#i’ve been in a country where noone has blue eyes recently

[skydaemon]

just thinking about kabru. did you know a 2010 study found blue-eyed males were perceived as less dominant (a trait correlating with masculinity) than their brown-eyed counterparts? did you know a 2013 study found that people trust brown-eyed individuals more than blue-eyed? did you know a 2015 study found it harder to track where blue-eyed babies were looking? did you know blue eyes are associated with substance use problems?

just thinking about kabru.

[quartzwriting]

The Agent and Her Sorcerer

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Fem!Reader

Description: You, an agent who works with The Avengers, comes back to the compound to find that Doctor Strange has brought you coffee.

Warnings: mentions of drinking and doing the dirty

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: Originally posted on Quotev | Things have been busy, so has mental heath things, so idk when new things will come out. I love this piece tho so I hope this makes up for it. 

Masterlist | Fic Reading Recs | Ao3 | Quotev | Coffee

Gif by @cumberbatchlives

Technically a sequel to The Sorcerer and The Agent

When you stepped off the jet and onto the landing, you let out a long breath of relief. That field mission was finally over. It was an early call that got you out of bed before the sun came up. Too early for your body to function, but with the encouragement of coffee and Captain Rogers forcing you out of bed, you conquered the task. You checked your phone for the time, it was now around noon. You were ready to sit down, maybe even take a nap. You desperately needed a break.

But you knew you would not be able to rest.

Tony was already on your ass. He came out of nowhere, scaring the life back into you, and shoved a tablet in your hands. "Before you file your report, you got another one."

You groaned, falling into step beside him to make your way into the building. "Already?"

Tony pushed a few things on your tablet and an image came up. It was one of the objects you had recovered from this morning's mission. On the side was a stream of jumbled letters and numbers.

"Decoding, seriously?"

Tony shrugged, with a grin on his face that you wanted to punch off. "Hey, you're best for the job."

"Can't FRIDAY just run through it?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

You glared at him.

"Come on, you got this."

You rolled your eyes, "Fine. Only because it might give us a new lead."

"Atta girl! Don't stress yourself out."

You were already stressed.

"Oh and by the way, someone in the lounge is here to see you."

After a brief moment of surprise, you knew who it was. Tony saw the smile appear on your face, then winked at you. You rolled your eyes at him.

You tucked the tablet under your arm and made your way to the lounge. Maybe you were getting a little break before continuing for the day after all. A small amount of energy that came from your happiness pushed you forwards.

When you got there, sure enough, there he was.

"Hey, I thought you might want coffee."

You chuckled. Of course you wanted coffee.

Stephen Strange had a coffee tray in his hands that had two cups in it. He was standing around looking a little awkward, a little out of place at the compound. He looked relived to see you, as if anyone else in the doorway would made him embarrassed. His serious demeanor was no where in sight, a hint of warmth in his cheeks.

He wasn't wearing his sorcerer robes, but casual clothes. A jacket, dark jeans, sneakers, a t-shirt, simple things that you got to see him in more often now. You liked it. Very much.

Without any hesitation, you made your way over to him. Giving him a big smile the entire way. You put your tablet down so you could take the cup he was holding out for you. "Thank you." Your gloved hands brushed against his bare shaking ones. The contact was enough to widen your smile.

"Don't mention it."

"Hi! How are you? What's new?" You asked him, leaning one hand on a table and sipping your coffee with the other.

Stephen let out a breath, "Well this morning I helped to try and close a dimensional rip in space time. If we hadn't managed to close it then it would have swallowed an entire country."

"Sounds exciting, Doctor." You hid a smirk behind a look of playfully exaggerated interest.

"Oh it was." He was trying to hide a smirk too, "How about you, Agent (L/N)?" His cheek twitched, trying desperately to not let that smirk slide through.

"Well I just came back from a mission in London where an very well hidden Hydra base was found. There were a few of their agents there, kicked some ass, and managed to recover some of their tech and files. You know, normal things."

"This is a very casual conversation despite its content." He commented.

You both broke after that, smirks turning into fits of chuckles. You reached up and kissed him on the cheek.

The two of you were developing into a 'thing' recently. Whenever he would come to the compound, you would have your eye on him. And you could feel his eye on you as well. It had been going back and forth for a while, finding excuses to talk to each other and purposely being in the same room as one another. Casual attraction.

You noticed the little details in him. Taking every opportunity to make a snarky comment during meetings. Dedication and a 'cool calm' overtaking him whenever disusing anything serious. His gaze of sparkling blue, sharp features, and welcoming smile. The very presence of him either made your heart stop or quicken, sometimes both simultaneously.

Whenever you were both having a conversation, whether for work or just friendly chatter, you found yourself entranced by him. His voice, his gorgeous face, his personality. Not casual attraction anymore, you were sightly obsessed.

But there was always this look in his eyes, that he recognized your attraction to him. And a look that told you he had similar emotions. You just knew it. You paid attention to him. You noticed him paying attention to you with interest, catching him staring on occasion.

Things had went from zero to one hundred at a party that Tony threw last week. You had a little too much to drink. Stephen did too. You found yourselves alone. Things escalated from there. You woke up the next morning in his bed in the New York sanctum, cuddled in his arms. You both went out for breakfast that morning. He took you out for dinner a day after.

Ever since then, he shows up at the compound when he can, or calls you to ask how you are doing. Work for both of you has gotten pretty busy lately so finding time to go out together was hard. But you promised each other another date as soon as you both were free.

This was a long time coming, you both knew that. All it took was one little push. But you did not expect that push to be a little alcohol. It happened anyways, so you decided to take it without complaints.

Stephen looked around, making sure no one else was in the room to intrude. After confirming, he leaned down and stole a kiss from you. You giggled and let him, leaning up into him. He pulled away to let you have another sip of your coffee.

He wasn't drinking from his own cup. You felt his eyes on you. It did not take long to figure out why. You were still in your uniform, one that is similar to Natasha's. Black bodysuit, weapons belt. Skin tight. A blush crept up on your face, some memories coming back from that night. He has seen you wearing this before, but now his gaze had a different weight to it.

"Liking the view, Strange?" You asked with a raised eyebrow and mischief glittering in your eyes.

He shrugged, "Now that I know what it all looks like, I like the view even more." Casual. Calm. Cocky.

You playfully smacked him on the shoulder, bringing his hint of a smile into light. Tucking the tablet under your arm, coffee in one hand and Stephen's own hand in another, you pulled him over to one of the couches. The two of you sat down. "I have a little tech and paperwork to do right now. You're welcome to stay while I do it, if you're free."

He relaxed beside you, an arm slinging over the back of the couch. "I've got time. Wong is watching the Sanctum, I have the afternoon off."

"Maybe if I finish early we can go out?" You asked with a perky smile.

He gestured to your open tablet. "Better get to work then." You laughed, quickly kissed him, and did get to work. You explained to him your tasks, the decoding you needed to do and then fill out your mission report file. He seemed interested, looking over your shoulder the whole time as you explained your process. He watched you complete the decoding, send the results to the cloud, and start typing away at your morning's mission report.

Stephen's presence behind you the entire time was comforting, taking away some of the stress of your busy work. His warmth and the smell of coffee in the air made you content. You felt him start to fiddle with the tails of your hair, you jokingly swatting him away before he went right back to it.

During the breakfast date, and the dinner date, you saw more little things about him you liked. There was curiosity and interest in his eyes. Behind that serious shell was gentleness and kindness, a full heart who thinks for others. It was like after that night, you got to see the real Stephen Strange, not the Sorcerer Supreme. He was a gentle lover, even drunk, making sure you were comfortable the entire time. Eating out together, he was a gentleman. Seeing him around the compound, he seemed to be smiling more.

You never knew the great Doctor Stephen Strange was a total softy. It made you like him even more.

While writing, you found yourself putting extra care into reviewing the mission and its details. This may have been caused by knowing Stephen was watching your every move and you wanted to make a good impression of your work ethic. You made sure to skim through for any mistakes or typos in your writing as well. After some time, discarded cups on the coffee table and Stephen now subtly nuzzling your neck, you submitted your report.

"Do you have to do that after every mission?" The man who was practically wrapping his entire body around yours on the couch asked.

"Yeah. That was one of the longer ones. Most things were more straightforward this time around, but I did a lot in London today." You heaved a sigh, momentary wiggled out of Stephen's arms to plunk your tablet down on the coffee table, and relaxed back into the couch.

"Have anything else to do?" He asked.

"Not currently." You turned to him, now giving him your full attention. He seemed to like it.

"Well then, maybe you and me can go grab lunch?"

"I'd like that."

You watched his eyes dip down, briefly glancing at your lips before looking back up at your eyes. You caught him. This told you what he was thinking about, and soon you were thinking about it yourself. And then you were doing it. One of his hands rested on your cheek, the other found your waist as he kissed you. Your hands tangled around his neck and up into his hair gently.

It was like you lost track of time. You just focused on Stephen, a hand of his running over the fabric of your tight uniform.

"I'm glad Tony threw that party."

You and Stephen urgently parted at the interruption. Standing in the doorway, Steve and Natasha had smug grins. They were still in their uniforms from the mission, Steve's shield strapped across his back. You groaned.

When you told only one person that you went home with Stephen that night, it had spread through the compound like wildfire. Your coworkers all knew, and they were relieved. Finally, they had said. You must have not noticed how obvious you and Stephen's electric stares and intrigued chatter were.

You were a little embarrassed at being caught making out, but the embarrassment practically radiated off Stephen. He immediately straightened upright and cleared his throat. Apparently he did not show his vulnerable side to anyone but you, him instantly clicking back into a neutral expression when facing someone else.

Nat got right to the point, ignoring the irritated look on your face, "We got a new lead. There was a new location marked in one of their files found in London. Venice. We leave in thirty."

A frown glazed your features. You were really looking forward to spending some time with Stephen again. You looked at Stephen, who shared a mutual disappointed look in his eyes. But you knew that he would go let you work. It was annoying.

It wouldn't hurt to ask. Would it?

You stood up from the couch, grabbing your tablet to pull up your report again. You strided towards your bosses, a lick of confidence in your posture.

"Um actually I was kinda hoping if I could get the rest of the day off." You sang.

Steve let out a breath in a smug laugh, while Nat was hiding one of her own.

With a smile, you handed Nat your tablet, the mission report on the screen. Clean, detailed, care put into it, reflecting your hard work you had accomplished all morning. You saw her eyes look it over, the captain leaning in to do the same.

"You did work hard this morning." Steve pointed out.

"And you did eventually save our asses in the end." Nat added.

As you said to Stephen earlier, you did kick ass during the mission.

You gave them a look of hope. It was obvious what you wanted, they both knew it. For some reason you felt like they were lengthening the moment to tease you. To leave you in anticipation.

After what felt like minutes instead of seconds, the two turned to each other and exchanged expressions. Steve nodded. Natasha handed back your tablet.

"Go play with your sorcerer and his magic hands." Natasha whispered to you with a wink. A deep blush crept up onto your neck, and you saw her smirk. Scrunching your face up in a mock sneer, you snatched your tablet back.

"Have fun, you two." Steve said as a goodbye, and him and Natasha left the lounge to get ready for part two of today's investigation.

You turned back to Stephen. He had an impressed look on his face. Now standing, he threw away your empty coffee cups in a nearby bin."You didn't have to do that, you know."

"Too bad. Already did." You shrugged, sauntering back over to stand in front of him.

Stephen gave you a smile, and opened a slingring portal right in front of you both. "Then lets go."

You put down your tablet and went to empty your weapons belt. "I'm still in uniform, Stephen." You laughed, "I should go change first."

The sorcerer snapped his fingers, and your skintight Avengers uniform turned into a pair of leggings and a blouse. An outfit Stephen had complimented you on last week. You were surprised he remembered it.

