip just to get another woman merely for pleasure, however.

She was much more important than that. Having admired her from childhood, the young lord had been promised a princess from this territory back then, and when the time came, he chose her. The woman had fought it at first, as expected, refusing to go with him. They may had been friends as children, but she had grown to hate who he had become. A ruthless warrior, conquering lands, killing and doing whatever he pleased with his power. Being half dragon had an affect on him, filling him with a nearly unquenchable rage and lust for power that he couldn’t subside.

That was why she was here. She was his piece of the Northern lands that he couldn’t obtain through war, giving him both peace and control over a decently sized piece of territory. All he had to do now was gain her affections. There were many times along this journey that he had tried to court her, only to be rejected over and over again. He knew that she was pure, that everything he wanted was new and frightening to her. Still, no matter how badly he wanted her, his honor kept him grounded. He refused to force himself on her. He may be rude, brash, and just a brute in general, but to a woman than he truthfully had deep affections for, he would never do anything to harm her.

Sure, he had to keep her under constant supervision at first so she wouldn’t flee, and even had to keep her tethered to a chain, but that was no more. It seemed that, by now, she realized that he wasn’t going to treat her like a pile of useless trash. He took care of her, as he had always planned to, though adjusting to each other's personalities was a different matter. She was more on the shy, timid side, though there were times when she could easily snap back at him with a witty comment that would surprise him. She seemed to be able to handle his brash personality well enough, and just her presence was enough to calm him, so it was very rare that he lost his patience with her.

In truth, Bakugou just wanted her to love him, to be his wife without any sense of resentment or unhappiness. That’s why he was willing to wait for her to adjust, to be comfortable with him enough to want him as he did her. Perhaps tonight, with the chill that permeated the usually tropical forests they resided in, he would make a bit of progress. She had looked at him with such an intense interest before he left, with a soft and almost lustful look in her eye. He probably just imagined it, spurred on by his own thoughts of wanting to kiss those soft and delicate lips.

So lost in his own thoughts, Bakugou hadn’t even noticed he was home again until he found himself having to shuffle the pelts and blankets to his other arm to open up the flap of their large, multi roomed tent that made up their temporary home. With the weather that had settled in, they were grounded until the upcoming blizzard cleared, not wanting to fly with the high winds. It had been a couple of days at this point with no hint of reprieve, but it wasn’t like he minded all that much. He liked it, in fact, as he gave him time alone with his woman to… bond? That seemed like the right word, at least.

Stopping at the entrance, Bakugou listening for a moment, finding that he could hear nothing but the wind outside. But, he could smell her, which told him she was still inside, waiting his return in the back room. Something seemed… different. Her scent was stronger, his heightened senses from his bloodline able to pick up even the slightest changes in his environment.

Being experienced with women told him exactly what it was. It was the scent of arousal, one which he had been able to pick up on from her many times in the last few weeks. The most recent was just a few days ago, when he had taken her hand to help her stand, and he could have sworn he could smell it on her fingers. Is that what her intense gaze had been about? Had she wanted him to leave so she could pleasure herself?

Curious, he quietly walked closer to the entrance of the backroom, having to hold his breath as the scent began to overwhelm him. It was paired with soft gasps and sighs of pleasure, which instantly brought an intense heat to Bakugou’s chest. It flared through his cheeks and burned the tips of his ears, clutching tightly onto the pelts in his grasp as he tried to control the urge to barge in there. Although it was turning him on like nothing he had ever experienced, he couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed. All this time he had tried to court her, to pleasure her in any way possible, and she had shut herself off ever time. Yet here she was, touching herself while he was away.

It was odd, though, that she would choose to do such a thing when he would only be gone a few minutes. Out hunting when he would be gone for hours? Sure, he could see that. But this wasn’t a situation where she should have felt safe enough to get away with it without being caught. Maybe that’s what she wanted? Maybe she wanted to be caught, to be put into such a predicament that would lead them to who knows where. It was probably easier that way, so that she couldn’t use the excuse that she wasn’t interested in such things.

“Mm… K-Katsuki…”

The heat that was in his chest spread through his entire body the instant he heard his first name slip so sensually from her lips. Never before had she called him by first name, that slightly stubborn nature of hers refusing to give in to drop formalities. She was fantasizing about him, the very thought making his blood boil with passion and lust. He wanted her, badly, and as he panting grew louder he knew he had to take this chance before she ended up cumming. Interrupting her before she could finish would be the perfect chance to peak her interest and attraction to him.

Sly smirk crossing his lips, he dropped the pelts down loudly onto the ground, hearing her quickly gasp and struggle to cover herself. He pulled open the curtain just as she got the blanket back into place, though she was still breathing heavily and her cheeks were flushed dark red. “A-ah, Bakugou, you scared me.”

“Did I? Were you sleeping?” Holding the flap open, he pushed the pelts and blankets into the room with his foot, letting it close behind him once fully inside. “I thought I heard you call me.”

Her face only flushed darker, quickly giving a shake of her head. The guilt was plain on her face, and he could see shuffling about under the blanket, as if she were trying to fix her shift back into place. “N-No, I didn’t, you must have been… imagining it.”

“I don’t think so.” Bakugou moved to stand in front of her, squatting down with his elbows resting on his thighs. Clasping his hands together, he observed her face closely, having to use every ounce of his self control to not pounce on her that instant. Her scent was driving him wild, as was that flushed, embarrassed and guilty expression she carried so well. “Do you think I can’t tell?”

“W-what?” She clutched the blanket closer to her chest, revealing her bare feet. Her toes curled in a bit as his crimson glare moved down to them, though she didn’t try to hide them. “I was just--”

“Touching yourself. While moaning my name. I think you’re, uh… Hiding shit from me, hm? And here I thought you didn’t want me.”

“N-no, that’s not--” She quickly cut herself off, biting down onto her lip as if to punish herself for speaking without thinking. “I… I don’t know what I want. I always thought that I was so sure that I didn’t want anything to do with you, but…” Her eyes began to tear up a bit, obviously frustrated with her own emotions. “But you’ve only treated me badly when I acted up… when I deserved it, for acting like a… what did you call me the those first weeks?”

“A twat.”

“So foul… But it’s true. I acted horribly, when you were actually trying to be… decent to me. And these last couple of weeks or so I’ve just… Been driving myself crazy thinking about you. About us.”

“You can just say you’re ready to fuck me, you know. There’s no need to be so prissy and proper.” Unable to resist touching her, he took one of her feet into his hands, a bit surprised at how ice cold it was. She didn’t resist him, not even as he placed a kiss on the delicate skin of her ankle, holding her leg in place with one hand while the other slowly slid up her legs, displacing the blanket until it fell away behind her knee.

“You’re so vulgar.” She moved to sit up a bit, propping herself up with her arms. “How can I be so attracted to such a filthy mouthed person?”

“You tell me, Princess.” Bakugou smirked against her skin, his hand sliding up her inner thigh. “How can such a delicate, well mannered and proper woman of Royalty fall for someone as rough and belligerent as myself.” As her legs closed from obvious nervousness at his wandering hands, he instead shifted his body closer, grabbing the blanket and tossing it off of her scantily clad body.

“I suppose,” she began, struggling to speak properly behind her heavy breathing as her need for him began to truly take over. “It truly doesn’t matter. All I know is that you drive me crazy. You make my heart race and I have butterflies any time you’re near me. Just your touch is enough to melt me.” With a tender touch, she caressed his cheeks, her words rattling about in Bakugou’s head like bees. In truth, it was her that was melting him. He was completely wrapped around her little finger, all she had to do was say the word and he would take her.

“I don’t think you understand how fucking much I want you.” He growled against her lips, finding that she was quite adept at merely teasing the thought of letting him kiss her. “I want you to be mine. To be my wife. If you want me, too, then let me have you.”

“What about tradition? To wait until our wedding night?”

“Fuck tradition.” With that, Bakugou took her lips for his own, kissing her with a feverish passion that she instantly gave in to. After stripping himself of his cloak, he lied her down beneath him, only thinking for a moment that he found it amusing how tightly she was holding onto him. It was as if she were scared he would flee, like he would be the one to suddenly change his mind. What should have been obvious was that, if she didn’t stop him, there wasn’t anything that could. These feelings, this need to have her was like an unending hunger, boiling beneath his skin, and he feared that he would burn alive if he didn’t find release.

The soft gasp she let slip through the kiss pulled his mind back into momentary lucidity, finding that he had begun to eagerly grind his hips against hers. His member was straining painfully against his pants, but he couldn’t quite find it in himself to stop, just the feeling of her sex rubbing against him enough to make his skin tingle. In truth, Bakugou hated it when he got like this, knowing that this wanting for her wasn’t just from regular adoration. He struggled with more animalistic urges that his bloodline cursed him with, and there were times where he wanted to do nothing but fuck for hours on end. It was akin to a male animal during mating season in rut, and he hated to liken himself to a beast.

It wasn’t exactly that time of the year for him, but just her being in his presence made him feel like it was. He didn’t want to seem like some weak, desperate man, and he knew that he would if he kept up this fast and impatient pace.

Setting her lips free, he began to pull her shift up slowly as he observed her flushed and nearly begging expression. “You act so innocent and proper, but now you’re nothing more than a little horny bitch.” Bakugou smirked as her face only flushed darker and her hips arched up more into his, telling him that his words only made her more excited. “How pure are you by now, hm? Has anything ever been in that pretty little cunt of yours?”

She gave a soft shake of her head, unable to resist kissing him again before responding. “No, I’ve never… put anything inside me. Not even my own fingers. Does that make you happy?” She shivered a bit from the chill as her shift was pushed up over her breasts, leaving the rest of her body bare and vulnerable to his pleasures.

“Damn right it does. You’ve always been meant for me.” With a teasing nibble to the delicate skin of her neck, he let one rough hand roam her body until it settled between her legs, stroking the sensitive flesh. As a new gasp left her lips, he couldn’t help but watch her chest heave with the new pleasure, the goosebumps visible across her skin. He did have to admit that the thought of her being completely untouched made him a tad nervous, as hurting her was never an option. Getting her worked up, then, was necessary. “I’ll just have to get you nice and ready for me.”

“H-how would you do that?”

Bakugou gave a small scoff, amused by her innocent, curious gaze. “You tell me, Princess.” His hand left her sex to instead grope her breast, massaging and squeezing as his lips moved down to join it. He used both hands to his full advantage, loving to hear her gasp with each teasing pinch or bite to her erect nipples. Much to his surprise, she seemed to respond with more pleasure when he was rougher, so far as to even moan from his teeth clamping down around them. It only excited him further, that she wasn’t so fragile as to resist his more rough actions.