You rolled your eyes at him, and before you could say anything, he grabbed your hand and pulled you through the portal.

[sylvie-writes]

Could you write an Andy Barber headcannon or one shot of him and reader go looking at Christmas lights and drink hot cocoa and taking lots of pics together and he tells her he’s in love with her for the first time?

Christmas Town

a/n: I love this so much! Thanks for the request. 

For the past two months, you’ve been dating the lovely Andy Barber. 

Things were going swell between the two of you.

When Andy would get home from work, he’d waste no time to call you and invite you out for dinner and such.

You and Andy always had such a great time together, and lately your heart has felt a bit heavier.

It’s grown feelings for the man, and not the ones you feel for a fling. The kind of feelings you feel when you are in love.

Your relationship was fairly new and you didn’t want to scare off the man with those three little words. 

So for now, you decided to keep it looked away deep within your heart, key in hand and ready to unlock when the time came.

Andy had just lost his wife not too long ago, so you were gonna keep your feelings aside till he was ready. 

A few days ago Andy had dropped by your place with the most exciting news. 

“Guess what, honey?’

You looked up at the man, your arms still wrapped around his slim waist, “What?”

A grin made home on his face, “I took off for the week and I was thinking we could go to Christmas Town!”

Every Christmas, you loved to go and watch the lights, but recently, you felt as if you had seen all of them in Massachusetts. A friend told you about Christmas Town which seemed like an absolute dream for you, a holiday fanatic.

One night over dinner you had casually mentioned it to Andy, but you didn’t think that he had actually listened. 

Apparently you were wrong. Very wrong.

The next day marked the start of Andy’s week-long vacation with you. 

Last night, you had packed your bags, Andy doing the same as you’d both be leaving early the next morning. 

It was a ten hour drive, so you may have packed a mini cooler full of snacks.

For the first four hours, you drifted back to sleep. The way Andy’s warm hand encased yours had enticed you to sleep in the first place.

Andy snuck a quick peek, seeing his girl peacefully sleeping in the passenger seat. His heart started to flutter at the sight, and the man couldn't remember the last time he felt this way towards someone. 

With five hours left, you woke up to the bright sight of the noon sun. Your stomach started rumbling and Andy let out a chuckle, suggesting lunch, to which, of course, you agreed. 

Unfortunately, the interstate exit only offered a few chain fast food restaurants. 

After some contemplating, you and Andy decided on one as this might be the last exit for a while.

The last half of the car ride consisted of you and Andy talking about your plans. Since Christmas Town was a one day event, you’d spend three days at the resort, enjoying its amenities. 

By doing so, it left a few days for you and Andy to relax back at home in Newton.

 Before you knew you, Andy had pulled up to the hotel. The lodge looking resort was decked in endless garlands and surrounded by lights. The place was bustling and you knew it was just the Christmas rush, which you secretly enjoyed. 

You and Andy checked in, carrying your bags to the room. 

Upon entering, you saw a gorgeous king suite. Looking around, you were in awe that this man had done all of this for you.

“I take it you like it, sweetheart?”

Andy set down the bags and nervously smiled at you. 

You were so fascinated with the room and change in scenery, that you had totally forgotten to thank Andy.

At once, you rushed into his arms, making the man teeter upon impact. He welcomed you into his arms, and spun you around as your arms were wrapped around his neck.

The man set you down, but not without placing a searing kiss to your lips.

Tired from the trip, you and Andy spent the evening laying in bed, while also ordering room service.

Andy spoiled you so much and you hated him for it. Despite your pleas, the man would still shower you in affection and gifts.

His actions set a pretty high bar for you, so you did your best to try and spoil him just the same. 

It was a little competition between the two of you.

The next day, you and Andy spent a majority of the day exploring Williamsburg. Andy was quite the history buff, so you surprised him with some tickets to Colonial Williamsburg.

Your adorable nerd led you around the settlement telling you the history of each building and what not. 

He was so damn cute you couldn’t stop smiling as he was talking so passionately. 

“Are you smiling because of the Christmas decorations or me?”

You squeezed his arm and leaned into his side, the wind chill making you a bit cold.

“Both, but mainly you.” 

He kissed your hair and continued to act as your tour guide.

By the time you finished visiting Colonial Williamsburg, it was time for Christmas Town to begin.

When the sun started to go down, they started to let people into the park to view the lights. It would defeat the purpose if they did otherwise.

Parking was hell, but it reminded you of your home back North, so it wasn’t anything you both weren’t used to.

Now the line to the tram was a whole other story.

You stood for about an hour, and as you did so, Andy showed you all the pictures he had secretly taken of you at Colonial Williamsburg. 

“Andrew! Why did you take so many pictures of me!”

In the cold, you felt your whole body grow warm out of embarrassment. 

He just smiled and pulled you closer into his side, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Because your smile is the most precious thing.” 

Eventually, you made it into the park and needless to say, the gorgeous lights lived up to the stories you’ve heard. 

Upon entering, you stepped foot into the section modeled to look like England. Garlands wrapped around the shops with lights intertwined within the green. Along the sides, were various Christmas trees, all dolled up in ornaments and ribbons. 

You looked like a kid in a candy store and Andy may have sneaked in another picture.

Grabbing a map, your eyes lit up at all of the activities. There were some shows, lots of food, and even a holiday themed train ride.

Andy’s hand held yours and you wasted no time to drag him around the park. 

Each country that was within the park was themed differently, never failing to amaze you. 

Along the way, you took many pictures with your boyfriend as this was your first trip together. 

Your personal favorite was the one where Andy kissed you on the nose in front of the Polar Pathway. 

The blue and white aura of the lights hanging on the Pompeii building and waterfall made the picture unforgettable.

Anyway, your hands started to grow cold and Andy had the perfect plan. 

The man led you to one of the shops and ordered you both hot cocoas.

You took a sip of the hot drink and instantly felt warmed.

Too wrapped up in everything, you hadn’t even felt the whipped cream that lined your lips.

Andy started to laugh so hard you thought he might pass out.

After collecting himself he leaned forward, “You have something right...here.” 

Your boyfriend kissed your lips deeply, pulling back with a smirk. 

With his thumb, Andy traced your bottom lip, as you looked up at him with a dazed expression and a dreamy smile.

In an airy voice, you responded barely above a whisper, “What was it?”

He moved his thumb to hold your chin gently, “Whipped cream, but I just really wanted to do this.”

Before you could ask “what,” the man kissed you once more, making you almost sigh against his lips.

Unlatching his lips from yours, ever the slightest, the man once again looked into your eyes.

“(y/n) (y/l/n), I think I’m in love with you.”

Still dazed and feeling woozy from his words, you goofily smiled and hugged him tightly.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to say that.”

--I’m sorry if I didn’t hit the head on the nail for your request. I sort of rabbit trailed on that one haha! Hopefully you still enjoyed--

[junie-bugg]

The Heartrender - Chapter Two: Embers

Hey everyone!

Here’s chapter two, in which a truce is struck, crude jokes are made, and we learn more of Peeta’s childhood.

You can read here on Tumblr or here on AO3 (I suggest reading on AO3 because I add a poem at the beginning of each chapter that I feel fits nicely with the story’s themes or the chapter’s plot.)

Big shoutout to my beta reader @nonbinarypeeta​. You da best music💕

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content

Relationship: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, witch!Katniss, witch-hunter!Peeta, AU - Shipwrecked, AU - Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Furs and Fires, Angst and Fluff and Smut, sexually experienced Katniss, virgin Peeta, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Loss of Virginity, Laughter During Sex, Blood and Injury, Imprisonment, Peeta has some prejudices to work out, Peeta also has an accent, Inspired by Six of Crows

Summary:

He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. Not even a little bit.

After a shipwreck has left an abducted witch and a member of the ominous Order bent on wiping out her kind stranded on the icy shores of an uninhabited land, the two must work together to survive or face tearing each other apart in the process.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

ALSO, I made a map! Yes, I am that level of writer nerd. (If you look closely, there’s a little Hunger Game’s reference in there. Let me know if you see it, lmaooo.)

Chapter Two: Embers

His commander had gone into the city for the night, leaving the crew on standby at the docks. Their ship, lovingly named The Bloody Rose, needed tending and Peeta, an exhausted soldier running on three hours of sleep, needed a drink. He longed for a pint of proper ale. Not the bitter swill that the ship’s cook had distilled. 

A chilled autumn wind whistled through the harbor, jostling netted shrouds and furled sails. The white and blue flag of Sjorkden snapped proudly above the crow’s nest where Thomas Jaclin quietly kept watch. There was a muted hush about the night, as if the world were holding its breath in anticipation, knowing something was about to happen. At this point, with his chores done and nothing left for him to do except lose another round of cards or go off to bed, Peeta wished something would. 

He was nursing a cup of moonshine and chatting with his friend, Yasser Pjengo, when they heard the sounds of a scuffle. He and Yasser crossed the deck and looked down onto the dock that the ship was moored to. 

There, struggling to drag someone up the gangplank, was the commander. 

“Commander on deck!” Peeta announced with all the authority he could muster, hoping his voice carried down to the lower levels to rouse the men from their games. Peeta had only recently been promoted to lieutenant, and he was going to prove he deserved it. He felt a rush of pride swell within him when the crew emerged from their sleeping quarters, blinking both the mist of alcohol and the gleam of gambling from their eyes. 

Commander Snow was of medium height with a thick beard and hard blue eyes. Though the hairs at his temples were gray, the way he carried himself was young. He spoke softly but commanded the kind of respect that caused listeners to lean in and catch every word. He now dragged a young girl with him onto the ship. Her red dress was torn and low cut, revealing the hollow between her breasts. A few strands of hair had been pulled from a tar-black braid to hang limply in front of her face. She had a blooming bruise on her jaw and a cut above her eye but otherwise seemed unharmed. 

“Men! Say hello to our newest addition. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s sure to be a feisty one.”

Some of the crew had laughed and hooted, including Peeta, but the girl snarled as she twisted and spat in the commander’s face. In return he sent a heavy punch to her gut, causing her to whimper and double over in pain. 

“I have to warn you all. This here is no ordinary witch. She’s a Heartrender.” 

Peeta sucked in a breath and felt a chill pass through the assembled crew like a breeze passes through dead grass. 

“A Heartrender…” 

“One of her kind cursed my uncle. Turned his feet backward.” 

“I heard they could snap your neck with a flick of a finger.” 

“They don’t just stop hearts. They cut them out and eat them.” 

Peeta had heard of Krellian Heartrenders. The rarest of the witches, Heartrenders could use their magic to manipulate bodies: peel the flesh from bone, collapse lungs, knot intestines, burst eyes in their sockets. He could only imagine what she would unleash upon them if her hands weren’t locked into those metal hand caps. 

Snow cleared his throat to quiet the men. A hush fell over the deck. 

“I see you’ve all heard the stories. If you let her out of those shackles, we’re all dead. I want at least one guard on her at all times.” His eyes shifted to Peeta in the front row. “Mellark, you take the first watch. Gerholt will take over at midnight, then Dawson, then Pjengo. This will be a rotating schedule. You’ll all get a chance with her before this voyage is over.” He twisted her arm, throwing her into the semicircle that Peeta and the crew had formed around them. She collapsed onto her stomach, a wilted heap of red dress and chains. “Now get her out of my sight.” 

Peeta and a few others bent down to lift her up as the commander retired to his quarters, but she swung out her arms to ward them off. 

“Don’t touch me,” she spat in Krellian. 

“Get up and walk or I’ll drag you, witch. Your choice,” Peeta growled. His accent was thick, but he knew by the way her nostrils flared that she’d understood him.

She stayed crouched on the ground, her metal covered hands in her lap. 

Peeta’s anger erupted. 

“Fine,” he snapped. He wrenched her off the floor, threw her over his shoulder, and listened to her screams the entire way down to the brig. 

X

During their slumber, the witch had commandeered his arm. 

She lay sound asleep, his bicep propped under her cheek like a pillow. He only awoke when his hand had gone numb, the blood trapped, circling and pricking within his fingers like a swarm of wasps scrabbling to get out from under his skin. He watched the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the pulse that fluttered at her temple. She looked peaceful. Almost innocent. But he knew what she was really capable of. 

Her head smacked the ground with a dull thud when he took his arm back. 

“Ow!” 

The witch glared at him as he massaged the feeling back into his palm. She made it a point to rub the tender spot on her head dramatically so that he’d feel bad. 

It didn’t work. 

“Get up,” he rumbled. 

The witch turned over and curled in on herself. “Five more minutes.” 

He rose from the nest of furs, grabbing one and wrapping it around his waist to cover his nakedness, then moved to sweep the curtain out of the doorway. From the watery yellow sun high in the sky, he determined it was noon. 

“Get up,” he growled again, injecting more anger into his tone. “We need to keep moving.” 

“Why? We found shelter,” the furry lump on the ground said. 

“If we want to find civilization we’re going to have to move. We need to get home as soon as possible.”

She turned on her side and rested her head in her hand. Her eyes gleamed like freshly polished silver in the light pouring past the curtain. “You’re letting me go home?”

“I meant my home,” he corrected, allowing the curtain to fall and shrouding them in dusk-like darkness once more.

There was a tense moment where both knew the time to act was upon them. Either kill the other or let them live. Both were risks. If Peeta killed the Heartrender, he’d be left to fend for himself. There’d be no magic to keep his blood warm. But if he hesitated and let her live in the hopes that he could return her to Sjorkden and have her tried for witchcraft, there was a chance she’d kill him down the line. It would be so easy to reach out and crush her windpipe, deaden those bright eyes, neutralize the threat. She may have magic but she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Peeta had height, strength, and military training on his side. He was arrogant enough to assume the odds were in his favor.

He thought she was thinking along the same lines because she eyed his muscles warily. He was broad-shouldered and obscenely muscular, the product of a decade doing hard physical training at the academy. She couldn’t crush his heart if he lashed out and stalled her hands first. He may be heavy but he was surprisingly quick. After all, he hadn’t become a witcher for nothing. 

She pursed her lips as if considering something. “I think we’d both sleep better at night if we made a truce.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Your word is as valuable as a campfire is to a fish.”

She scowled slightly, a deep line forming between her furrowed brows. “This isn’t a promise that I’ll never harm you, just as I know you won’t agree to never harm me. You are a witch hunter after all. Bloodshed is your life. But let’s make a pact that until we make it out of this, we help each other.” She paused a beat and looked away as if ashamed. “After that, all bets are off.”

Peeta had nodded, but this truce didn’t mean he trusted her to stick to it. In fact, it made him even more suspicious of her. What kind of demon agreed to the drawing out her own demise? He thought her gamble unwise and surmised she had some angle to play against him. He’d have to be especially careful from here on out.

 They faced away from each other and put their clothes on quietly. She still wore the red dress, the one from The Bloody Rose. It looked looser on her now, but the sleeves were elegant, poufed at the shoulders, and fitted down to the wrists. The skirt was still full, even after she had spent so much time sitting in her cell and thrashing about in the sea. She would have looked ready for a party if the dress wasn’t so dirty and torn. 

 She caught him watching her and winked. “Like what you see?” She twirled and the skirt flared like the petals of a blooming rose, twisting and shimmering in the low light. 

Peeta grunted as he did the last button on his dusky blue jacket. His undershirt was still damp against his skin. “It doesn’t fit you where it counts.” He gestured towards her breasts. 

 She had snorted then, happily surprised he was loosening up. 

They set out with empty hands, only having the clothes on their backs and the furs wrapped around their shoulders. The witch had taken a liking to the black one. She stroked it between her thumb and forefinger like a child would clutch to a blanket for comfort. 

The briny scent of the sea permeated the air and even so high up as they were on the cliffside, Peeta felt the fine spray of the waves collect on his cheeks. The constant rushing of wind blew his hair back and whipped the fur about his shoulders. 

They had been walking for hours when the witch asked, “What do you miss most about home?” 

Peeta wished they could just be quiet. 

“A bed to myself.” 

“Right,” the witch crowed wickedly. “I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me. I felt it pressing into my hip last night.” 

Peeta’s cheeks flushed scarlet. He had never been with a woman. He was a member of the Order: chaste until he earned his talisman and won the right to choose a wife. For his service to the Order he’d be allowed the hand of a nobleman’s daughter. Pretty, young Sjorkden maidens with hair of palest gold and soft, supple bodies. Daughters of the nation raised in the ways of womanly charm and domestic knowledge, basket weaving and child-rearing, dancing and singing and carving. 

He had been dreaming of what his future wife would look like, what their first carnal encounters would entail, the holy honor in producing a child. As a father, a former witcher, and the husband to a woman with status, he would be granted an official seat on the council of Rjaka. His first solid foothold on the ladder of power. It was a lower rung, but it was a start. If only he could get back to his post and fulfill his service, then he would be given his freedom and permitted to marry. 

Those dreams, full of glory, sex, and fatherhood, were the source of his arousal and frustrations, not the witch’s soft skin against his body. Her deep complexion and ebony hair were not of Sjorkden. Her lips were too large, her nose too wide, her body too slender and bony. She looked as if she had spent years scrounging about for meals, with ribs and hips that protruded like sticks in a canvas bag. He liked rounded women with pillowy bosoms, not scrawny little birds. 

Or so he told himself. 

“Why do you say such lewd things?” 

“Because I can. And because I like when you turn red. It does wonders for that pale complexion of yours, valkrӕlla.” 

Valkrӕlla. 

Barbarian.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You like it,” she teased and continued walking, swaying her hips beneath the cloak of fur clasped at her throat and sweeping a glossy curtain of hair over her shoulder. Even here, in the permafrost fields of the tundra, she still smelled of moss and jasmine, as if the misty forests of Krell dwelled within her pores. 

Peeta scowled. He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. 

Not even a little bit. 

X

They walked in the hopes of finding a fishing village, or maybe a trading outpost, somewhere with an inn they could stay at. But as the day dragged on and the sun dipped precariously close to the sea, Peeta started losing hope. The witch stumbled behind him, making her way over embedded boulders and paling tufts of dead brush sticking out from the snowbanks. She squinted against the burning red sunset staining the landscape in bleeding color.

“Maybe we should head back,” she said, though they both knew this wasn’t an option. They were many hours from the whaling camp and turning around now meant they’d just be back at square one, with no food and no fire. 

 Peeta hadn’t been hungry last night, but his adrenaline had burned off, leaving his body weak and watery. He salivated at the thought of rosemary crusted mutton and boiled potatoes, buttered peas in ceramic crockery, honeyed mead, and angel cake with lemon filling. What he wouldn’t give to be back in the vast stone dining hall of the academy, laughing with Yasser through full mouths of meat and drink. After a feast, all the boys would tell stories in large circles or spar each other for prizes. Peeta had been one of the best hand-to-hand fighters among his peers and as such had accumulated a treasure trove of their makeshift awards. The wishbone of a chicken. A fork with a bent prong. A pearl someone had found in an oyster. When he had tired of winning, he would climb the stone steps to his dormitory and sleep dreamlessly on a goose down mattress. He’d wake to the rising sun and Yasser’s deep snores and know that he’d have a day of training ahead of him. Advanced lessons in combat, weapons handling and upkeep, survival skills, sailing, and instruction on foreign languages. He was a well oiled hunting machine, as he was raised to be by the masters. 

 But that was the past, a boyhood he would never return to. Peeta was a man now, and nobody was coming to instruct him. He was on his own. 

 Well, not entirely. He looked back at the witch. Her skin glowed deep bronze in the fading light and her dark hair whipped loosely about her angled face. She caught his eye and winked. 

 No, he thought grimly. I am not alone. 

X

Peeta had only been seasick once. It had been his first time on a ship, sailing from his birthplace to his new home. As the other boys “oohed” and “aahed” at the gray stone towers of the academy rising up from the mists, Peeta had vomited over the banister. 

The others had made fun of him for it. Groups targeted him in the corridors, tripping him or pulling on his hair. Others mocked him, knocked him down hard in training, and then pretended to retch dramatically as he struggled to his feet, fighting to hold back tears. They called him ‘Greenie’, for the color of his skin on that first voyage.

It was better than ‘runt’ but he still resented himself for it, ashamed he had shown weakness. He trained hard after that, alone if he had to. Classes would be over, dinner would be served in the great hall, but the masters would find him in the training rooms practicing his punches on a dummy, or throwing knives, or moving through his stances with a blade. The hours of solitude paid off, and once the students were old enough to compete for rank in the sparring circles, no one came close to Peeta’s brutal technique or raw ferocity. 

And after he broke Geoff Tonson’s leg, no one ever called him ‘Greenie’ again. 

Peeta climbed down into the bowels of the ship, feeling the slight sway of the ocean lapping against the hull as he descended. The Heartrender had been on board for two weeks now and hadn’t earned her sealegs. He shriveled his nose as he came upon her cell. The acrid scent of vomit filled the compartment.

“Time to switch?” Wilhelm asked from his seat in the corner. 

Peeta nodded. He hated guarding the Heartrender. She was in her own cell, isolated from the other witches he and the crew had captured. At least when you guarded the others you could eavesdrop on their conversations. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

Wilhelm Larone, a fresh-faced recruit on his first-ever witcher voyage, rose and stretched languidly. He hadn’t been able to grow a full beard, but his top lip held some promising peach fuzz. “I thought a Heartrender would be more entertaining,” he said, his dark eyes sparkling as a thought occurred to him. “Hey!” He rattled her bars. “Lift up your dress.” 

The witch slumped in the corner, her skin waxy and coated in a film of sweat. Her hair was matted and oily. She blinked slowly at the wall and ignored Wilhelm’s racket. 

He sighed like a disappointed child at the zoo. “I thought the commander said she was feisty.”

“That was before she had vomit on her dress,” Peeta said dryly. 

The witch responded to Peeta’s voice, turning her head slightly to watch him between lanky strands of hair. A chill ran down Peeta’s spine at the intensity of her gaze. They hadn’t spoken since the first night when he had thrown her over his shoulder and dragged her into this very cell, but she remembered him. 

Peeta tore his eyes away. 

Wilhelm had placed his foot on the lowest step, moving to leave when she croaked: “Water.” 

“When was the last time she was fed?” Peeta asked. 

Wilhelm turned, a confused look on his face. “I don’t know. Ask the commander.” 

“At least get her a cup of water before you go to bed. We want to keep her alive for the trial.” 

Wilhelm smiled wickedly. “I have a better idea.” He jumped off the stairs and sauntered over to the Heartrender’s cell once more. “You thirsty, witch? Here, drink up.” 

Peeta watched in horror as Wilhelm unbuttoned his pants and began pissing through her cell bars. Wilhelm’s eyes, which Peeta thought were too far apart in his head, darted up to the older man’s face. “You owe me two gold pieces if I can get it in her mouth.” 

The witch made a strangled sound of disgust and tried to move away, but she was already in the corner. There was nowhere to go and her dress was soon soaked a deeper red. 

“That’s enough,” Peeta said, but Wilhelm’s stream only grew stronger. “I said that’s enough!” he barked and shoved Wilhelm away. 