His kisses and bites continued their way down her body until he was between her legs, taking a moment to sit up and observe her. She was completely open to him, arms resting above her head and gripping onto the fur pelts that she rested on tightly. The embarrassment only crept across her face as his eyes locked back with hers. “W-what are you looking at? It’s so dark in here, can you… really see me that well?”

“You know damn well I can see everything.” Bakugou slid his hand back up her body until he reached her neck, cupping her chin as he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. “And you’re the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Not giving her much time to respond, he settled back down between her legs, hooking his arms under them to grip her hips tightly.

She gave a soft, nervous laugh, her fingers softly tangling into his hair pulling his eyes up for another moment. The gentle smile on her face made his heart flutter violently, though he did everything he could to contain his excitement. “You’re just saying that to butter me up.”

“Tch, I don’t just say shit that I don’t mean.” With that, he ran his tongue along her sex, tightening his grip on her hips to keep her in place as she tried to shift away from the pleasure at first. Focusing on her clit, he reveled in the noises she made and her fingers in his hair, which eventually began to pull as if she were trying to get more out of him. So, he gave it to her, increasing the pleasure until she was a writhing mess in his grip.

She tasted and sounded so sweet that he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to bring her to an orgasm, to hear if her voice squeaked and feel how she would tremble. But, he couldn’t give that to her now, if he wanted any hope of success later on. That, and he needed to try something new, which he knew she may just react badly to. Sitting up from her, he took a second to kiss her, continuing the pleasure by stroking her with his hand.

“Are you ready?” He kept eye contact with her as he pressed the tip of his finger against her opening, but her reaction was something he hadn’t quite expected. Snatching onto his wrist, she shook her head, struggling to speak against panting breaths.

“No, please, I don’t want that. I want it… to be you, not your fingers.”

Bakugou removed his fingers as she requested, instead working to remove his belt and undo his pants. “Are you sure about that? It’ll hurt like a bitch at first. Using my fingers first would help you get used to it.”

“No, I want it to be… real.” The soft hitch in her voice caught Bakugou’s full attention, noticing that her eyes had begun to tear up and her brow was furrowed with worry. “I don’t care if it hurts at first… I know you wouldn’t do anything to… hurt me otherwise.”

His pants effectively moved out of the way, Bakugou moved back to hover over her, allowing his hard member to rest against her sex. Her heat was making it nearly impossible for him to not want to sink himself in immediately, but he held back, moving some of her hair out of her face with a tender touch. “I wouldn’t. Just tell me if you want me to stop.” Carefully, he took her legs by behind the knee, spreading her open a bit more.

“W-wait…” She placed her hands against his torso, softly tracing the lines of his muscles and running her nails along his skin. Her touch drove him absolutely mad, the animal inside him screaming to just get on with it. The man, however, soaked in the gentle touches, wishing to feel her hands all over his body. Being with her like this was an absolute dream, and he’d be damned if he’d let his crazed urges ruin a single moment.

A short, soft hiss escaped through his teeth as she caressed his cock, exploring it as she had his torso. In an attempt to hide how good her palm felt stroking against his tip, he gave a chuckle, watching her as she nibbled at her lip. “You’ve never touched, let alone see a cock before, have you?”

She gave a small shake of her head, looking back up at his face. “No. But it seems… Nice.” She took her hands back to herself as he bent her legs further back, beginning to stroke his cock along the length of her nearly dripping wet sex. Once again clutching onto the pelts above her head, she sighed out softly in pleasure. “And it’s… so warm. Everything about you is like a raging fire. It’s so nice…”

Leaning forward, Bakugou placed a soft kiss on her lips, shifting his hips to press his tip into her entrance. Knowing it would be difficult at first, he used one hand to guide himself, pausing for just a moment to get her final approval.

“Just breathe, [Name].”

After a small nod from her, Bakugou began to slowly press himself into her, a sigh of pleasure leaving his lips as a hiss of pain left hers. Now clutching onto his shoulders, she couldn’t help but to tense up, making Bakugou pause. “Hey, hey, I said breathe. It’s alright.” Once he was in past the tip, he began with very slow and shallow thrusts, keeping her attention with soft words, kisses, and the ability to claw at his skin as she wished. It was so difficult for him to focus on keeping her calm when being inside her felt so heavenly. She was so tight around his cock that he knew he would cum in no time if he weren’t careful, spurred on by a mixture of wanting, lack of any sexual attention, adoration and just pure pleasure.

Within no time, he was fully buried within her, pausing for a moment when his hips finally rejoined with hers. She was trembling fiercely, entire body coated in sweat and clutching onto him so tightly he was sure she could draw blood, if she hadn’t already. “How are you feeling, Princess?”

“I-It hurts… But I’m okay.” She moved her hands to caress his cheeks, kissing him softly. “You can move.” With the first shallow thrust of his hips, she moved her arms around his neck, taking him without any protest. He couldn’t take his eyes off her face, watching as her expression slowly shifted from wincing pain to confused arousal. As her expression changed, he gave her more, increasing his speed and depths of his thrusts. The first real moan of pleasure that slipped through her lips was nearly enough to cripple his restraint, releasing her legs so he could prop himself up on his arms for better leverage.

Watching her body bounce with each thrust was mesmerizing, her alluring voice and nails in his skin driving him mad. “Damn it, you’re so fucking perfect. I can’t hardly hold myself back.”

“What is it you want?” She struggled to speak through her moans and gasps of pleasure, her hips beginning to arch up into his. “You wanted to mess me up, didn’t you?”

“I could hurt you doing that shit on your first time.”

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. Please, Katsuki, I want it!”

His name barely slipped through her lips before he let his restraint crumble, beginning to thrust in a harder, rougher pace. If she begged for it, then he would give it to her, as pleasuring her was all he wanted. She took to the new pleasure without skipping a beat, her head leaning back as she moaned without restraint.

“Look at you, Miss Purity, begging to be fucked harder like the little cock drunk bitch you are.” Bakugou wrapped his hand around her neck, giving just enough pressure to make her voice squeak. Still, her body language gave away that she loved it, opening herself up more to him. “Is that what you want? For me to make a mess of you and leave you fucking ruined?”

“Y-yes!” She squeaked, having to pause for a long moment as Bakugou only dug himself into her deeper. “I-I want to be yours, Katsuki! Do whatever you want to me!” Within a moment, he had her flipped over, gripping her hips tightly as he ravaged her from behind. Her ass bouncing with his thrusts was even more enticing than her chest, giving her more just so that he could see it move. She took well to this new position, though she had to collapse her upper body down onto the pelts after removing her shift completely.

Although Bakugou never wanted to stop, he could feel himself getting close, but he had yet to make her finish. With a tug to her arms, he pulled her up so that her back was against his torso, one hand latched around her neck while the other held her hips in place. Lips at her ear, he watched as her eyes rolled up, her entire body a willing subject to his wrath.

“You know what release feels like, right?”

“Y-yes!” “Tell me what you imagined to make yourself cum.”

“I-I imagined you touching me… Your fingers r-rubbing me, not mine-” A gasp escaped her as Bakugou moved his fingers to her clit, rubbing in rhythm to his thrusts.

“Keep going.” He growled in her ear, beginning to feel her body tense with the building pleasure.

“Your breath down my neck… Your lips on my skin… T-the thought of you cumming inside me! The thought of being yours forever!”

“Then cum for me, [Name]. Cum on my cock and become mine.” Thrusting into her harder, Bakugou fucked her until she was pushed over the edge. He held her tightly against him as she came hard, her body twitching and hips rocking back against him. She moaned and sighed out with trembling breath, squeezing his cock so tightly that he couldn’t hold it anymore. With a few more erratic thrusts of his hips, he released inside her, burying his face into her shoulder. The feeling of them pulsing against each other brought a fluttering realization to his chest, which was only made more severe as she reached up to gentle stroke his cheek.

“Mmm… Katsuki… I’m sorry I waited so long. I guess I am just a stubborn little princess.”

“No,” Bakugou turned her head with a soft push of his fingers, kissing her with gentle passion. “You’re not that anymore. Now you’re my stubborn Queen, [Name]. And I would have waited an eternity for you.”

#cutesuki-lemons #bnha imagines #bnha scenarios #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #request #bnha fanfiction #fanfiction #bnha writing blog #xreader #fantasy au #dragon bakugo

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raleighliving · 4 years ago

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Snowmageddon: A Defense

If you’ve lived in the south during the winter months at any point you’ve probably heard all the jokes and jabs already about how well we tend to handle snow. At the first flake falling, you’ll hear cries of “Shut down the schools” and “Buy bread and milk NOW!” from everyone; northern transplants especially.

Southerners panic at even the hint of snow, clearing store shelves to hoard a years’ worth of groceries and filling jerry cans with enough fuel to cross the Atlantic because the news predicted a half inch dusting overnight. It’s not as prolific or hurtful as other stereotypes but if you’ve grown up hearing it you’re probably tired of the same five jokes like I am.

Not to say it’s completely unwarranted. I’m sure you’ve gone to the grocery store during a particularly cold night and seen gaps in the inventory of various necessities, and fellow North Carolinians forming lines at the gas station to top off before the snow hits.

Even if you’re not from North Carolina, you’ve probably seen the below image of our very own Glenwood avenue from a few years back. Meme’d to hell and back with various edits including references to Star Wars, Ghostbusters, and various post-apocalyptic scenarios.

Glenwood Ave, credit WRAL

So of course, a question I’ve been asked rhetorically from friends across the country is “why?” With a recent snow day passed and another possibly on the horizon, I figured now would be as good a time as any to write about what Raleigh’s deal with snow is and why so many of us dread the icy doom it brings.

Not to say this article excuses the Glenwood Incident or any over obsessive individuals you may run into throughout Raleigh; but instead, I hope to at least provide an explanation for why things are like this. Provide insight for school closures and concerns so that my fellow Raleigh citizenry might seem at least a little less crazy the next time the sky goes gray on a cold Winter’s day.

To understand the issues with Raleigh and snow we need to understand two important aspects of the problem: city maintenance and city planning. While there are many small issues that pervade North Carolina, and especially the city of Raleigh, these two form the crux of our problem.

As you can imagine, any city’s road conditions are linked at least partially to their Department of Transportation’s (DOT) budget. Repairs, litter control, and much more are all accounted for in the state DOT budget; and while North Carolina might not be as small as her neighbors like Georgia she still has to budget accordingly.

How much money is spent on inclement weather for a state that might see snow once every two years is weighed against contracts for road repairs, the much more frequent summer/fall tropical storms, and other projects that need it more.

Of the $5.3 billion 2020 budget, it’s estimated by the NCDOT that we spent 32% of that on road maintenance (and a fraction of that goes towards inclement weather solutions). So a fraction of a fraction of the budget goes towards preparing the roads with brine and equipping plows with a salt/sand traction mix.