In his surprise, Wilhelm sprayed the wall. “Damn, Mellark. It's a joke. Dawson’s right. You are no fun.” He shook the last drops of piss from his cock and then stuffed himself back into his pants. He turned to the witch and winked. “Maybe next time you can drink straight from the source. If you promise not to bite of course.” He then fixed his uniform and lumbered up the stairs. Peeta watched him and his half-mustache go. 

“Krą khiăh,” she whispered after the creaking of Wilhelm’s steps faded. 

Thank you.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Peeta snapped. “It was unsanitary, and your kind deserves hellfire, not some quiet death on a ship.”

Peeta spent the remainder of the night sitting on the chair in the corner, breathing in the scents of piss and vomit and misery. He hid his annoyance when the witch started sobbing. 

But the next time he reported for guard duty, he brought her a cup of water.

[queerbutstillhere]

Hiya!! Wow u still doing amazing prompts? How about a soulmate AU for Jondami? Where Kyptonians feel a "click" once they meet their soulmate and that even if they date someone else they can feel as much love that the feel for their mate.

(Hi! Sorry it took this long! I hope you get to see this! And I hope it is good!)

When he was young, his dad explained it to him. Told him how they, as Kryptonian's would often have "soulmates". Said he wasn't sure if Jon would experience this, since he was only half kryptonian, but it was best to just be prepared.

He explained how there was this click. Why everything seemed off and disfunctional, how it felt like everything was just shifted to the left a bit. Why Jon felt odd, like the world was buzzing at such a low decible that he could just barely hear it. And he told Jon that this may stop one day, or he would just stop noticing it.

It was this way because of their soulmates. And once he met his soulmate, things would just click. Everything would be normal and right again. He would feel the shift. So he needed to pay attention if that happened, watch who he had been with. Clark explained that he could still fall in love with people other then his soulmate, Clark had done it so many times before he met Lois, but it would never quite be as perfect as it would be with his soulmate.

Jon took this very seriously, and from that day as a young child, to an eleven year old when he felt it, he paid great attention to all his interactions.

And then he met Robin.

And his world shifted back into focus.

His meeting with Robin hadn't been fantastic, they had tried to kill each other, multiple times. But Jon couldn't ignore the fact that the first time he touched Robin, he physically felt this snap inside him. A Click. In fact it startled him so much that Robin got the upperhand and would have seriously hurt Jon, had Bruce not stepped in right at that moment.

Jon had been shaken up for days after, and refused to tell his parents why. So they chose to believe Robin had done something to their precious child. And they were furious. But he needed to tell someone, and when his older (yet younger?) brother popped in for his monthly visit, he managed to drag Kon outside.

"Hey, kiddo, what's wrong? You're looking a little green. Been exposed to any kryptonite recently?"

Jon shook his head. He did feel a little sick. They were sat on the roof of the barn, staring out over the cow pastures.

"Jon?" Conner asked, joking tone dropped, now just concerned. "Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you need to go to a doctor? I can take you to dad if you don't want Clark and Lois to know?"

"No! I'm not... I'm not sick. And why is Lex a better option then Dad?!"

"He does care what I do? Also I thought you liked Lex."

Jon didn't respond, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Kon, did dad explain the soulmates thing to you?"

"Sure did. Why- oh my God, did you? Who is it?! Did you tell them?!"

"Shh!" Jon hissed, glaring at his brother.

Kon immediately sobered, reaching out to wrap an arm around Jon.

"Who is it, Jon? What's the matter?"

"It's... Robin."

Conner blinked at him a few times in confusion.

"The... The demon spawn? Tim's little brother?"

Jon nodded a couple times, pushing his face into his knees.

"... Wow. Okay. That's. Yikes. Didn't he try to kill you?"

Another nod.

Kon gently rubbed his back. "Well. It's okay, Jon. You don't... You're only eleven, you don't have to do anything about it. Maybe- maybe it's best not to tell anyone else? Clark and Lois might-" Kon cut off with a small sigh.

Jon just groaned and pressed his face harder against his legs.

"It's okay," was Kon's comforting mantra as he hugged his small brother for a moment.

And it was.

In the end, Jon practically forgot about it. He grew up, was Damian's partner, became his best friend, hung out with him all through highschool. He almost forgot about the soulmate thing. Except sometimes he'd notice how much sharper his world was when he was with Damian, or how much happier he was around him.

But he fell in love in highschool, had his heart dramatically broken when his girlfriend cheated on him, even spent a whole evening bemoaning his sad life to Damian as they ate vegan ice cream on the roof of the barn, wrapped in fluffy blankets.

He thought he maybe fell for Damian, his senior year of highschool, but Damian was off, traveling abroad, so it was easy to forget, and then he spent his summer after working and barely saw him. And then Jon was off to college, barely saw any of his friends, let alone his best friend who lived in another country at this point, stopped superheroing, just focused solely on college.

It wasn't until his senior year of college that he realized his world had fallen back into disarray, that things were off again.

It wasn't until senior year that he remembered Damian was his soulmate.

He sent Damian a simple text.

-Hey, next time you're in the states, we should hang out. I know it's been a while, but I'd love to catch up!

Two days later, he got a response.

~Hello! Sorry for not responding sooner. I am currently in Gotham, actually, would you like to meet up this weekend?

Well that was easier than anticipated.

-Yeah! Sure, I can come down there if you want? Does Sunday work?

~Yes. You can come for lunch if you wish. It shall be at noon.

-I'll be there :)

So Sunday Jon showered and flew to Gotham, wearing fairly nice clothes. As nice as it got for a college student with an unpaid internship. Okay so it was pretty nice clothes BECAUSE of his internship. He didn't fly much these days, but it wasn't like he forgot how to. He just headed to Gotham and plopped himself on the front step of the manor, taking a moment to sort himself, straighten out the wildly tangled hair, smooth down his burgandy sweater and fix the cuffs of the button down he had on underneath it. And then he rang the doorbell.

It was only a brief wait, and then the door swung open to reveal one of many black haired blue eyed brothers of Damian's. Jon's memory immediately kicked in and reminded him the buff one with the white streak was Jason.

"Hi, Jason!" He said with a grin.

Jason, who had scruff and bags under his eyes and smelled like cigarettes, grunted.

"Welcome back, kid. It's been a while since you've been around."

Jon smiled and shrugged. "Well, I've been busy with school and all that."

Jason shrugged in return and opened the door, letting Jon in

"Do I still need to take my shoes off?" Jon asked, pointing at the pile by the door.

Jason looked at it, then at Jon. "To save the old man's back, we'll say yes. I don't even know anymore."

Jon raised an eyebrow and took off his dress shoes, following Jason further into the house.

"I think Damian's in the kitchen with Alfie."

"Okay. Thanks Jason!"

"Uh-huh."

Jon headed into the kitchen and did indeed find Damian, sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he helped Alfred cook. He looked up as he heard the door open, and his eyes widened slightly. Jon felt the same thing happen to him. Because man had Damian grown up. Of course Jon had seen his social media and seen this, but it was completely different to see him in real life, just a few feet away. He was wearing a green sweater, and black slacks, black dress socks on his feet. His olive skin was dark, darker then Damian had ever been while living in Gotham. His black hair was short on the sides and back, and still the same long, fluffy top.

"Jonathan, hello!" Alfred said cheerfully, the elderly man smiled at him.

"Hey, Alfred."

Damian seemed to snap out of his daze, glancing down at the food he was stirring then back up to Jon.

"Hello," he said with a smile. He set down his spoon and washed his hands quickly.

"Hi."

Damian stepped closer. "Has it been too long to get a hug?"

Jon chuckled and stepped into him, wrapping his arms around Damian and hugging him tightly. Damian's arms slipped around his waist and returned it, his chin on Jon's shoulder.

And there it was again. The click. The settling of his universe. The reminder that things were okay and good and right.

"It's good to see you," Damian murmured gently, his eyes closed.

Jon hummed gently. "Yeah. It's been a while."

He didn't want to let go. He felt safe hugging Damian. He felt warm and happy.

Damian started to pull back so he let go and watched Damian head back and return to stirring his food.

"So watcha cooking?"

"Sauteing asparagus, lunch is almost ready. Grandfather, could you go get the others and then get them seated in the dining room?"

"Sure, my boy," Alfred said with a smile and then headed out, walking a little slower then Jon last remembered.

Damian watched him leave, eyes full of concern. Jon was too busy reeling in the fact that his ears weren't buzzing anymore and that things didn't feel slightly blurry.

"He's not moving as good as he used too," Damian commented softly, and then shook his head a bit.

"Anyway. How are you? How is college?" Damian asked, smiling.

"College is good. Was good. I'm almost done now. I've got an internship at an architectural firm."

"Oh. Nice. You were going for interior design, right? Or was it architecture?"

"Architecture."

"That makes sense...."

Jon chuckled, looking around the kitchen which was still the same.

"So you finally gave up on the glasses?"

"What? Oh yeah. I don't do a lot of superboy stuff anymore so no one really recognized me as him... I plan to change my uniform and add a mask here soon though."

"That's smart."

"Do you, um? Do you still do vigilante stuff?"

"Oh, in Europe? Some, but you'd be surprised at the lack of supervillains over there. But yes, I do some over there."

Jon nodded. "That makes sense."

"Can you grab that pan for me?" Damian pointed at a casserole dish.

"Sure!"

Jon grabbed it and followed him out to the dining room. The rest of the family was there, getting seated, fussing over Alfred. Jon ended up following Damian back into the kitchen and helped him carry out a few more dishes that all looked expertly cooked and foreign. And then they sat down and ate. Dinner was great, the Wayne family had fun catching up with Jon. And then after, Jon and Damian went for a walk around the Manor, enjoying the nice spring weather.

Jon knew he needed to tell Damian but he didn't know how. They just walked and lightly chatted and caught up. Finally they reached the gardens and Jon reached out grabbed Damian's hand, pulling him to sit on a bench.

"I need to tell you something."

"Okay? What's wrong?" Damian asked, concern filling his face.

Damian showed emotions so much more freely know. Jon had known him for over 10 years now, so this was kinda surprising.

"There's this. . . " He sighed.

Then he stood and started pacing.

"Kryptonian's have this thing. . . They have soulmates," he started explaining, not looking at Damian. "We can feel when we meet our soulmates, it's like this click when we first touch them and-"

"Oh," Damian said. "Interesting. Is there any changes after?"

"After? After the click? Yeah, before, things feel off and for me there's like this buzzing noise. After things just felt more clear and like the world is more focused."

"Interesting."

"Damian. Damian there's a reason I'm telling you this," Jon said, turning to him.

"Why-"

"Because the first time I touched you thirteen years ago, I felt that click."

Damian blinked.

"And when I hugged you again today, I felt the click again."

"Oh," Damian said softly.

"Yeah.... I'm sorry for throwing this on you, but I had to tell you. And we can still fall in love, outside of our soulmate, but things will always feel off."

Damian wasn't responding, just nodding slightly. Jon went silent, crossing his muscular arms and watching him cautiously.

"Well."

Jon sighed. "I'm sorry. Should I go? I should go. I'll let you think about it-"

"Jon, wait!" Damian exclaimed, standing.

Jon had already been flying, so he stopped, blinking.

"Thank you, for telling me. And especially thank you for not telling me earlier, when we were younger. I would not have known how to take it and I undoubtedly would have run away from you."

Jon smiled softly, touching back down to the ground.

"And I'm sorry, for being a horrible friend back then."

"It's okay, Damian. You weren't as bad as you seem to think."

Damian just shook his head slightly. He stepped forwards and hugged Jon again.

"Give me a little time to process this, okay? I'm not going to run away."

"Okay."

Jon smiled to himself as he hugged Damian for a minute, as he felt that warmth and safety.

And then he stepped back. "It was good to see you, Damian."

"You too, Jon."

They waved to each other and then Jon took off up into the air, heading back home.

A few days later he got another text from Damian.

~ I think I'm going to be in the states for a while.

- Yeah? That's cool! I'm sure your family will be happy to hear that.

~ yes. They were.

~ Would you like to get dinner sometime? So we can talk.

- That would be amazing.

~ Thursday?

- Sure, around seven? I can come down there if we push it to 7:30.

~ No, I'll come to you, so seven is fine. Send me your address and I'll pick you up. Dress nicely, business casual.

- Okay, I'll see you then :)

Three weeks later, they were dating.

Send me prompts!

[colbybrocksmolder]

Arizona – Colby Brock x Reader PART 1/3

“Y/n!” Mike yelled into the car’s speaker. His phone was connected via Bluetooth.

“Hey, hey, hey, little brother. You guys actually make it out of LA before noon?” you asked, putting your phone on speaker. You were currently putting away all of the groceries you had purchased for Mike and his friends.

“We’re actually pulling into phoenix right now.” He answered, the rest of the boys in the car cheering. “With traffic, we’re right under an hour away.”

“Wow, and everyone sounds awake.” You laughed. “Are you guys coming straight here or are you going out? If you want, I can have some bomb ass Mexican food waiting for you.”

“Don’t make me drool in the rental.” Aryia said.

“We’ll head straight there.” Mike answered. “Just make sure to make some super white boy shit for Colby. He can’t handle spice.”

“Hey! My momma taught me better than that.” Colby reached forward to smack Mike. “I’ll eat whatever you want to cook for us.” He assured you.

“Oooo the new kid sounds like he has some country manners.” You laughed. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t make all of it spicy.”

“Thank you.” Colby said, Aryia poking and teasing him for his blushy cheeks.

“We’ll see you soon.” Mike said, hanging up the phone.

A few years ago, you’d bought a huge house just outside the city and for the most part, you lived alone. More often than not, someone was crashing at your house, though. It’s how you liked it. Whether it was your friends, family, or your family’s friends…you liked having a place for the people you cared about to escape to. Mike made this trip a few times a year. Sometimes he’d come alone and sometimes he brought a few friends. The last few times he had dragged Kevin and Aryia along, but for the first time in a while he was bringing a new friend.

You heard the car horn in the driveway when Mike and his friends pulled up. You pulled the plates out and got everything set up for them to eat. When the door opened you ran to hug your little brother. “Put me down!” you laughed, Mike letting your feet dangle for a few more seconds.

“I don’t wanna. I missed you.” Mike pouted.

“It smells like heaven in here.” Kevin said, pulling you in for a hug when Mike finally let you go.

“Foods ready.” You said, moving to hug Aryia. “There’s even beer in the fridge.”

“You always spoil us.” Aryia said.

“And you must be Colby.” You said, moving to pull him into a hug.

“I am. It’s very nice to meet you.” Colby said, hugging you back. “And it does smell delicious in here.”

“Same to you! And thanks. Living out here, you get spoiled with good Mexican food.” You laughed, leading the boys back to the kitchen.

“I’m from Kansas.” Colby laughed. “I don’t even know what to look for in authentic Mexican food.”

“So you ARE a country boy.” You said, grabbing Coronas for everyone while they made their plates.

“Guilty as charged.” He chuckled.

“Mike, don’t put that on his plate.” You scolded him. He had put spicy serrano sauce on Colby’s food. “The last time YOU ate that, you cried and jumped in the pool.”

“Oh shit, I forgot about that.” Kevin busted out laughing. “I think I actually have that recorded on my old phone.”

You grabbed Colby’s plate and set it down on the counter, making him a new one with food you knew he’d enjoy. Colby laughed. “I need to see that video.”

“Here.” You handed him the new plate. “Nothing on there should be THAT spicy.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at you, grabbing a beer and heading to the living room where everyone else was sat eating.

After getting everyone settled in their rooms, the guys decided to go out and hit a few clubs. They spent the next two days doing pretty much the same thing. Hanging out at the house, drinking, relaxing, hitting up some clubs and bringing whoever they met back with them. On the third night they showed back up at the house at around 1 am. There were a handful of girls and a few of Mike’s local friends with them. Like usual, you were giving them their space. The boys had tried to drag you into their parties in the past, but you rarely joined them. You had another building in your back yard that you’d turned into an art space. You had all sorts of supplies. You could make jewelry. You could paint or draw. There was even a computer set up. Just your little escape.

You’d left the door and the windows open, letting the night’s breeze blow through. “Whoa” you heard from behind you.

“Hey!” you greeted Colby, turning back to work on the necklace you were making for Mike.

“This place is rad.” He said, walking around and looking at all of the obscure finished pieces and supplies. He had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand.

“I’m glad you like it.” You laughed. “Why aren’t you in there relaxing on your vacation?” you asked, tying the final knot in the necklace.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.” He stumbled towards the door.

“Colby.” You called, smiling over at the tipsy boy. “You aren’t a bother. Come sit.”

He hesitated at the door for a second. “You sure?”

“You’ll learn pretty quickly that I say what I mean.” You stood to hang the newly finished necklace up on a peg and sat back down. “Give me some of that.” You pointed towards the bottle.

Colby nodded, sitting down on the bench next to you and handing you the bottle. “Whiskey?”

“It’s my favorite.” You smiled, taking a decent swig from the bottle and handing it back. “Now are you going to answer my question?”

Colby just sighed.

“Here.” You started sorting through crystal pendants in a small box. “What is your favorite color?”

“hmmm.” Colby took another drink from the bottle. “Blue. And black.”

You grabbed a grey quartz pendant and strung it on a black suede cord. “This blue or this blue?” you asked, grabbing another container of stone beads.

“This kind.” He picked a light smoky blue.

“Perfect.” You said, starting to construct him a necklace of his own. “Now talk. What’s on your mind, country boy.”

He watched you work for a minute, trying to gather his thoughts. “I’m just different.” He sighed. “Mike is hands down one of the best friends I’ve made in LA, but all of them…they just.” He couldn’t find the right word.

“They cope differently than you?” you offered, looking into his soft blue eyes.

“That’s a good way of putting it.” He nodded, setting the bottle down.

You took another swig of whiskey, picking a few black beads to accent the stone ones he had chosen. “I’ve heard you’re quite the party boy yourself, though.”

“Can be.” He nodded, agreeing. “Sometimes it’s better than being alone. Sometimes it’s worse.”

“I feel that.” You agreed.

“They all came down here to hook up with girls and get blackout drunk.” Colby said, looking through a little box of things you had recently made.

“I saw you with that redhead last night. You seemed pretty interested in hooking up with girls and getting blackout drunk too.” You teased.

Colby blushed. “I uh…I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Colby, I wasn’t judging you.” You nudged him with your shoulder. “I was just teasing you.”

“She kind of invited herself to come back with us.” He said, turning to watch you work on his necklace.

“Well, we’re right next to a college town. There’s some wild kids living around here.” You held up two different beads to have him pick.

“I like those ones.” He pointed towards little black stones. “Don’t get me wrong, I do plenty of ‘socializing’” he laughed, using air quotes. “I just usually vibe with the person I’m taking to my bed. I haven’t really felt that with anyone in a while.”

“Well, I live alone for a reason.” You said. “I like people, I like company…Hell you guys are welcome here literally any time you want to come…but I feel you. I haven’t found anyone worth keeping around in a long time.”

“Mike said I’m jaded.” Colby laughed, taking another swig from the bottle.

“Mike just wants to cheer you up.” You smiled over at him. “He doesn’t like when people aren’t having as much fun as he is.”

“That’s true.” He nodded. “Your brother is a good dude. I’m glad he’s finally getting recognition with his music and stuff. He totally deserves it.”

“Well from what I hear, a big reason that is happening is you.” You said.

“Nah, it’s all him.” Colby shook his head.

“That’s not what he thinks.” You argued. “So, if you didn’t come down to the desert to party, what did you want to do down here?”

“Get the fuck out of LA.” He laughed. “A lot of amazing shit has happened for my friend Sam and I, but so many little shitty things have been just picking away at me.”

“Like?” you encouraged him to continue.

He sighed. “Everyone in LA wants to be your ‘friend’” he used the air quotes again, reaching for the bottle of Jack. “But the problem with that is you end up having more acquaintances than friends and if you let one of them in you take the risk of them completely fucking you over.”

“I could see that.” You agreed.

“Some people that I would have just sworn on anything that they’d be good people proved me wrong in the worst possible ways.” He sat, watching you work on the necklace. “Like, I had a friend…” he laughed, shaking his head and taking a swig from the bottle. “I shouldn’t use the word friend. I had someone spend two whole years telling me they appreciated me and that I was one of the only people in LA not to fuck them over…and the second they got a girlfriend they just switched. They started telling people things that I had told them in confidence. Shit that he knew I didn’t trust anyone with. His girl went and started talking shit about our whole friend group. Causing drama and treating fans poorly. And because we have a lot of the same fans, I can’t just call him out, you know? I can’t make a rant video telling people what a backstabber he is because then I look like the shitty person. I don’t even WANT to be the kind of person that throws him under the bus, I just wish he didn’t end up being a dick.” Colby sighed, letting his head fall back. “I just…I rarely get what I give. And it gets fucking old.”

“I can see why you and my brother get along so well.” You said, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig. “We’ve both been there. I think it’s just a little stickier for you because you have so many people watching you. If I want to tell someone to fuck off, I don’t have to worry that it’s going to be recorded or turned into a drama series on someone else’s channel.” You laughed. “And that isn’t really fair.”

“I don’t want to give up on people. It takes a lot for me to cut people out.” Colby said, leaning his head on your shoulder. “My mom keeps telling me not to entertain fools. I wish it was that simple.”

“I can already tell I’d love your mom.” You laughed. “First, that’s great advice and second, she’s raised a great son.” You messed up his hair with one of your hands. “But I agree. Nothing is ever that black and white.”

“Holy shit.” He said, lifting his head and looking down at his finished necklace. “That’s amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it.” You laughed. “Here” you slipped it over his head.

“Wait, this is mine?” he asked, turning the crystal in his hands.

“Duh.” You said, adjusting the length to fit him better. “I think it suits you.”

“Dude, how much do I owe you?” he asked, still in awe that you had just thrown it together.

“You don’t owe me anything.” You said. “Just try to get out of your head and have fun while you’re down here.”

He looked over at you with a soft expression. “Thank you.” He leaned in and gently kissed your cheek.

“No problem.” You smiled. “Let’s go inside.”

“You’re finally going to join the frat boy shenanigans happening in your house?” he gave you a smirk.

“That depends. How’s your beer pong game?” you laughed.

“I already spanked your brother and Aryia like 4 times.” He bragged, grabbing the bottle and standing up.

“Then I vote we aim for a 5th. Maybe even a 6th.” You stood, turning off the studio lights and heading inside.

“Y/N!” Aryia cheered, stumbling into Mike.

“You guys really aimed for ‘white girl wasted’ this trip, didn’t you?” you laughed, reaching for a Corona and sitting on the counter next to Aryia.

Mike walked up to Colby. “I wondered where you disappeared to.” He said, playing with the necklace that hung against Colby’s chest.

Colby blushed. “Is that a problem?” he shyly asked.

Mike shook his head. “I’m keeping an eye on you, though.” He laughed, walking back over to Kevin and a group of girls.

Aryia was telling you some wild story about a girl that tried to get naked in their Uber earlier when you turned and saw a girl hanging all over Colby. When she went to touch his necklace, he snatched it into his hand first. “I’ll be back.” He said to her, hurrying away and walking towards you and Aryia.

“You looked scared of that tiny drunk college girl.” You laughed, watching him take another swig of Jack and hop up on the counter next to you.