Of course, this means we only have so many snow plows and so much brine to spread around the roads. If you get any pre-snow road treatment, you’re likely in more urban areas like Raleigh or you’re by a military base like Fayetteville. Even in those areas, however, pre-snow road treatment and subsequent plowing are usually only afforded to major roads and high traffic areas.

Live in a subdivision or a back road? Then may fortune be ever in your favor, because there’s a good chance that the most you’ll get is somebody laying out InstaMelt from the HOA (if you even get that much). There’s a chance you could drive on Leesville or Glenwood if you can get to them, but that’s IF you can get to them.

The neighborhood where I grew up you couldn’t get out if there was too much snow/ice because all three exits sat atop fairly steep grade hills. Don’t have a heavy enough vehicle or specialized tires? You’re probably going to slide back down or get stuck in a snow drift.

Of course, that’s just my old stomping grounds. But Raleigh is full of various neighborhoods; ranging from cookie cutter suburbs to nightmare hellscapes crafted with form over function kept firmly in mind. For every Longlake or Dominion Park, there’s a road like Sendero Road.

Sendero is a back road attached to a back road with narrow, one-way roads twisting around steep gorges filled with trees and water at various points. The upper-middle class neighborhood is cut in half by a river with an old wooden bridge, and the only reliable turn around point is at the very end of this anxiety coaster.

For schools you have the school buses, which break down super frequently already, with no seat belts transporting kids across the city to school and parents trying to get out of their neighborhoods and dealing with other drivers.

If something gets damaged or someone gets hurt or stranded, all because you had the option to close down but didn’t, then that’s consequences and problems laid at the foot of the school board and superintendent. Parent complaints, insurance rates, and potential lawsuits versus a few days of missed education and a few jokes on twitter; it’s easy to see which bet anyone would take when the sky starts spewing ice crystals.

It’s true, not every neighborhood in Raleigh (and many other southern cities) is a poorly designed nest of streets placed at random using dice; but enough exist throughout that it’s an important consideration for many schools, businesses, and families when they’re preparing for possible winter storms.

Do we shut down schools, or hope the weatherman is right and that the light dusting clears by midday? Do we go and stock up on supplies in case the freezer goes out, or hope that the 2005 ice storm just doesn’t happen ever again? It’s these questions, and previous experiences like the 2005 ice storm that fuel a lot of the paranoia that happens surrounding snow storms.

I don’t expect to change any minds writing this, but hopefully you’ll at least come away with a better understanding of southern snowphobia when you see schools start closing left and right at the first flake, or when you see someone load their cart up with bread and milk.

PS: Apparently, it’s always bread and milk because bread provides energy, nutrition, and doesn’t need to be refrigerated; and milk because you can keep it fresh with snow/outdoor coolers if your fridge dies.

#NC #North Carolina #northcarolina #Raleigh #NCSU #NC State University #Glenwood #Glenwood Ave #Snow #snowday #city planning #Ice #icestorm #icestorm2005 #gifs

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taytootwisted · 4 years ago

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— 1. Who was the last person you held hands with? Jamel

2. Are you outgoing or shy? Outgoing

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? :)

4. Are you easy to get along with? Ehh for the most part

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? Fuck yeah

6. What kind of people are you attracted to? I like quiet men lol

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Wow I don’t think so

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? :)

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Not really

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Tee

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? Goodmorning

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

Callin my phone, trackstar, off the yak, no more parties, goat

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Yes, makes me sleepy

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? Sometimes

15. What good thing happened this summer? We’re in a pandemic idrk

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Sure

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? Yes!

18. Do you still talk to your first crush? No lol

19. Do you like bubble baths?ehhh haven’t had one in years

20. Do you like your neighbors? I’ve only seen him once in a year maybe twice 😂

21. What are you bad habits? Smoking & procrastinating

22. Where would you like to travel? The tropics

23. Do you have trust issues? Yeah pretty severe

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? The blunt I face after work

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? Ehhh just wish I wasn’t as tiny

26. What do you do when you wake up? Wake up?¿

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Darker

28. Who are you most comfortable around?my family & friends

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? Yep

30. Do you ever want to get married? Nope

31. If your hair long enough for a pony tail? Yes need a cut

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? Hmmmm lol

33. Spell your name with your chin. It just clicks buttons

34. Do you play sports? What sports? I use to! Soccer, basketball, track & volleyball

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? TV

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Duh

37. What do you say during awkward silences? Nothing they don’t really bother me

38. Describe your dream girl/guy? Tall dark handsome rich & kind & quiet & loves me more than life

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? I haven’t went shopping in so long I’m really crusty lol

40. What do you want to do after high school?HAHAHA

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? Not everyone, but yes

42. If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? I’m in my thoughts

43. Do you smile at strangers? Sometimes

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Let’s go to space babe

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? Survival

46. What are you paranoid about? Nothing currently

47. Have you ever been high? Yep

48. Have you ever been drunk? Yep

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Nope

50. What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? Grey

51. Ever wished you were someone else? Timmy Turner

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? A fatter ass but we working on it

53. Favourite makeup brand? Elf

54. Favourite store?

55. Favourite blog? Tumblr duh

56. Favourite colour? Yellow

57. Favourite food? Spanish

58. Last thing you ate? Noodles

59. First thing you ate this morning? Nada but I want chic

60. Ever won a competition? For what? One time I won selling the most cookie dough for school in like 6th grade 🤣

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? About 30 times, a bit defiant

62. Been arrested? For what? Shoplifting & weed charges

63. Ever been in love? Very much so

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? I think I was like in 7th grade I met up w the boy I had a crush on to hang at the park he was on a scooter. We did a lil peck kiss lol

65. Are you hungry right now? Yes!! I want chic

66. Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? Don’t have any tumblr friends :/

67. Facebook or Twitter? Twitter

68. Twitter or Tumblr? Both

69. Are you watching tv right now? Nope

70. Names of your bestfriends? Tee, Bri, Ale, Mel, Kev,

71. Craving something? What?omg ur gonna keep asking huh CHIC

72. What colour are your towels? Pink, cream, flower print, brown

72. How many pillows do you sleep with? Three

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? Yes

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? 1 right now

75. Favourite animal? Cheetah

76. What colour is your underwear? Black

77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla

78. Favourite ice cream flavour? Chocolate chip cookie dough

79. What colour shirt are you wearing? Blue

80. What colour pants? No pants

81. Favourite tv show? Wentworth currently

82. Favourite movie? Too hard

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Original duh

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? 21 jump street lol

85. Favourite character from Mean Girls?

86. Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Dory

87. First person you talked to today? Nobody yet

88. Last person you talked to today? Today just started

89. Name a person you hate? Nobody

90. Name a person you love? My mom

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? Nope I’m good

92. In a fight with someone? Nope :)

93. How many sweatpants do you have? Probably like 10

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? Probably like 10 lol

95. Last movie you watched? Something in Netflix I forget

96. Favourite actress? Nope

97. Favourite actor? Nope

98. Do you tan a lot? No I’m pasty as shit

99. Have any pets? Nope lonely lol

100. How are you feeling? I’m feeling good I think today is gonna be a good day

101. Do you type fast? Yea

102. Do you regret anything from your past? There’s one thing I wish I could go back & change

103. Can you spell well? I believe so

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? Yes

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes

106. Ever broken someone’s heart? Yes

107. Have you ever been on a horse? No :/

108. What should you be doing? Nothing it’s 630 am

109. Is something irritating you right now? Nope

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? Yes :/

111. Do you have trust issues? HUGE

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Uh...... the girls at the viewing

113. What was your childhood nickname? Birdy

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? Yes

115. Do you play the Wii? I have

116. Are you listening to music right now? Nope

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? Yes

118. Do you like Chinese food? Yes!

119. Favourite book? Not sure

120. Are you afraid of the dark? No

121. Are you mean? Sometimes

122. Is cheating ever okay? No but it happens

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? Yes

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? No

125. Do you believe in true love? Yes

126. Are you currently bored? No this is entertainment

127. What makes you happy? Food, love, money

128. Would you change your name? No

129. What your zodiac sign? Cancer

130. Do you like subway? Eh

131. Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? Omg this already happened I fucking snapped :/ we’re ok now tho

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? Tee

133. Favourite lyrics right now? She’s a runner she’s a trackstar

134. Can you count to one million? I guess so

135. Dumbest lie you ever told? I don’t really lie too much

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed

137. How tall are you? 5”3’

138. Curly or Straight hair? Both

139. Brunette or Blonde? Blonde

140. Summer or Winter? Summer

141. Night or Day? Both

142. Favourite month? June

143. Are you a vegetarian? No

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Once in awhile all three

145. Tea or Coffee? Yea

146. Was today a good day? Just started

147. Mars or Snickers? Neither

148. What’s your favourite quote? Get me lit ima slut fr

149. Do you believe in ghosts? Sure

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? “I’m happy to do it either way.”

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iandeleonwrites · 4 years ago

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Ian’s Case: A Personal Statement for Grad School Admission

Personal Statement, Ian Deleón

“He felt something strike his chest, and that his body was being thrown swiftly through the air, on and on, immeasurably far and fast, while his limbs were gently relaxed.”

It was more than a decade ago when I first read those words. Written by the American author Willa Cather, Paul’s Case: A Study in Temperament has always felt to me like an intimate account of my own life penned by a woman one hundred years in the past.

That is a feeling which makes me proud; that my personal whims, fears, and desires, could find their echo long ago in a story about a young man and his pursuit of a meaningful life. Because of it, I felt a pleasing sense of historicity at a time when I was struggling so much with my own.

I grew up in Miami Beach. Literally not more than a block away from water for most of my life. My father had emigrated from Cuba with his family in 1980. My mother had come on a work visa from Brazil a few years later. They met on the beach, had an affair, and I came into the world in May of 1987.

My life was marked with in betweenness from the very beginning. My parents’ relationship did not last long, so I grew up traveling between houses. I had two families. I was American, but I was also Cuban and Brazilian. I even have a Brazilian passport. I spoke three languages fluently, but I couldn’t dance salsa or samba. I felt at home with the working class immigrants and people of color in my neighborhoods, but I often had to work hard to prove I wasn’t just some gringo with a knack for foreign tongues.

[A quick note on Paul’s Case––If it happens that the reader is not familiar with the short story, let me briefly summarize it here: A disenchanted youth in turn of the century Pittsburgh feels increasingly alienated from his schoolmates, his teachers and his family. His only comfort is his position as an usher at Carnegie Hall, where he loses himself in the glamour of the art life. Having no drive or desire to become an artist, however, the dandy Paul makes a spur of the moment criminal decision and elopes to New York City. There, he is able to live out his fantasies in a financial masquerade for about a week’s time, until the authorities back home finger him for monetary theft. Learning that his father is en route to the city to collect him, Paul travels to the countryside and flings himself in front of a speeding train, musing about the elegant brevity of winter flowers.]