“She said she always wanted to sleep with a youtuber and then asked to wear this.” He adjusted the pendant to lay back against his chest.

“Oooo, big party fail. She’s probably too drunk to realize how trashy that sounded.” You laughed.

“Nope.” Aryia laughed. “She said the same thing to Kevin earlier and she was completely sober.”

The three of you started laughing, beer dribbling out your nose as you had just taken a drink. You started fanning your face, laughing even harder. “Paper towel!” you yelled.

Colby reached behind him grabbing the roll. “Here.” He laughed, ripping a few paper towels off and handing them to you.

“Thanks.” You tried to clean the beer out of your nose and off of your face.

“Mike!” Colby yelled. “Wanna see if your sister and I can beat you and Aryia at beer pong?” he asked, lifting his hands to challenge them.

“No fair! She hasn’t been drinking!” Mike whined.

“She’s had about half of this.” He said, raising the bottle of Jack.

“Wooooow, you trying to get my sister drunk?” Mike teased him, shooting him a fake glare.

You grabbed it out of Colby’s hand and took another swig. “You afraid, baby brother?” you asked, hopping off the counter and handing the bottle back to him.

“You kick my ass every time.” Mike laughed, moving to set up another game of beer pong.

Watching Colby relax and laugh while you absolutely destroyed the other two boys in beer pong made you happy you decided to join the party. “That’s three games in a row.” You teased them, turning to high-five Colby.

He threw his arm around your shoulders, giving Mike and Aryia a smug look. “You guys want to go another round?”

One of the girls that had been watching rolled their eyes. “You should let someone else play.”

“Grab a partner.” You said. “I bet you guys will beat them too.”

“I want to be on Colby’s team!” she quickly replied, trying to squeeze between you two.

“Nah, I’ve already got my partner.” He said, pulling you back from the table with him.

She rolled her eyes again. “I don’t know why you’re hanging all over THAT bitch.” She said under her breath.

“What?” Colby asked, knowing exactly what she had said.

“Colby!” Mike called, shaking his head no. Mike knew you could handle yourself.

“But she just…” he started, stopping when he felt you step away from him.

“Sweetie, listen here.” You said, staring the girl in the eyes with a smile on your face. “First, women being shitty to other women because they’re jealous of them is ugly. It’s not a good look. And honestly, it just lets the skeezy men that find it attractive off easy because they get to pick which disparate girl they want so they can hit it and quit it. You deserve better than the attention you’re attracting.” The girl’s face had gone ghost white. “SECOND, this is my fucking house. Everyone gets two chances. You just lost one. I suggest you grab a beer, find a friend, and have a good time because if your intentions were anything other than having a good time, I can order you an Uber.”

She had dropped her head and was staring at her feet. “I’m sorry.” She mumbled.

“Thank you.” You replied. “Now would you like to help me kick my brother’s ass in beer pong?”

Her eyes shot up to yours. “Really?” she asked with a skeptical look on her face. “You aren’t mad?”

“Oh, honey. You really are new around here.” You laughed, handing her a ping pong ball.

When you had spanked Mike and Aryia in beer pong for the 4th time, you left the girl and Kevin to play the next round. You walked back into the kitchen to grab a cold Corona from the fridge. “That was impressive” you heard behind you.

Colby had hopped back up on the counter, bottle of Jack still in his hand. “Making that sorority girl nearly piss herself or single handedly winning that round of beer pong?” you laughed.

“Well, both.” He chuckled, dropping down to stand in front of you. “But mostly the part where you turned that girl’s night around.” He pointed over at her. She was laughing, trying to chug the cup of beer Mike had just landed a ping pong ball in. Kevin was cheering her on. “She’s been a bitch all night and now look at her.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of the beer you had just opened. “I have my ways.”

“I saw that.” He moved a bit closer to you. “I really want to kiss you.” He said, smiling down at you.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“Yeah.” He stood there, refusing to make the first move.

“Well, you’ve got some choices to make, Kansas. Some things to consider.” You put on a pondering expression. “I live about 5 hours away from you, I’m quite a bit older than you, I’m stubborn, and my brother is currently staring at us.”

Colby tilted his head back and forth like he was considering everything you had said. “Yeah, it’s worth it.” He said, catching you off guard by smashing his lips against yours.

“Cooooooolllllbyyyyyyyyyyyy” Mike growled, trying to squeeze through the crowd that was watching them play beer pong.

“I’d run.” You laughed, pushing him away from you.

“SHIT!” He yelled, running around the kitchen island trying to dodge Mike.

“I told you I’d be watching you.” Mike said, not actually angry. This was more the ‘I’m a protective brother and I’ll beat anyone’s ass who messes with my sister’ formality.

“I know. And I’m probably going to get my ass kicked.” Colby squealed, running into the dining room when Mike lunged over the island. “But it was worth it.”

They were stood on either side of the table. “You sure about that?” Mike asked, moving to run around the table.

“YES!” Colby yelled, running out the back door of the house and around the pool, kicking his shoes off and chucking his phone in the grass knowing he’d eventually end up in the water.

You were laughing your ass off the whole time, Aryia and Kevin following them with you. “Why is Mike chasing Colby?” Aryia asked, not having witnessed it like Mike and Kevin.

“Colby kissed me.” You laughed, watching Mike tackle Colby into the pool.

“WHAT?!” Aryia practically shrieked.

“Mike said you two would hit it off.” Kevin laughed, taking another drink of whatever was in his cup.

“Really?” you gave him a weird look.

“Yup. He told me that before he even invited Colby.” He nodded at you.

“Don’t drown the boy!” you called out, seeing Mike pull Colby back under the water.

“Save me!” Colby laughed, reaching out for you.

Aryia took this opportunity to push you into the pool with the two boys. “Oh, you’re dead when I get out.” You threatened when you surfaced. “Mike!” you yelled, laughing.

Colby swam to hide behind you, his arms circling your waist. Mike was looking back and forth, staring at the both of you. “I don’t know if I like this.”

“Mike.” You laughed, swimming to hug your brother. “There’s not even a ‘this’ not to like.”

“He kissed you!” Mike chuckled.

“And? You’ve banged like 6 girls in my spare bedroom this year alone.” You laughed, kissing his cheek and swimming back to Colby.

“I’ll still kick your ass if you do anything stupid.” Mike pointed at Colby.

“Dude, your sister is way scarier than you are.” He laughed.

“Hey!” you smacked him.

“You may have chosen to be nice to that girl earlier, but you looked like you could have destroyed her.” He laughed, pulling you against him.

“My jeans are making it hard to swim.” You laughed, reaching for the edge of the pool to pull yourself out.

“Don’t leave me!” Colby pulled you back to him. “Oh, shit! I got this wet!” he said, pulling his necklace off.

“It’s fine.” You laughed, grabbing it from him. “It won’t ruin it. Kevin!” you called, handing the necklace to him when he walked to the pool’s edge. “Can you sit this on the table in there.” You pointed towards your art studio. You realized quite a few people had joined you in the pool. “I should go change into my suit.”

“Nah.” Colby smirked, his hands moving to unbutton your jeans.

“Wow, what happened to your country manners.” You laughed, batting his hands away and slipping your sopping wet jeans off.

“Jack Daniels happened.” He laughed, pulling his own shirt off and throwing it on the ground outside the pool.

“I’ll have to thank Mr. Daniels one of these days.” You quipped, pulling your own shirt off to join Colby’s.

Colby pulled you into a much softer kiss than your first one. “Do you come up to LA much?” he asked, as your hands were unbuttoning his own jeans.

“On occasion.” You smiled against his lips. “You’re gonna sink if you don’t ditch the denim.”

“I’m sure.” Colby said sarcastically. “That’s totally why I should take my pants off. It doesn’t have anything to do with you wanting to get me naked. Not at all.”

“What if it does?” you asked with a straight face, seeing Colby glance over at Mike while he stripped out of his black skinny jeans.

“I’d ask you if there was a lock on your bedroom door because I’m pretty sure Mike is going to try to suffocate me in my sleep.” Colby answered, looking back at you with wide eyes.

“He won’t.” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And yes, there’s a lock on my door.”

“Mike said he’s coming back down here for a family thing in like a month.” Colby said, trying not to look directly into your eyes.

“You should definitely tag along.” You said, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“Yeah?” he asked, a bit breathless.

“definitely.” You smiled into the kiss.

When the boys were all packed up and getting ready to head back to California, you made sure to pack them a bag of snacks and force a few water bottles into their hands. “Drive safe, please?” you asked, Mike picking you up and spinning you around in another hug.

“We always do.” He answered, kissing your forehead. He looked over at the group of boys standing by the SUV. “You know, I really hope that works out.”

“What works out?” you asked.

“You and Colby.” He smiled. “I had a hunch you two would be good together.”

“Well, thank you for introducing us, then.” You laughed. “And yeah. I hope it works out too.”

“COLBY!” Mike called. “Don’t leave a girl hangin’.”

You shoved him, waiting for Colby to come say bye. “Don’t look so sad, Kansas.” You said, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“But I am sad.” He sighed, resting his forehead against yours.

“You can visit anytime you want.” You said, kissing him. “And I’ll come visit you guys before your next trip down, so it’s only going to be like two weeks before I see you again.”

“Really?!” he said, pulling you into a slightly rougher kiss. “Thank God.”

“Aww, it’s like you’re gonna miss me or something.” You teased, grabbing his hand and walking with him towards the other boys. “Between this one thinking my boring ass is cute” you said lifting your joined hands, “and Aryia barely coming up for air with that Charlotte girl all week…I think you guys are going to have to come down here a bit more often.”

“I agree.” Mike said, tossing the keys in the air and catching them. “Alright. We’ve have to head out.” He said, walking towards the driver side door.

“It’s always good to see you.” Kevin pulled you into a hug.

“You too.” You smiled, kissing his cheek.

“Charlotte lives in a dorm, so I may be crashing on your couch a lot.” Aryia laughed, pulling you into a hug.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, dork. There’s like 4 bedrooms you can claim.” You laughed, kissing his cheek as well.

“I’ll call you when we get there safe. Mike said he always forgets to.” Colby said, leaning down to kiss you one last time.

“Thanks.” You smiled up at him, fiddling with the necklace that was back around his neck. “I’ll see you soon, Kansas.” You said, turning to walk towards your front door.

PART 2

[hillbillyhippiemusicreview]

Post #63, MarDe Brooks--Running Out of Time

Reviewed by Lyssa Culbertson

“Way back on the radio dial The fire got lit inside a bright-eyed child Every note just wrapped around his soul From steel guitars, to Memphis, all the way to rock and roll” -Eli Young Band

Every time I hear “Even If It Breaks Your Heart” by the Eli Young Band pass through my playlist, my mind cannot help but wander to the trajectory HHMR alum MarDe Brooks has had over the past couple of years. It is impressive what an ample amount of hard work, determination, faith, and if we are honest, an iota of craziness will manifest when it comes to chasing dreams. If you are unfamiliar with MarDe’s story, let me fill you in:

The Alabama born and bred singer-songwriter recently released his debut album, Running Out of Time, after a lifetime of desire to share his musical gifts with the world. Perhaps the album title is a nod to the notion of growing older and time slipping away, leaving you with no choice but to shelve your dreams or take a chance and live them with all you’ve got—but MarDe need not worry. With the impeccable artistry he possesses and a knack for heartfelt, honest songwriting, we’ll be hearing more out of him for years to come. With an practically permanent smile as wide as the Rio Grande and an electric energy radiating from him every time he steps on stage, he possesses an often unmatched zeal for his work that will surely keep him on everyone’s radar. His sound is as eclectic as he is, and that is the utmost compliment in my book. As I said in the review of his first single, “Memories,” MarDe cannot be caged by a genre, for this powerhouse of a songbird sings to the tune of whatever is in his heart—whether that’s a slow sentimental ballad about life on the road, or a rockin’ up-tempo song about love gone wrong. Running Out of Time has something to love for everyone, but odds are you’ll love it from the beginning of the “Memories” you’ll make whilst listening, to the last “Curtain Call.” Answering the desires of his soul to create his own original music, the collection of ten songs were written and composed in just under a year, and within the next year the record was recorded and MarDe hit the highway sharing his stories with anyone who would listen. On September 11, 2020, he added fuel to the fire that got lit inside the bright-eyed child of his youth when he debuted his first album to the world.