When I first encountered Cather’s short story I was blown away by the parallels I saw between my own life and Paul’s. In 2005, fresh out of high school, I was living mostly with my father as my mother had relocated to faraway West Palm Beach. I was an usher at the local concert hall, a job I cherished enough to volunteer my time for free. I became entranced by the world of classical music, opera, theater, and spectacle––often showing up for work early and roaming the performance spaces, probing high and low like some kind of millenial phantom.

In school, however, I had no direction, no plan. I had good enough grades, but no real motivation, and worst of all, I thought, no discernible talent. I probably resented my father for not being cultured enough to teach me about music, theater, and the arts. No one in my family had ever even been to a museum, or sat before a chamber orchestra. And it didn’t seem to matter to them either, they could somehow live blissfully without it.

Well I couldn’t. I began to mimic the fervor with which Paul immersed himself in that world, while also exhibiting the same panic at the thought of not being able to sustain my treasured experiences without a marketable contribution to them. But here is where Paul and I take divergent paths.

I was attending the Miami Dade Honors College, breezing my way towards an associate’s degree. I took classes in Oceanography, Sociology, Creative Writing, Acting and African Drumming. I was experimenting and falling in love with everything.

But it was my Creative Writing professor, Michael Hettich, who really encouraged the development of my nascent writing talent. Up until that point my ideas only found their expression through class assignments, particularly book reports and essays on historical events. My sister had always felt I had a way with words, but I just attributed this to growing up in a multicultural environment amongst a diversity of native languages.

As a result of that encouragement I began to write poetry, little songs and treatments for film ideas based on the short stories we were talking about in class. Somehow, thanks to those lines of poetry and a few amateur photographic self portraits, I was admitted to the Massachusetts College of Art & Design for my BFA program.

There, I attended classes in Printmaking, Paper Making, Performance Art, Video Editing, and Glass Blowing. I was immersed in culture, attending lectures and workshops, adding new words to my vocabulary: “New Media” and “gestalt”. I saw my first snowfall. I had the dubious honor of appearing at once not Hispanic and yet different enough. I was overwhelmed. I felt increasingly disenchanted and out of place in New England, yet my work flourished and grew stronger.

It was during this time that I developed a passion for live performance and engagement with an audience. I also worked with multi-channel video and sculptural installations. Always, I commented on my family history, grappling with it, the emigrations and immigrations. I even returned to those early short stories from Miami Dade, one time doing an interpretive movement piece based on The Yellow Wallpaper. Most often I talked about my father. He was even in a few of my projects. He was a good sport, though we still had the occasional heated political disagreement. We never held any grudges, and made up again rather quickly. It would always be that way, intense periods of warming and cooling. A tropical temperament, I suppose.

I continued to take film-related classes in Boston, but my interests gradually became highly abstracted, subtle, and decidedly avant-garde. I had no desire to work in a coherently narrative medium. This would eventually change, but for now, I let my ambitions and aspirations take me where they would.

I returned home to Miami for a spell after graduation. I traveled the world for five months after that. I moved back to Boston for another couple of years, because it was comfortable I suppose, though I was fed up with the weather.

Finally, I wound up in NYC. Classic story: I followed a charming young woman, another performance artist as luck would have it, a writer too, and a bit of an outsider. We were quickly engaged and on the first anniversary of our meet cute we were married on a gorgeous piece of land in upstate new york, owned by an older performance-loving couple from the city. Piece of land doesn’t quite do it justice, we’re talking massive tracts, hidden acres of forest, sudden lakes, fertile fields, and precocious wildlife. As they say in the movies, it really is all about location, location, location.

Nearly all of our significant personal and professional achievements in the subsequent years have centered around this bucolic homestead. After meeting, courting, researching and eventually getting married there, we soon decided we would stage our most ambitious project to date in this magical space––we would shoot...a movie.

We hit upon the curious story of an eighteenth century woman in England called Mary Toft. Dear Mary became famous for a months-long ruse that involved her supposed birthing of rabbits, and sometimes cats. The small town hoax ballooned into a national controversy when it was eventually exposed by some of the king’s physicians. My wife and I were completely enthralled by this story and its contemporary implications. Was Mary wholly complicit in the mischievous acts, or was she herself a sort of duped victim...of systematic abuse at the hands of her family, her husband, her country?

We soon found a way to adapt and give this tale a modern twist that recast Mary as a woman of color alone in the woods navigating a host of creepy men, a miscarriage, and a supernatural rabbit.

Over the course of nine months, our idea gestated and began taking the form of a short film screenplay. This was something neither of us had done or been adequately trained to do before. But we knew we wanted it to be special, it was our passion project. We knew we didn’t want it to look amateurish––we were too old for that. So we took out a loan, hired an amazing camera crew, and in three consecutive days in the summer of 2017 we filmed our story, Velvet Cry. It was the most difficult thing either of us had undertaken...including planning our nuptial ceremony around our difficult families.

It was an incredible experience––intoxicating––also quite maddening and stressful. But it was all worth it. Because of our work schedules, it took us another year to finish post production on the film, but throughout that process, I knew I had found my calling. I would be a writer, and I would be a Director.

Perhaps I had been too afraid to dream the big dream before. Perhaps I had lacked the confidence, or simply, the life experience to tackle the complexity of human emotions, narratives, and interactions––but no longer. This is what I wanted to do and I had to find a way to get better at doing it.

In the intervening months, I have set myself on a course to develop my writing abilities as quickly as I could in anticipation of this application process. I know I have some latent talent, but it has been a long time since I’ve been in an academic setting, and in any case, I have never really attempted to craft drama on this scale before.

I’ve read many books, listened to countless interviews, attended online classes, and most importantly, written my heart out since relocating down the coast to the small college town of Gainesville in Central Florida with my wife in June of 2018. It was through a trip to her alma mater of Hollins University that we learned about the co-ed graduate program in screenwriting a few months ago. After all the debt I accrued in New England, I didn’t think I would ever go back to college, though I greatly enjoyed the experience. But what we learned about the program filled me with confidence and a desire to share in the wonderful legacy of this school that my wife is always gushing about.

Our Skype conversation with Tim Albaugh proved to be the deciding factor. I knew instantly that I wanted to be a part of anything that he was involved with, and I had the feeling that my ideas would truly be nurtured and harnessed into a craft––something tangible I could be proud of and use to propel my career.

I continue to mine my childhood and adolescence in Miami for critical stories and characters, situations that shed light on my own personal experience of life. I’ve found myself coming back to Paul’s Case. No longer caught up in the character’s stagnant, brooding longings for a grander life, I’m now able to revisit the story, appreciating the young man’s anxieties while evaluating how it all went so fatally wrong for Paul. There was no reason to despair, no cause for lost hope. I would take the necessary steps to become the artist I already know myself to be. The screenplay I am submitting as my writing sample is a new adaptation of this story, making Paul my own, and giving him a little bit of that South Florida flavor.

I will close by reiterating how I have visited Hollins, and heard many a positive review from the powerful women I know who have attended college there. As a graduate student, I know Hollins can help me to become a screenwriter, to become a filmmaker. This is the only graduate program to which I am applying––I have a very good feeling about all this.

I want to be a Hollins girl.

#college essay #paul's case #queer writing #hollins university

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padfootagain · 5 years ago

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A Crimson Christmas (I)

Chapter 1: Saint-Malo

Here I am with a brand new series for my winter event 2019! I am answering the fake dating trope for Steve Rogers :)

Get ready to dive in some mystery for the holidays ;) It's not gonna be just fluff… although there will be some fluff, no worries!

Oh, and… canon? I don't know her.

I'm also very excited with this one, because I've decided to set the story in France, in one of my favourite places, that is not so far from my hometown. So I'm having extra fun with it :)

I hope you all like it!

Gif not mine

Word Count : 4086

There is a mystery in this story.

Or, actually, there are three mysteries tied up together in the events that will unfold here.

The first, and probably the most cryptic of all, concerns the circumstances of the death of a gentleman named Jean Le Kennec.

The second, and probably the most devastating of all, has to deal with the delivery of a package on Christmas Eve.

The third, and probably the most important of all, is to link with a man and a woman spending Christmas together because of a lie.

In order to describe the story as well as it deserves to be told, one should get a pretty accurate image of the city where the events will unfold, for the place itself is like a character in this tale. To do that, one should picture France first. Get as far west as you can on this tiny hexagon, then make your way North to the beautiful region of Brittany.

Landscapes as beautiful and wild as the ocean the land dives into, this part of France is one of the most interesting places you can go to in this country. Because of the magic of the landscapes, yes, but also because of the mystical atmosphere that hovers over the land. Houses of stones batted by the raging salty wind and heavy rains, boats of wood cracking through angry storms, and a past filled with druids, fairies and magic. The Celtic culture goes on there through the peculiar tongue still used by some, typical of this region, but also through the legends of disappeared ships, pirates and lost treasures, and Merlin and fairies in the Broceliande forest, of a king and a sword in a stone wandering there, and menhirs rising through fields to praise estranged gods.

In a word, this place is perfect for the kind of mystery this story will describe.

Concerning the inhabitants of this region, one would give a fairly accurate description of their character with ‘pig-headed but loyal’. Stubbornness is a common trait, and most might describe the people of Brittany as reluctant to change and foreigners, which might make them seem a little cold. But once you’ve earned their trust, there are no more loyal and generous people than them… in France at least.

Two more things need to be known about this local eccentric people, and they have to do with food. A 'galette' is a salty preparation, specialty of this part of France. It is basically like a salty version of a pancake made with a different kind of flour and filled, most of the time, with ham, cheese and an egg. They are not to be mistaken with 'crêpes', the dessert of the traditional meal. It is often filled with butter, or sugar, or chocolate, or salty caramel. Both have this similar form of a large and thin pancake, but the crêpes are sweet, and the two courses are made with very different recipes and flours. And Brittany people are a tiny bit touchy about the difference. Someone mistaking the two would have without a doubt once been thrown into a dungeon. Today, it is met with a tired sigh, and an explanation of the difference presented with a tone that truly means to tell 'if you make that mistake again, I will kidnap you in the middle of the night and throw you into the ocean during the next storm’.

The second element of food you need to know if you want to survive amongst this people is salty butter. Do not attempt to use sweet butter. The inhabitants will judge you and will think that, here again, the place where you belong is located closer to the bottom of the ocean than amongst them if you try. It is properly an insult to their entire culture.

Now that the people of Brittany have been introduced, let’s focus closer to where our story will take place. In Brittany, go all the way North until you hit the ocean, and a tiny bit to the East. You will find a tiny dot on the map there that indicates Saint-Malo.

The town stretches nowadays from the sea to further in the land, all the way along the beaches of brown sand. But this story takes place in the oldest part of town, around the castle.

Built on the edge of the sea, the castle is now the home of the city hall. All around it and a number of buildings, tall walls were erected to fight both the wild storms that strike the shores in winter, and enemy invaders.

Most of this part of town was rebuilt after the second world war, most of its buildings being destroyed by bombings and a large fire that tore to the ground up to 80% of the medieval houses that once stood there. The economic development of the town throughout the XVII and XVIIIth century, through the activities of the harbour, also led to some radical changes in the architecture of the town during that time. This was when the tall walls surrounded the city were built. The reconstruction of the destroyed town went on after the second world war to match in spirit the buildings that remained and yet expand the size of the streets to match the new needs that arose at this period. Which led to identical buildings filling up all the space, at the exception of the churches, the cathedral, the castle and the courthouse, along with the few houses that were still standing. All buildings have this rectangular, almost military stern look, but the use of this peculiar kind of stone to build them entirely, brownish-greyish shade of granite, gives the assemble charms that many tourists now adore.

If one of these tourists climbs up the steep and quite slippery staircases leading up to the walls, they will be able to notice, through the holes that once were meant for canons, that danger is never far in these parts. The large black rocks that crawl out of the foam and the waves are deadly for reckless vessels. The ocean is often violent, and large wooden trunks were planted all along the seaside in order to break the wrath of the waves before they would hit the carved stones of the wall. Many lighthouses colour the horizon in an attempt to clear a path for the sailors, and strongholds were built on large rocks and tiny islands off the shores of Saint-Malo to defend what was once a citadel and one of the busiest harbours in France. Most of these fortifications are unreachable at high tide, even today, and if someone was to find themselves stuck by the tide, they would find no way to reach the town again.

But through these rough elements, the beauty of the town is found as well.

Let’s focus further on, and we can begin our story by studying the tall blond man sitting up there, in a corner of a crêperie set against the inner wall of the old town, his galette gone and his empty plate waiting for a waiter to come and carry it away. The restaurant was decorated with taste, walls white and dark blue, meeting the shades of the ocean. The tiny tables were packed together to allow as many customers in as possible, and this American, who was distractingly looking out the window, seemed too big for the furniture. He had let his beanie and warm scarf on the table next to his plate, his warm coat set on his chair. It was raining outside, which was to be expected for this region, and even more so two days before Christmas. After all, the season of storms had begun.

He almost jumped when you came back from the ladies’ room to sit across him again.

"It won’t get any better before Christmas, you’d better get used to the weather," you told Steve with an amused smile, following his gaze to the street outside, where the rain was pouring, the wind so strong that the droplets fell at a weird angle.

"How did you convince me to spend Christmas here again?" Steve asked with a chuckle.

"I begged you. That’s how. And I promised that I’d owe you one.

"Hmm, yes, I remember now."

"At least, this isn't a real storm! We can still go wherever we please."

"I don't want to know more about these storms just yet."

"I didn't picture you as a man who would like to spend Christmas on a beach with sun and cocktails. I pictured you more… well, like you are now! Wearing a warm beige sweater and enjoying the cold of December."

"I can't believe I've refused that invitation from Sam and Bucky to go to Hawaii…" Steve shook his head and heaved a tired sigh, which only made you laugh.

"You're retired now! You have all the time you want to go drink cocktails under the sun!" you replied with a playful tone. "Besides, you would go crazy there. Doing nothing… that's not exactly you, is it?"

"Hiking there would have been great," he fought back, but he knew you were quite right, he fitted better in this cold weather than on a tropical beach. But he just loved bickering with you.

"But instead you helped a friend in need," you grinned.

"I still can't believe I'm doing this either," he shook his head again.

"Alright, so… let's say it all one more time. We've been together for a year, our first date was…" you left your lie for him to finish, checking if he had memorized everything.

"In New York, in Central Park, we went ice-skating," he answered with a tired voice that didn't match the amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Right! And now…"

"We're thinking about moving in together in New York, but we still need to discuss it."

"Have we thought of a part of town where we'd settle yet?"

"Not really, nothing is decided, it's a mere project for now."

"My mom will probably give you tons and tons of ideas for decorating an apartment, or places where we could live. Just… go along with it, okay?"

"Okay."

"They'll ask about the working together thingy, and both of us risking our lives as Avengers."

"Our relationship was never a problem in our work, as we can separate the two, and we are now both retired, so all is fine."

"I think you're ready, Mr. Rogers! Welcome to the Y/L/N family!"

"I wish I could say that it's a pleasure, but this whole business is utterly ridiculous."

"It's not! I won't survive another Christmas holiday with my parents trying to find me a boyfriend at all cost. Thank you for doing this, you're literally saving my life."

"I'm sure it's not as bad as you make it sound."

"Oh, no. It's worse!"

Steve let out a chuckle, the sound making you smile. After all, Steve's persona often oozed a saddened, melancholic aura. Most of his smiles and laughter didn't reach his eyes. These moments when you managed to bring real joy or amusement to his features were worth treasuring, and you always did so.

"And… I might have forgotten to warn you about something, but… hmm…" you slowly stuttered, suddenly choosing your words carefully and dropping your light tone for a more worried one. "My family might still hold a tiny little grudge against you… because of the whole… running-away-from-the-law-and-being-a-fugitive incident."

Steve's reaction was merely to place his face into his palm and heave a deep sigh.

"Sorry…" you whispered tentatively. "But it was a long time ago, I'm sure you'll do fine!"

"I hate you," was all he answered, his voice shushed by his hand.

"Of course, you don't. I'm your fellow retired super-hero! We should form a club for it or something… Call Tony, I'm sure he'd join!"

"You're babbling, and it won't make me forget the mess you've dragged me into."

"We've been through worse." You gave him a genuine smile, and the sight acted like a ray of warm sun touching cool skin. He could never be truly angry against you, detail that he found terribly annoying about you. His muscles instantly relaxed, and your smile carried the same message he always read on your lips then.

Everything would be alright.

You and Steve had been friends ever since that first mission against Loki with the Avengers. Of these new heroes, you and Steve had grown to be inseparable. Sharing ideals and your two moral compasses pointing in the same direction, your differences in personality were the greatest strength of the team the two of you made. You had helped him getting used to a new millennium, and he had been a strong support as you lived away from your family for years. You often thought that you had met each other at the best time, right when you both needed a friend the most. Maybe that was why the two of you had grown so close. Throughout this entire Avengers adventure, you had never let the other down, and none of you intended to act any different now that the two of you had helped defeating Thanos and owned a well-deserved retirement from the Avengers.

The future was a little blurry now. What to do with your life after spending years fighting?

You had decided to push the issue away for the holidays. For now, your family gave you enough of a headache without adding the big questions about your future.

"But I have to admit, that we have been through worse," Steve nodded.

"Like Singapore."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"I can't believe you're still bringing this up…"

"I broke my leg to save you! Because you were too dumb to guess that jumping off a building was not a good idea."

"I would have been just fine."

"You would have crushed your skull on the pavement. Do you have any idea of the amount of paperwork the whole team would have had to fill up if Captain America was turned into jelly like that? The answer is: an awful lot. I had to save you."

A tender smile grew over Steve's features. He had learnt to recognize that teasing tone of yours. He had grown into finding it rather cute. Sometimes, you hid your strongest concerns behind jokes. He accepted the boundaries around your heart, he had built tall walls around his too, after all.

"I'm pretty sure the paperwork will be worse if your parents are responsible for my murder," he replied.

"They won't be! They're adorable. And they're going to adore my fake boyfriend!"

You and Steve exchanged a smile.

"You can add that to your resume when you decide to look for work again: 'experience as a convincing fake boyfriend'. Might open some doors for you in the theatre business."

He couldn't refrain a laugh.

"Thank you for making such efforts to find me a job."

"You're welcome. Writing simply: 'ex-superhero, multiple experiences in saving the world against intergalactic threats' just ain't enough to find anything decent these days."

"You haven't told me what you've decided to do now."

"Because I don't know what to do. But I'll find out."

Another warm smile was exchanged, Steve's reaching the corner of his eyes but something sadder was still hidden in his blue irises. It was okay though, you would do better at making him smile next time.

You were interrupted by the waiter coming to take your plates and offer you the cards for dessert. It didn't matter though. For now, Steve was by your side, you reckoned it was all you needed to be okay.

------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, it's gonna be fine, just relax."

"I am relaxed. You're the one who's panicking."

"I am not."

"You are."

"Oh, shut up."

Your walk from the restaurant to your family's house was short, a mere few minutes. Your family had owned a house in the old town for generations, your grandmother liked to tell you the story of how one of your ancestors used to be a corsair. Some in your family had been fishermen or in the military as well, although these traditions had waned and your parents were now a nurse and a teacher. Which your grandmother laughed at profusely, as she had been working at the docks herself and found it funny to call them both traitors.

Your family owned a large apartment in a building close to the cathedral. The building itself had been rebuilt after the second world war, but the large family had made sure to get an apartment large enough for them all. Your corsair ancestor had brought fortune to your family, buying a large house at the time. If the apartment was nothing compared to the historical house, it was still enough for your large family to fit in. Your grandmother still lived there, and the rest of your relatives had been dispatched through the more modern parts of town, or some, just like you, had left the town to build a life elsewhere.

But the traditional Christmas and New Year celebrations were always set in the ancestral flat. This year, the Christmas dinner would include your grandmother, your parents, your sister and her wife, your brother and his wife along with their two children, one of your aunts and one of your uncles, along with you and Steve, of course. As you had pointed to Steve, you weren't so many this year – considering your grandmothers many brothers and sisters who sometimes were invited as well - and at the exception of your aunt and sister, all were living near or in Saint-Malo. Which was why you and Steve had a room waiting for you in the apartment. You had proposed to go to a hotel, but your grandmother had sounded so offended on the phone that you had to give it up. So, Steve and you would sleep in the same room…

Despite the journey to the building being short, the rain was falling heavily on the town still, and you were both drenched when you reached the stern home. Your suitcase made loud banging noises as you climbed up the streets, the wheels banging into the cobblestones. Steve was carrying a large army bag on his shoulder instead, his beanie glimmering with raindrops.

"I swear, if she's not home yet, I will murder someone," you mumbled under your breath as you rang at the door.

"We could use the time to visit," Steve replied, looking around him.

You raised a hand and put on a tired expression.

"I am jetlagged, I am soaked wet, I am cold, I am exhausted, I am stressed out. I need a warm coffee and some gingerbread, not an adventure under the freezing rain. We'll visit tomorrow, it's a promise. Right now, I just want to get warm and dry."

"We've just eaten, and you want gingerbread?" was all Steve found to answer, but he was terrible at hiding how amused he was.

"You're saying that because you've never tried my grandmother's gingerbread. It's a secret recipe, even I can't know it. She says it will be given to us at the reading of her will."

But the door opened and you could find shelter inside.

You used the old irony lift to climb up to the third floor, and went straight for the door on the left. Your grandmother was faster though, already opening the door for you to enter.