When listening to this record both as a whole and dissecting each individual song, it’s quite easy to hear the various musical influences that have helped shape MarDe into the artist he is. However, he infuses those notes of blues, old time rock-and-roll, country, southern rock, folk, and more into sound all his own. The first track on the record, “Memories,” incorporates all of these styles in a up-beat tune set against a bit of a dark subject matter. A failed relationship takes its toll and leads to self-destruction, but if you only listen to the melody, you wouldn’t have a clue. I love how MarDe plays a lyrical and musical trick on the listener’s ear on this one, and it was a solid first choice for a single release, as it showcases both his songwriting ability and musicality. Heading to the opposite end of the romantic spectrum, the next track, “Slow Time,” is a beautiful ballad that will transport you back to a time to when life ran at a slower pace, perhaps on the riverbank next to a loved one watching the summer clouds roll in, where nothing but the love you were in mattered. Speaking of rolling in, “I’ve Got Memphis” is one of the standouts on the record, as it details the feelings of a traveling musician counting the miles wearing on both the road and his soul. As a music lover with a heavy dose of Gypsy in my soul, when MarDe sings “Oklahoma calls out to me, and I miss that Kentucky high, I’d love to stay in Alabama, but I’ve got Memphis tomorrow night,” it resonates with me on a spiritual level. I love the sound of four wheels spinning down an open highway, but occasionally every mile marker makes me weary and I just want to be home, though there’s always another show down the road and work to be done. It’s a sentimental tune about the highs and lows of this life and is just so powerful. Track number four, “Down the Road,” happens to be one of my favorites off the record—it’s a total jam with an infectious groove that just won’t let go, much like how he bemuses the difficulty of letting go of his beloved and moving on in the tune. The way he once again juxtaposes an upbeat melody with a somewhat somber subject matter intrigued me from the first verse of the song, and I was hooked. We’ve all been there—in love with someone that it kills us to let go of, though we know we’re better off leaving them in our rearview. I admire how MarDe can write about real life situations with such clarity and cleverness.

As evidenced by the previous tracks mentioned, MarDe has such a versatile voice where one moment he can have you high on life singing along and the next morose and feeling every bit of heartache his vocals are seeped with on a song like “Home,” one of the most compelling works on the album. The imagery is quite vivid, as you can easily picture the man in the song with his “hands on the sink, face down to the floor” ruminating over his life. As I’ve listened to this song, it dawned on me that the character in the song was not simply speaking to a lost lover, but to the man in the mirror as well, because all too often we can break our own hearts by our choices with the aid of the demons we face. For many, alcohol can be one of those demons; however, as shown by MarDe’s joyful vibes in “Fifth by Noon,” sometimes it can be just the cure a man needs to patch up a broken heart. This tune is my favorite to see performed live because of the energy MarDe harnesses as he brings the song to life. A little ditty about the healing powers found in a fifth of your favorite whisky and good friends, the line “everything will be alright if I down a fifth by noon” has the possibility to become an adage for centuries to come. Likely not the wisest piece of advice, but one most can certainly empathize with if we’re honest. When he sings “I used to lay you down like Conway at night, but now you’re out there girl and you’re making different music tonight, so here’s an idea, why don’t you stay, yeah that’s where you made you made your bed and that’s where you can lay” it’s loud and clear how he feels about the woman in question—and I’m absolutely here for it. Such a killer, feisty verse that makes me cackle as I belt it out every time! The guitar solo prefacing the semi-acapella portion of the song backed by a chorus of voices and a drumline are my favorite parts of the song because it drives the point home and is so fun to jam out to.

Reflecting back on the record to this point, it’s easy to see the thematic presence of sorrow woven throughout the lyrics. Despite the best efforts we tend to put into anything in life, what we deserve is not always what the universe sends our way. Track number seven, “Earned,” is a prime lyrical example of that fact, especially in relation to futile relationships we may feel that we got the short end of the stick in, so to speak, because “even if you do things the right way, you don’t always get what is earned.” A heart is a fragile thing, and love is even more delicate, as heard in “On My Way.” MarDe croons “rules are made to be broken, but hearts aren’t the same, so many words left unspoken, could have silenced the pain” to a lover he’s leaving behind—and that is such a poignant line about the importance of communication. Quite frequently, it’s the words we do not say that could salvage important connections or bring closure to difficult goodbyes. His voice is soft and melodic on this tune, highlighting every bit of emotion involved, notably when he sings in the bridge “I couldn’t see through the flames when I promised my life, but all that smoke cleared just in time.” Every time I hear that particular lyric a single tear escapes my eye because I’ve lived that line and the emotions connected are just so painful—It hurts so good.

Although words sometimes possess the power to save relationships, they also have the power to destroy them. In the case of “Liar,” MarDe appears to be addressing a friend or mentor, rather than a past lover. “Your lies won’t let you tell the truth, you looked down on me, I looked up to you, you dig your hole try to pull me in the ground, you had your chance but it’s all over now”—WOW. In spite of the rather calm melody, the anger and disappointment boils over in every verse of this good riddance themed song, as he’s “on [his] way to the top now, and you can’t slow [him] down.” I often lightheartedly—but seriously—joke that people should not do wrong by a songwriter, because a song will inevitably be written about the offense, and “Liar” is a prime example of that, tying into the seemingly autobiographical journey MarDe details in the final song on the record, aptly titled “Curtain Call.” It’s a beautiful summation of his ride from the aforementioned bright-eyed dreamer of his youth to the man he is now, steadily achieving lifelong goals—while the highs and lows ebbed and flowed and it wasn’t always easy, the journey was without a doubt worth it, as evidenced by the quality and ultimate success of his first release.

MarDe either wrote or co-wrote every song on Running Out of Time and rounded up a group of gifted musicians to record the album at Rose City Recording in Charleston, WV with producer Greg McGowan. With a heavy dose of the keys, the lead/rhythm guitar, mandolin, violin, bass, drums, and pedal steel played by (in no particular order) musicians Jerimiah Hatfield, Joey Lafferty, Mark Cline Bates, Jeremy “Wood” Roberts, Eric Robbins, David McGuire, Molly Lynn Page, Travis Egnor, and MarDe himself, this record is a unique work of art, reflective of the array of musical styles that encompass the artist MarDe Brooks is. The support from background vocalists Ritch Henderson, Eric Robbins, Jerimiah Hatfield, and Mark Cline Bates adds a spark to each track they are featured on. My only critique of the record is that you cannot truly hear the extent of the passion and range MarDe possesses behind his vocals, as that essence can only be captured live—which is why you must catch him a live show, soon! You can find tour dates, merch, and other important info at www.mardebrooks.com, or you can follow him on Facebook at MarDe Brooks and on Instagram at @mardebrooksmusic.

Peace, love, & music,

Lyssa

————————

*This is an independent review. The Hillbilly Hippie Music Review was not compensated for this review.

*The opinions expressed are solely that of the author(s).

*These images are not ours, nor do we claim them in any way. They are copyrighted by MarDe Brooks & Jimbo Valentine of Amalgam United.

[featheredwyrm]

My Muse...is into fanfic...

So, I was trying to do NaNoWriMo last month, and it failed horribly until halfway through I started playing Overwatch again and I was introduced to the new tank, Sigma. Well, like most of my Special Interests, I started doing research on wikis and wading through fan art and all sorts, and a story came to mind that I started writing down that became my 1/5 attempt to NaNo. I didn’t make it, didn’t expect to, but my muse had returned...

And it had me writing fanfic.

This particular fanfic has Siebren having a family, and the POV centers around either him or his granddaughter. I’ll leave one of my more recent scenes if any other in the Tumblrverse is interested. If I generate some interest, I might post more, but as it is horribly fragmented at the moment, it’ll be a slow process.

Apologies for not putting under cut. I only have access to mobile right now.

They walked along, enjoying each other’s company, a few precious moments away from their four-year-old son, Ravi. One of Selene’s coworkers had been gracious enough to take him for the night so they could have an actual “date night”, something they hadn’t had since he was born. Their breath came out in great puffs from the cold, but neither cared. The gardens at Christmas had always been special for them: the first true off-campus date they had, then Siebren walking in freezing temps with a frozen knee from asking for her hand in marriage, culminating in their wedding at noon on Christmas Day.

Street musicians serenaded, children giggled and yelled and ran, chasing the snowflakes that had begun to fall again.

The young couple purchased a cup of cocoa each before walking over to an empty bench, Siebren brushing the seat clean with his scarf, folding it and placing it down on the wood so Selene could sit. She sat, and when he did, she leaned over and kissed his lips. They sat and people-watched until Selene wrapped her arms around one of his and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“Are you happy?” she asked, voice hardly loud enough to hear over the noise, but she knew he heard her; he always heard her, even if he wasn’t fully paying attention to what she said.

“Happier than you can imagine. They couldn’t put words or notes to express, nor equations to quantify how happy I am. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing big, really. I was just asking.”

He nodded, kissed the top of her head, and took a sip of cocoa before returning to people-watching, chuckling as children attempted to play fetch with their dog, the poor thing losing the snow “ball” in the piles on either side of the sidewalk.

“How many stars are in a binary system again?”

“Two,” he replied matter-of-factly. “Bi means two. Surely you learned that in elementary school.”

“I did.”

A return to sipping and sightseeing, broken again by Selene.

“I was wondering if you were able to get days off from your lab and your teaching assignments yet.”

Siebren adjusted his position so he faced his wife entirely. “I’ve had days off available since I started. Are you attempting to hint at something that I’m clearly missing?”

She laughed. “As badly as that poor dog is missing that the ball they’re throwing is made of the same stuff he’s crunching through.” She kissed him, lips soft, the feeling briefly warming their chilled skin. “Do you think Ravi would like a little brother or sister?”

“Oh, I suppose not at first, but I’m sure it’ll…” he stared at her blankly, realization filling his eyes, a nervous laugh escaping. “Are you? Really?”

“The campus doctor confirmed it at lunchtime. Don’t be mad at me for waiting this long to tell you.”

“Mad? As a hatter! Positively delirious!” He pulled her close and kissed her, a long, lingering kiss. “That’s wonderful news! Two!” He jumped to standing, climbing up onto the bench, arms stretched wide. “I’m going to be a father! Again!”

Many shouts of “congratulations!” and various blessings came from everyone around them, Siebren bouncing off of the bench, wrapping his arms around Selene, pulling her up with him and twirled around. “Another son!”

“Or daughter,” she proposed as he set her back down.

“Or daughter,” he conceded. “Do they have a due date yet?”

“Siebren! I just got it confirmed! I haven’t been to the OB/GYN yet!”

“I’m sorry.” He simply stared at her, grinning from ear to ear.

They sat there, discussing various things, from names to colors to if they should have the new baby share a room with Ravi when they were older, before the cold finally won and they started walking to the car.

Explosions rocked the air, shattering the streetlights above. Siebren quickly threw himself over Selene, brushing glass shards out of her hair as they stood. He told her to stay put while he walked out to the street, seemingly the epicenter of the chaos.