"Oh, Y/N! Je suis contente de te voir!" she held you in her arms tightly enough to make you worry about your ribs.

"Moi aussi, mamie," you smiled and hugged her as well, before turning to Steve, who was waiting on the threshold. "This is Steve. Steve, this is Martine, my grandmother."

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am," Steve offered her his open hand, but she disregarded it entirely, and she hugged him and gave him the traditional two kisses on each cheek instead.

"Oh, none of that 'madame' nonsense!" she admonished with a laugh and a heavy French accent. "Martine is enough!"

She took a moment to study Steve a little more through her thick glasses, and gave you a knowing look.

"Pas mal, ma p'tite! Pas mal du tout!"

You gave her a desperate look, but Steve merely laughed.

"Do you speak French?" your grandmother inquired, although you thought she ought to have asked before dropping her 'not bad, kiddo! Not bad at all!' at the sight of Steve and shaming you all the way to the next century.

"Un peu," Steve shrugged. "I learnt a little during the war."

"He's fluent," you rolled your eyes at his modesty.

"Oh yes! You were turned into a… oh, how do you say 'glaçon' in English…? Icecube! Yes! Y/N mentioned that! But come in, come in! Oh, you poor things, you're all wet. Sacré pluie! It keeps on raining here in winter."

"Mamie, it rains all year long here," you joked, owning a gentle slap on your arm.

"Chut! I've prepared the second bedroom for the two of you. Get dry, I'll make you some coffee. Un café guérit tout! That's what my father used to say: a coffee heals everything."

You dropped your bags into the room, unsurprisingly discovering only one bed in the room decorated in an old-fashioned way. You took a moment to both change into dry clothes, before joining your grandmother in the living room again. You sat in the sofa while she brought you some coffee.

"Here, all hot! How was your plane?" she asked.

"The flight went well," you answered with a smile. "No trouble."

"And the trains? You arrived in Paris, right?"

"Yeah, that part was a bit of a mess."

"Ha, strikes again," your grandmother nodded. "Ought to keep the politics on their heels."

You and Steve both giggled.

"On their toes, mamie, not their heels."

"Same thing. Has to do with their feet anyway."

"When is everyone arriving?" you asked her, sipping on your warm beverage.

"Tonight, so we can all meet Steve!" she answered with a large smile towards your fake boyfriend.

"Where's Bouton?" you inquired, looking around through the old furniture that smelled like soap, salt and foam.

"Off somewhere. Bouton is our cat," your grandmother explained. "He comes and goes as he pleases, but he loves Y/N a lot. He used to follow her everywhere whenever she came."

"I heard about monsieur Le Kennec too," you said with earnest sadness. "I was sorry to hear about his passing. He was our neighbour downstairs," you explained for Steve. "He always had crazy legends and stories to tell when I was a child. Did you go to his funerals, mamie?"

"Yes. Sad thing. The funerals were yesterday. Fell down the stairs, apparently. He was an old man, after all. Still, he was in such a good shape for his age! I would never had imagined he could die like this."

"A shame. He was very nice."

"And a little crazy. But that's why we loved him. I'll miss him."

"Me too. But, how are you? How's your knee?" you asked, but the old lady brushed your question away.

"Bien, bien! I'm fine! I'm not the interesting one here! So, tell me everything! How did you start dating? Are you happy? When is the weeding?"

"Mamie!" you stopped her, but she merely laughed.

"Just a joke! But I still want to know everything! And more about you, Steve! We have the afternoon to talk, I want to know everything. After all, you'll have to face my son-in-law tonight, and he's very… protecteur?"

"Protective," you corrected. "Yeah… kind of."

"Y/N failed to mention that," Steve gave you a look, but you merely shrugged in silence.

An alarm dinged in the kitchen, and your grandmother hurried to get the cake she was baking. Meanwhile, as your grandmother refused your or Steve's help, your fake boyfriend turned to you.

"So, your father is going to murder me?"

"Possibly…" you answered, your head in your coffee.

He heaved a sigh.

"Nice…"

First, he had to face your grandmother, who seemed to be very nice, but still, the questions would be many, it was obvious. And he had never been of the talkative kind. Lying the whole afternoon promised to be a challenge he would have rather not defied.

How would the evening with your family unfold? That was another level of challenge entirely…

***************************************

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@jigsawlover10 @emyyjemyy @addictedtofictionalcharacters

@rishlo @theshortegg @madamrogers @marvelcapsicle

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america imagine #marvel #MCU #imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #winter event #winter event 2019 #steve rogers au #au

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icarus-suraki · 4 years ago

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fabric asks: cotton, eyelet, lace :)

This got so long, ha ha ha ha fuck....

cotton: what’s your favorite time of the day? This is sort of ironic because I really, really like to sleep, but I actually like early mornings. If I have to be up, if I'm already up, if I miraculously get up, I really like early mornings.

Maybe it comes from having to get to school basically before dawn in middle school and high school--I mean, when your first class starts at 7:30, you're up pretty early. So I remember riding the bus in or being driven in and the sky was almost always interesting in one way or another.

We had a major, major hurricane here in 1996. I was in high school and my dad was driving me to school (it was on the way to work for him) and it was the morning before the hurricane made landfall. And he and I were both decidedly distracted by the sky. It was already humid (I mean, they are tropical storms, hurricanes), but it wasn't cloudy or raining. In fact, it was surprisingly clear, but the wind was up and coming out of the east instead of the west. So the wind was already coming in over all the miles between us and the Atlantic ocean. There were only a few shreds of clouds, but dense clouds, that were blowing along and they were all golden in the light. I saw a lot of sunrises and early mornings in my school years and I really remember some of them.

Honestly, I see a lot of early mornings now, but it's harder to admire them when I'm the one driving, lol.

eyelet: what’s your favorite place? My bed? Mmm, yeah...

Actually, it's the house I grew up in during the time we lived there. It's all changed now, so it's not really the same place, but it's probably my favorite place. It's nothing to speak of, just a 1-story 1970s ranch house in a neighborhood of more ranches and occasional split-levels. But, I don't know, I like it.

Like, it faced fully east, so remember how I said I liked early mornings? The morning sun would just flood my room. And it was up on a hill that flattened out into the cul-de-sac, then sloped down again on the other side of the street, down to a little creek. So we had the best view out over the trees on that far slope. In late winter, late in the day, if it was clear, the sun would set with the light at this almost horizontal angle and in this dark golden-orange color. But half the light would be blocked by the hillsides, so only part of the trees across the cul-de-sac would be lighted. It was like the sun was already low enough that the tops of the trees were dark, and the bottoms of the trees were in the shadow of our hill, but the trunks and the rising land behind them were all orangey-rosy-gold.

And our hill was ideal for sledding when we got some big snowstorms (and we did, too). You could start at our carport (later a garage) and launch yourself down the whole hill, slide across the road, and then if you aimed right you could slide all the way down the clear side of our neighbors' house all the way to the creek. I can literally taste that sour-cold snow smell right now lol.

And all the grass and trees--we had this huge old oak tree that snapped off in the 1996 hurricane I mentioned up there earlier, which was a shame, but we had so many big trees. And this one random white oak that grew in the middle of the backyard but it had moss on its trunk and violets and little white starflowers (I don't know their real name) grew around it. All the moss along the side of our yard, too. And the apple tree that was at the back of our house, trained up along the chimney. And my dad's radio antennas strung up in the trees too. And the people behind us and their elaborate landscaping (which was forbidden territory, which made it sort of magic?). And the forest of feral bamboo. And the walking trails and the little pocket parks. And the patch of pine trees in those two or three yards (and no other kinds of trees). All the dogwoods in spring and all the leaves in fall (and we had a tarp that was made to cover a 1970s Buick, so it was Not Small, that we used to haul leaves out of our yard and we'd measure leaf collections in Buicks, but that made some amazing leaf piles for jumping in). And the various pets in the neighborhood. And the neighborhood pool in the summer, which is where I got to hear a lot of music for the first time.

If I keep going like this, I might cry, because I really do miss it so much.

It got harder and harder to enjoy as we all got older because, after a certain point, the parents would start looking at you funny when you were walking around in the woods. They all came of age in the 60s and 70s, so they probably thought I was looking for a good spot to smoke weed, drink, make-out, whatever. But, no, I just wanted to pretend to be an elf for a while longer--and not a refined, Tolkien, High-Elf elf either; this was a much more earthy, muddy kind of elf. It sucks that there was this unspoken cutoff point and you were supposed to be more interested in dating and college and jobs and "going out" with friends. My folks enforced that cutoff in a major way, but only in regards to college and jobs. No more fooling around outside unless it has a purpose.

I still want to just go play around in the woods like I used to. And there are woods around here--plenty of them, too. But when you're in your late 30s, you do get stared at. When I go on a walk in one of parks around here in my ordinary clothes, I'm almost weird for it. Like, there's lots of people walking, but they're all in workout clothes and they're just powerwalking around this lake, talking on their phones or with their two or three powerwalking friends. And I'm just slouching along in my flipflops, looking at leaves. I get some odd looks and I don't like it. I really wish I could just play elf again (inb4LARPing, though I might yet cosplay Deedlit before I get too old).

I don't know, does an era, does a time count as a place? Because these places at that time are my favorite time and place.

I could literally talk for years about that whole neighborhood.

lace: what is your favorite constellation? I have a special place in my heart for the Pleiades. This is not unusual, and you might even call it basic, I know--but I'm allowed.

First, my zodiac sign is Taurus and the Pleiades sit in the constellation of Taurus.

Second, in my New Age-tinged teen years, the Pleiades were always held in high regard for everyone into alien contact or close encounters. It was like the Good Aliens came from the Pleiades.

Around that time, there was this quiz going around via email, like a chain letter--remember, this was about 1995 or 1996, so these forwarded emails were like proto-memes or ur-memes--that had about 100 questions or so to determine if you were a "lightworker" or a "starseed" or if your soul was from Atlantis or if you were somehow connected to aliens and psychic powers and all that (what it really tested was how much your tastes aligned to what would now be called the "aesthetic" of "new-agecore"). It's kind of classic now, and a bit cringé. Anyway, that had two or three questions about the Pleiades, so of course that made them a bit more "my thing." (I grew out of that phase, but I do kind of miss it. It was probably more good for me than bad back then because it gave me something to hang on to: school may suck and I have no friends, but I'm ~special~ and maybe the aliens will let me come visit them.)

Third, I loved wearing my mother's old leather gloves in the winter when I was very young. She mostly wore them to drive and then would take them off, so I'd put them on. I was 4, 5, 6 years old, so even though my mother is tiny, these gloves were still huge on me. And she'd always say I looked like Maia in Mary Poppins.

Not the movie, the books. In one of the stories, Maia, one of the Seven Sisters, comes down to London to do Christmas shopping for her six sisters and asks Jane and Michael (I think it's just the two of them in this part?) for advice. It's very cold and Maia doesn't have any gloves and is usually illustrated all dressed in gauze and she's cold. So Mary Poppins gives Maia her gloves, which are entirely too large for her hands, but they keep Maia warm as she goes back up to the stars again.

So this is me, evidently...

And last, but not least, I have really bad vision. Like, really bad. Like, completely horrible. Like, I cannot function without corrective lenses at all. So I could kind of sort of see some constellations but the stars were always a bit fuzzy (thanks, astigmatism) and not, like, the points of light poets like to say they are. Twinkle? Nah, they're just fuzzballs, but I digress.

Except that one night, sometime in the fall (I remember it was cold), I was looking up at the sky and I saw something like a star in the corner of my eye. So I looked at it but I didn't see it. Looked away, saw it; looked at it, didn't see it. So I messed around a little and finally saw this kind of cloud of stars that I could only see if I didn't look directly at it. And that's kind of magic. So I learned that was the Pleiades, which is actually a place where stars are being born right now.

So, for me, it's the Seven Sisters. And reading that stories about the Pleiades might go back to when all of humanity was still in Africa really moves something in me.

#noises from issy #ask me stuff #askbox games #meme

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twistednuns · 4 years ago

Text

October 2020

To buttress - increase the strength of or justification for; reinforce / to mollycoddle - to give someone too much care or protection.

A letter from Nina. One of those weird internet connections. Not my first one, certainly not my last one.

Frank’s DnD backstory reads quite insightful/poetic to me as he has taken so much from his life. He might have done it without intent but it’s quite obvious to me. I’ve agreed to make a character sketch for him. I’m looking forward to the challenge but I’m also afraid of starting the project because obviously I want it to be perfect. Anyway so the other night I sat at his kitchen table and started drawing a facial composite for his goliath. Lots of sketches actually with him giving me some prompts and ideas. I think he loved watching me do my magic. What a peaceful moment.

Applause from some students. Simply for entering the room. They must really hate their English teacher, eh?

I’ve started forming the habit of drawing tarot cards on a full moon and new moon night. It helps me set an intention for the following two weeks. So on the first of October I drew the Queen of Wands to represent me and I’m loving it. It’s the perfect choice.

The fabric dyeing process for the Plot exhibition at Haus der Kunst

Inviting warmth into my life. Wearing appropriately warm clothing. Even hats. Drinking tea all the time. Turning the heating on even though it’s only September. Warm breakfast. Ayurveda inspiration. Hot baths. Thinking about buying an electric heating blanket for my bed.So far I’ve been taking a hot water bottle to bed with me pretty much every night.

Finding one of those Barts woolly animal hats online. This one came with tigers. And the seller sent me a cherry marzipan teabag. I enjoyed it on a cold and rainy Saturday morning.

FAQ: The Status of the Shits Women Have Left to Give

Reading the final scenes of Leigh Bardugo’s Shadow and Bone trilogy. I actually took the wrong bus one evening and ended up in front of one of the Pinakotheken instead of Villa Stuck. I must have been quite immersed. I’m very happy with the ending. I mean, the main character is walking around the house barefoot with the smell of fresh paint following her, her hair loose. What a wonderful image.

The wind blowing through the maple trees outside my living room window. I’m just going to quote a Wikipedia article to explain what happened next: The distinctive fruits are called samaras, “maple keys”, “helicopters”, “whirlybirds” or “polynoses”. These seeds occur in distinctive pairs each containing one seed enclosed in a “nutlet” attached to a flattened wing of fibrous, papery tissue. They are shaped to spin as they fall and to carry the seeds a considerable distance on the wind. People often call them “helicopters” due to the way that they spin as they fall. During World War II, the US Army developed a special airdrop supply carrier that could carry up to 65 pounds (29 kg) of supplies and was based on the maple seed.

Monsieur Wiener - I’ve paid him a visit when I had problems with my analogue Pentax camera!

I don’t know why but one dark Friday evening I slipped into the empty church at Odeonsplatz. I loved the peaceful atmosphere, the specific smell and the red church candles flickering.

I loved meeting Flo. We had such a great time, constantly joking, talking about this and that. Sailor Mercury, Hades, our family. His wink. He said that I had been exactly right but in the end apparently I wasn’t. It stung because he had been one of the rare guys in the last months (years, actually) I actually liked. Oh well. I guess it wasn’t meant to be after all. This is what the Universe had to say about it the other day: There are no accidents. If it’s appeared on your life’s radar, this is why: to teach you that dreams come true; to reveal that you have the power to fix what’s broken and heal what hurts; to catapult you beyond seeing with just your physical senses; and to lift the veils that have kept you from seeing that you’re already the person you dreamed you’d become.

Videos of Marno and Erin together. Also: she is so freakin’ beautiful as a marauder.

A surprise call from Ann-Katrin.

Sweet chai tea with milk.

The bright moonlight making the neighbours’ roof look like fish scales.

Forensic linguistics. I listened to a podcast episode about the Unabomber who was only discovered after his brother had noticed some stylistic irregularities in his manifesto. You can’t eat your cake and have it too.

Autumn leaves. Especially when it’s just the outer leaves turning red or yellow while the rest of the foliage is still green.

Sitting next to my ten-year-old student Ella on the bus on our way home on a Friday afternoon. She’s a very chatty Gemini and even though her self-importance and constant talking can be quite annoying I’ve kinda taken a liking to her.

A bunch of Alstroemeria in my dark green glass vase on the desk. A pretty image.

I still appreciate how beautiful my LuLuLemon thermos bottle is after all this time.

I should probably mention my new hair (extensions). Well, it looks absolutely gorgeous from the front. But I already know that I won’t get them again because you can see the glue in a few places, it’s quite hard, often painful and feels unnatural. And of course it’s much too expensive.

Baby carrots with King hummus.

My lunch dates with Becky.

Making my favourite sour thai curry. With rice noodles. And peanuts and cilantro. Yum.

Starting to work on a big soapstone sculpture. It’s going to be a hand! I love it when I have a group of calm students. It allows me to work on a project with them.

Making delicious pumpkin lasagna.

Visiting Manu’s mum. Making plum dumplings together. A fun afternoon in their kitchen.

A very cosy Sunday. Waking up at 5:30am. Watching Practical Magic in bed. Having a slice of pumpkin lasagna for breakfast. A sudden urge to get out, dressing up to keep out the cold, going out, early, streetlights still on. A walk through the woods. I loved how calm everything was. Being out before all the others had a chance to disturb the stillness with their kids and dogs and bicycles. Making lebkuchen. Lots of pecans. Having a nap. Writing a letter. Drawing weird mushrooms and bugs.

Autumnal smells. The moist smell of the forest ground, mushrooms, the smell of chimneys on a cold Sunday morning. Incense, gingerbread spices. Facial oil with lavender and iris. Roasted pecans.

A crafty day. I made a haunted house, some ghosts, spiders, bats, skulls and pumpkins out of paper.

Schlurp.

Meeting Frank in front of Residenztheater. The whole square was empty, he was the only person there. Waiting for me. Looking up to the opera roof. What an impressive building.

Talking about living life in story mode and action mode. I feel so stuck in action mode at the moment and desperately want to switch to story mode. Fantasy, magic, coincidences and meaning.

Spicy pumpkin recipes in the current issue of Schrot und Korn.

Rice and hazelnut milk as a bedtime treat.

Collecting autumn leaves. Chestnuts, acorns, feathers, beechnuts. Making a little autumnal alter with some crystals.

Thursday mornings. So much time for myself. Lots of tea, warm breakfast.

Treating myself to massages and nice facial creams and serums. Ya Yah is such a gifted person. I love her massages the most. The other day I also got a facial for the first time in many many years. It was nice to be wrapped in an extremely fluffy blanket. When the bright lights were on I could see different colours after closing my eyes and imagined being at a tropical beach. Unintentional ASMR sounds from the rubber gloves. Cosy.

Spicy winter tea in my new thermos bottle. The steam swirling up from my favourite mug (the moon phase mug I bough in Canada).

Buying cheap sparkly stickers, washi tape and stamps. Just because.

Pecan nuts are the BEST. Crazy delicious.

Porridge with coconut milk and mango for breakfast. Persimmons. Candles in the morning.

Gloomy twilight. The dark hour right before sunset/sunrise. Spooky black silhouettes against the ink blue or greyish white sky. Fairy lights. Memories of spending Halloween at Greyfriar’s Kirkyard in Edinburgh.

Finding yet another woolly hat for my collection. This time with pheasants.

Deltavenus’ Instagram feed.

Cutting open a fresh lime.

Happily singing along to my two favourite mantras (Jai Mata Kali / Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha) while making apple galette. Trying to harmonise in different ways.

A very surprising call from Claudia. She ended up in my kitchen, drinking half a bottle of wine.

A lovely Sunday with Sash. A walk through the English garden. Watching the waterfall, falling leaves, backlit by the afternoon sunlight. Haus der Kunst. Getting in for free (art teacher bonus). I really liked the Michael Armitage exhibition and the enormous dyed curtains in the hall. Franz Erhard Walther’s Dust of Stars autobiography was impressive as well. I just ordered the book online; I’m looking forward to reading it. We also had a drink at Goldene Bar and enjoyed a late lunch at Baoz Bar.

Becky leaving me a lovely note and an English magazine on my desk.

Fink’s Knödelstube with Lena and Sash. We had 13 different kinds of dumplings. Heavenly delicious.

I came to realise that mornings are my favourite time of the day. I love gloomy, dark sunrises and my usual productivity highs.

Writing limericks with the kids.

Getting lost in the woods after dark which might not look like a good think at first glance but I uncovered a little secret - some bee hives I had never seen before!

A mild obsession with The Corrs’ song Old Town. I didn’t even know where it came from. It’s not a song I’ve ever actively listened to.

Learning about sesame plants. Another one of those plants I expected to look completely different.

I can smell mushrooms. On Saturday morning I went to the forest again early in the morning and whenever I would get a whiff of mushrooms and look down there they were.

Dog owners wishing me a good morning on my walk. Interestingly only men, the women tend to ignore me.

Wicked! - Modern Art’s Interest in the Occult. Learning about Leonora Carrington.

James’ chameleons in art class. He drew one representing each of his family members. He was the one licking a bat. Bold.

Buying far too many books. But I found out that Naomi Novik just published a new novel about a school of magic. And within two days I came across the writer Ursula K. Le Guin three times so I took it as a sign and got one of her books as well.

Prepare for the Roaring Twenties - The human desire to socialize will survive the pandemic.

A deep talk session with Jonathan about getting old, having children, self-worth, dating, obeying rules.

Finding my favourite pair of jeans on Kleiderkreisel for a fraction of the original price. And a baseball jacket with a Strange Ladies Society print on the back.

A walk in the forest before work. Something I’ve never done before I think. So good for my nerves, really.

The art of decision-making.

Joy praising me for my authoritative voice (effectively making the fifth-graders do what I want).

Decorating the classroom with the fifth-graders. I love my haunted house on the window pane, their lovely spiders, ghosts and bats. I should probably mention that our class mascot is a cute spider named Crawley so we’re all quite into spooky stuff. On the last day before the holidays we all showed up in costumes, played a Halloween quiz, listened to creepy music and I brought some candy, too. Fun!

Meeting the gang on Halloween. Japanese-inspired dinner and a board game.

#things i love #present perfect #personal #october #2020 #october 2020

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menswearmusings · 5 years ago

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After You Buy All the Essentials, Then What? My Personal List Moving Forward

Switching focus from the urgent to the important is a vital practice in the business world. Have you ever worked somewhere where it’s clear that instead of thinking critically about the core of the organization’s mission for ways to grow and improve, the focus is instead on whatever the newest, shiniest idea is (or often, whatever the latest crisis is)?

I always had a sense of urgency about buying clothes, because my goal was to dress in cool tailoring every day of the week in ways that I would consider meaningfully different. But being constrained by a budget meant I had to think carefully about what I bought, so I wouldn’t end up with something because it was a great deal, only to discover I had very little use for it. So I created a list of clothes I wanted that I imagined would comprise a complete wardrobe (for my tastes and needs). That helped me stay focused on my goals when sale season started and there were so many awesome things to buy.

Now, though, having largely built that wardrobe I imagined, I tend to get distracted by the new, shiny thing much more. I’ll find some product on eBay or in a shop on sale and become obsessed with it, going back to look at it over and over again. Without that hit list of must-buys to bring myself back from the brink, I always have a creeping sense that whatever it is I end up actually purchasing is maybe the wrong choice for me and I should instead be saving that money for some other, better purchase down the road. I’ve picked all the low-hanging fruit, but I have no personal guidance for reaching higher.

So, in an effort to try and refocus myself on buying what I can consider important purchases—not just those with the urgency of desire—here’s my list of next must-haves.

(By the way, if you’re just starting out and want some help building a wardrobe from scratch, check out my “Guide to Building a Tailored Wardrobe.” In it, I explain just that—how to have the right mindset about buying clothes, plus specific advice for versatility in clothing. Check it out here.)

More cotton-linen trousers for summer

Since becoming a dad—but even before then—dress trousers in wool just don’t get much wear from me. Primarily that’s because pants need cleaning more often, and I hate dry cleaning bills. But it’s also because I prefer a silhouette that just doesn’t work with dress pants, at least in wool. Jeans or even chinos made of denim or cotton twill drape differently and thus can work in the tapered cut I prefer. My previously perfectly fitting flannel trousers with that ideal taper from Spier & Mackay are now too slim because my calves got too big. So I have to go fuller. I’m fine going with that in a drapey wool, but day to day I prefer a slimmer knee and slightly tapered opening at the hem.

This is why cotton-linen trousers exist. Cotton-linen seems to have that perfect balance of cotton’s stiffness with linen’s drape, so they hang well but are forgiving if the fit isn’t bespoke-perfect or your proportions make things difficult. Pure linen just doesn’t give off the vibe I’m looking for typically (it feels a little more louche the way it hangs and rumples than I as a person am). And other options like wool-silk-linen blends are beautiful and amazing (I’ll get those below), but what I like about cotton-linen is I can usually machine wash it myself to no ill effect. Currently I have one pair, so it’d be nice to get another 2-3 to rotate through (much as I have with flannel in the winter). My list would be:

A second pair of off-white

Tan / khaki

Deeper brown

Maybe a light blue or mid-navy

Options I have for buying these: Spier & Mackay’s dress trouser fit is still my best bet right now, and I’ve been told they’ll have a crop of 7 colors of cotton-linen trousers in mid-April. That said, I also just purchased some pairs from Brooks Brothers’ Red Fleece line that arrive soon, made from fabric by the same mill as Spier’s, for $37 a pair that might work, too.

A rotation of good chinos and a pair of light wash jeans that fit

Chinos are nice because they dress up or down pretty well (you can wear a tie with them without it being weird, unlike five-pocket pants, but on their own without a jacket they’re good too), and if you get them in the right fabric, they’re pretty hard-wearing.

Finding chinos that 1- don’t have stretch, 2- are made from material that’s a good mid-weight, and 3- fit the way I want is extremely difficult. You wouldn’t think so but man it’s hard to find good chinos. And finding good, faded jeans with similar qualities is likewise hard without spending $200+. That said, if I can find them, what would make my wardrobe happy would be chinos in:

Off-white

Stone

True khaki

Possibly a pair in fatigue, which is a good color when it’s too hot to wear a jacket

Options for chinos are tricky. I like the idea of what fellow menswear blogger Ian is doing with his new shop Lost Monarch; $125 is hefty for chinos, but I suppose if they fit really well and the fabric rules, the investment might be worth it. I also always forget about classic chino maker Bill’s Khakis, which was always hailed as having the highest quality back in my early Styleforum days. They introduced a number of slimmer fitting styles over the years and are still fairly easy to find on eBay. Spier & Mackay’s chinos are a great deal but each time I’ve tried them, the fit’s been off for me in some way or other. I might try them once again this spring.

As for light wash jeans, I’ll be looking probably at American Eagle, Polo RL, Abercrombie, Banana Republic, and other mall brands. Much as I’d like to get some 3-Sixteens or even Naked and Famous, they’re hard to get ahold of where I live and trying jeans on is critical.

A dark navy blazer in both single and double breasted configurations

I have seasonally appropriate navy jackets—one is wool/cashmere for winter, and one is raw silk for summer—and last summer I added a dark blue double breasted jacket for summer as well. When I recently tried on No Man Walks Alone’s Sartoria Carrara jackettried on No Man Walks Alone’s Sartoria Carrara jacket, which was a dark navy twill, I remembered why dark navy jackets exist: they’re classy as heck. All my navy jackets are slightly lighter shades of navy, which is great, but a good, dark navy blazer brings some gravity to an outfit, looks great in the evening and dresses up very well for more formal occasions.

That said, it’s gotta be the right texture. Hopsack wool is a good option; I would also be interested in some kind of blend like wool-silk-linen or similar. I’m not a fan of mohair, so I wouldn’t do that, and the high twist fabrics are tricky because they tend to look fairly smooth, while I like a little more surface texture. Given how much I like my SuitSupply Jort blazer, I’m hoping they release a double breasted jacket that might fit the bill this spring/summer. As for single breasted, I really, really liked that NMWAxCarrara jacketNMWAxCarrara jacket, so something closer to a 3-season fabric from him would be amazing. Of course Spier & Mackay has staple hopsack wool blazers in both their Neapolitan cut and regular cut, which sold out quickly in my size.

A dark navy double breasted blazer by Ring Jacket (model 6) I tried on at The Armoury in New York City. Click the image to see the product page of this actual jacket at their site.

A pair or two of summer trousers in a nicer fabric

Cotton linen trousers and chinos are as dressy as I need them to be most of the time in my life, but it’s still nice to have a pair of classier dress trousers in summer for occasions that call for it. I’ve had gray hopsack and fresco in the past, but those were more corporate than I was looking for.

Summer is the time for levity in the color palette, so I really like the idea of a light or mid blue (maybe a petrol blue). Every time Greg at No Man Walks Alone does spring pre-orders for Rota, they offer these beautiful wool/silk/linen blend fabrics, including petrol blue in the past, and every time, I love how they look but always stopped short of ordering for various reasons. A sufficiently textured, interesting blend in a light gray would also be nice and would be better than a corporate looking fresco or tropical wool. In the swatches below, which were for this season’s Rota trouser made to order options, the blue and gray at the top hold appeal, and even that green at the bottom.

Swatches for Rita wool/silk/linen trousers From No Man Walks Alone.

Some dress shirts from Anglo-Italian

It feels like I’ve been banging on about this for years at this point, I know, but their reverse stripe OCBD is great and I need to just pull the trigger and buy it. But beyond that, Anglo’s house dress shirt model is essentially the perfect shirt: the collar shape is an ideal wide spread with no tie space and that isn’t too stiff; the fit is comfortable but not baggy; and the details are all there both quality and design-wise. The back shirring is maybe a bit out there for many people, but these shirts are meant to be worn under a jacket, which is how I’d wear them. I’d buy white first then probably their blue end-on-end and maybe the bengal stripe. They’re expensive at $175, but that’s less than other comparable Italian dress shirt companies like Finamore or Borrelli.

A couple additional pairs of suede shoes

I love suede for its versatility in dressing up or down. What I wear 95% of the time are snuff suede penny loafers, snuff suede chukkas and tan suede tassel loafers. I’m looking to get more dark brown suede, which, sorta like true dark navy blazers, brings some gravity to an outfit. My penny loafers have been through some rough times; I plan to resole them (which they badly need), but it’d be nice to have a pair that aren’t so beaten up. I prefer a sleeker last shape most of the time (not pointy, maybe almond shaped) to the round lasts you see from classic Ivy brands like Alden, which are more casual and carry a lot more of that Ivy feeling (something I’m always trying to temper with more rakish aesthetics). That said, a rounded loafer of some kind to wear strictly casually is something I’d like to get to help share the load with the other shoes. I’ve also been really into the split toe derby look the last year or so. I tried The Armoury’s on when I visited there in 2018, and really liked it.

So, the list would be:

Dark brown suede penny loafers

Dark brown suede Chelsea boots

Brown suede split toe

Dark or mid-brown suede beef roll or similar more casual loafers

I’ve noticed that the most comfortable shoes I love wearing the most are all made by Allen Edmonds, so I’ll be looking at those for sure. The Sea Island in particular looks awesome for that casual loafer. Beckett Simonon has some suede boots and given how comfortable their shoes are, their Bolton Chelsea looks nice. Meermin of course is another option for suede boots, and they have a penny loafer that might fit the bill for me, too. Spier & Mackay’s shoe offerings look very good, including this suede penny loafer. And of course the Armoury’s split toe derby is the one I’m most looking at for that category as I’m sort of picky when it comes to split toe shoes.

So there’s my hit list moving forward. I’ve already deviated from it this season by purchasing an excellent but not-on-this-list jacket from Spier & Mackay in 100% linen by Sondrio in a mid-brown glen check pattern. It surprised me how much I loved it, so I’m letting myself deviate from the list, guilt-free. And at the end of the day, the clothing hobby is all about enjoying life anyhow, and what could be more important than than?

(Help support this site! If you buy stuff through my links, your clicks and purchases earn me a commission from many of the retailers I feature, and it helps me sustain this site—as well as my menswear habit ;-) Thanks!)