A second explosion sent the crowd rushing back into the park, he trying and failing to move any further towards the street. He used his height to his advantage, catching glimpses of moving machinery marching closer.

Omnics.

He had heard on the news that several cities had been attacked by the “sentient” machines, casualties numbering in the hundreds before that battle was silenced, only to have another one break out a country away. But that would never happen here…

Until now.

He turned back to the park, trying to force his way back to where he had left her. “Selene!” He spun around. Had he gotten pushed off course by the stampede of frightened citizens?

“Siebren!”

Behind him. He spun on his heels and forded through the throng, stooping to help up a child and hand her to her hysterical mother—

Automatic fire. Machine guns.

He dropped to an awkward crouch as the chaos swelled, his forward progress agonizingly slow.

“Selene!”

No answer.

Or was there, her voice simply lost in the discord, his exceptional hearing unable to filter out anything in the din of shrieks and gunfire?

“Selene!” he tried again.

Still nothing.

The crowd thinned enough to where he could see the bench they had just been sitting at, a shadow on the ground not far away. He ran forward, foot catching on a discarded backpack, he scrambled forward on all fours, fingers numb when he finally reached her. “Selene!” He pulled off a soaked emerald glove with his teeth, checked her over, hand coming back covered in crimson. “Selene, stay with me!”

“I was thinking of something maritime based this time for names,” she stated, unaware of her wounds.

“No, that’s good, that’s good. What were you thinking, exactly?” His eyes searched in vain for someone in uniform. They were too far away from the street, no one would reach them in time.

“I was thinking…maybe a split room. At first. Then give them…space…” Her breath came in labored gulps, growing more shallow by the moment.

He used his gloved hand to try and push away the tears in his eyes, to keep them from freezing his eyes shut. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Selene. But I need you to stay here. I need you with me.”

Flashing lights. Sirens.

“Over here!” he bellowed. “Help! She’s been shot! Help me!”

“Siebren?”

He looked down at her, beautiful blue eyes somehow closer to gray. “Yes, Selene?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I love you more than the stars in the sky. Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere…” she said with a smile. Her chest rose and fell one last time.

“Selene!” He shook her. “Selene!” He rested his forehead against hers.

The light in her eyes…it was gone.

He stayed knelt over her, believing that his own failing body heat would inspire hers to return. His head slid off of hers into the snow, he finishing the motion, coming to rest in the snow beside her. He wrapped his arms around her body and pulled her close.

There.

Together in the snow. How he had always suspected it would be. Together.

Ravi.

For his son. He had to.

He pushed himself to sitting as boots crunched through the snow towards them.

“Stardust to stardust…”

[sofreakinmanyfandoms]

November 3 - In Which the Worst Day Is Made Better

And thus I have finished the third one-shot. This is fun!

Word count: 1874

Warnings: Breakups, bad day, mentions of torture

Pairing: Comics!Clint Barton X Reader feat. Lucky the Pizza Dog

Clint awoke to the sound of incessant pounding thanks to forgetting to remove his hearing aids when he finally crashed late last night/early that morning. Groaning, he rolled over and right off the couch. That would leave a mark. He stumbled to his feet and made his way through the disaster that was his apartment towards the door.

“Where’s Lucky? I need to pet him.”

You didn’t bother greeting Clint when he opened the door; you merely brushed past him and began to search the place for his dog. Lucky for his part didn’t leave you waiting. He happily poked his head out of the bedroom and wagged his way over to you.

With a sigh, you collapsed to the floor and wrapped your arms around the dog. Clint studied you from above and behind.

“Rough night last night?”

You grunted into Lucky’s neck. “Rough twenty-four hours. I haven’t slept in over thirty-six.”

He let out a low whistle. “You need sleep.”

“No shit.” You sighed again and ran your hands through the fur around Lucky’s ears, giving him a good scratch. “I need to get some stuff out of my head before I try, though. Not gonna last long otherwise.”

Clint made his way into the kitchen and woefully studied the empty bag that used to contain coffee grounds. “Well, take me out for coffee and we can talk about it.”

“Thinking about it isn’t going to get it out of my head.”

“I didn’t say to think about it,” Clint said, searching through various piles of laundry for a semi-clean shirt. “I said talk about it. Speak words. Let the words leave your mouth. Literally let it out of your head. Bottling it up and trying to forget doesn’t work. You’ve gotta let it out into the world before you can get over it.”

“If you took your own advice, you’d be a hell of a lot more mentally stable.”

“Probably, but I’m a disaster anyways, so who cares?” He finally found one that didn’t smell too bad and pulled it on. “Now coffee. Your treat.”

You reluctantly stopped patted Lucky on the head one last time and followed Clint to the door. “Why is it always my treat?”

“Because you have money.”

���Touché.”

----------

Clint happily slurped from his venti extra-shot pumpkin spice latte as you settled into the outdoor table, Lucky at your feet.

“So,” he said after chugging what had to be at least half of his coffee, “start at the beginning. You said it was a rough twenty-four hours, yet you haven’t slept for thirty-six?”

You nodded. “I had an early-morning mission yesterday, so I went to bed early instead of staying up straight through and woke up just before midnight. Mission went smoothly, or so I thought, and by noon I was on my way to meet my boyfriend for lunch.”

“That’s right,” Clint cut in, “you’ve been seeing what’s-his-face. Since that brings us to the start of the last twenty-four hours, I take it your date didn’t go so well?”

“It didn’t go at all,” you grumbled. “Turns out Hydra tagged me with some new tracking spray during the mission.” You gestured to a slim unit clipped to your belt. “Steve’s making me wear a signal disruptor until Helen Cho can get here to replace the skin it’s on. Apparently it doesn’t wash off.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. So I’m minding my own business, off the clock and on my way to my date, when Hydra decides to grab me. Knocked me out before I could escape and I woke up a couple hours later in some dirty old warehouse.”

“Wait a minute.” Clint narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said you haven’t slept in thirty-six hours. But you were unconscious for two?”

You shook your head. “I don’t wanna know what it says about your sleep habits that you consider being knocked out equivalent to getting actual sleep.”

He pouted and stole the rest of your coffee, lobbing his empty cup into a nearby trash can. “If you’re gonna pick on me, I can take Lucky and go.”

“You could, but then you’d have to buy your own coffee when you need more.”

“Fine. Getting knocked out doesn’t count as sleep. Continue.”

“So this big tough guy comes in, starts demanding information on my team. Turns out he wasn’t referring to the KC Royals.”

Clint choked on your coffee. Lucky whined as he worked through the coughing fit, but he grinned once he got himself under control.

“That’s my girl.”

“I learned from the best.” You tossed your hair and grinned back. “Naturally, tough guy decided to make his point physically –”

“That explains the black and blue you’re sporting all over your face.”

“And this.” You pulled up the edge of your shirt to show the bandages Bruce had wrapped around your broken ribs. “Although I can’t imagine who wouldn’t be interested in everything there is to know about Alex Gordon. He’s from Nebraska.”

The eye roll Clint shot you had you smirking back.

“No wonder he worked you over so well. You do realize that even I know you should eventually just shut up, right?”

“How else was he going to learn how many players the Royals have that were born in other countries and where they’re from?”

“This is also why Steve won’t talk baseball with you.”

“Steve’s team just lost the world series. Mine’s won more recently than his has. He can shove it.”

“I’m amazed you’re still alive.”

“Look who’s talking. You have both coffee and what I’m hoping is ketchup but knowing you is probably blood on your shirt.”

He looked down and frowned. “I wish I’d noticed that before we left the apartment.”

“Not like you have anything cleaner anyway,” you laughed.

“True.” He gave a halfhearted shrug. “Anyway, continue. Tough guy was working you over?”

“Yeah.” You reached for Lucky and the dog happily obliged you, resting his head in your lap so you could stroke him while you talked. “I guess JARVIS picked up the signal from the tracking spray while scanning the city, because they found me and knew about it. Tony wanted me in his lab immediately, but Steve insisted that five hours of being beaten –”

“You talked about the Royals for five hours? You really are an idiot.”

“Thanks, Clint, it’s appreciated. Anyway, Steve insisted that I go to medical first, which is where Bruce patched me up and also where we discovered the spray doesn’t wash off. That’s when Steve got me the disruptor and Bruce gave Helen a call. She’s supposed to get here in a couple of hours.”

Clint tossed your now-empty coffee cup into the trash before standing up and hauling you out of your seat. “Food now. Burgers. Spider-Man insists that Five Guys makes the best burgers in the world, so we’re going to go prove him wrong. No one can beat In-n-Out. We’ll head back to my place and take my car.”

The two of you started walking and he continued, “Two hours of being unconscious, five of being beaten. How much time between then and when you were done in medical?”

“Four more hours, because Bruce and Steve worry too much.”

“Okay, so that doesn’t quite bring us to midnight. What about the last twelve hours?”

“At that point, I hadn’t been in touch with Dave in over twelve hours, so I headed over to his place to explain why I missed our date. A blonde opened the door and he came up behind her and informed me that if my job was going to get in the way so often, he was going to move on. I guess she was how he was starting. Who knows, maybe he’s been with her too this whole time. I don’t care anymore.” You fiddled with the zipper on your jacket. “I just had to get out of there. I’ve been wandering all over town all night, wondering what’s wrong with me.”

“Hey.” Clint pulled you to a stop and faced you, hands on your shoulders and eyes locked on yours. “There’s nothing wrong with you. If that jerk can’t see how amazing you are, he deserves to lose you.”

Lucky added a whine of agreement and you gave Clint a small smile.

“Thanks.”

“I mean it,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets as the two of you resumed your walk to his apartment. “He’s a damn fool to let you get away.”

At his serious tone, you turned your head to study the archer. There was a slight flush across his cheeks that couldn’t be explained by the unusually warm November weather. His shoulders were slightly hunched, and he seemed to be holding himself in tightly as though he were afraid of what he’d do if he relaxed his control.

“You really think that,” you observed. He nodded.

“Course I do. I may be a disaster, but I’m not an idiot.”

“You’re not a disaster,” you teased him softly. “You’re just a hot mess.”

He snorted. “Emphasis on the mess.”

“Eh,” you shrugged with a smile, “don’t minimize the hot part too much.”

That got him. Clint froze that time, halting so suddenly that Lucky let out a whimper as he ran into the back of his owner’s legs.

“You really think that?” He almost parroted your own words back to you, but he said them as a question and not a statement.

“I’m not blind, Clint,” you told him, turning to face him once again. “You’re a very attractive man. Now stop gaping like a fish or something’s going to fly into your mouth.”

He snapped his jaw shut and started walking again. The two of you walked in silence for a bit before he finally broke it with a sentence you weren’t expecting.

“I love you.”

Lucky ran into you this time. Clint wasn’t sure how to read you face, so he started apologizing.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I read the whole situation wrong and now I’ve made your day even worse –”

You cut him off with a kiss. He made a surprised noise in the back of his throat before sinking into you, bringing one hand around your waist and the other to cup your cheek. The two of you didn’t break apart until Lucky barked and forced himself between you two. There was a smile on Clint’s face and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Could we order food in instead? I haven’t slept for thirty-six hours, and I’d like to try to get some sleep while I have something good to think about.”

“Food can wait,” Clint agreed. “Nap first.”

The two of you fell into bed together as soon as you got back to the apartment, your exhaustion putting you to sleep almost immediately despite the fact that Lucky settled across both of you. Clint studied your face as you relaxed and found himself in awe.

“Look at that, Lucky,” he whispered to the dog, not taking his eyes off you. “The most beautiful woman in the world, and she’s with me.”

Lucky gave a happy whine and wiggled himself into a deeper snuggle. He didn’t mind this turn of events at all. After all, you were the one who could afford the dog treats.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

‘we’re on a roadtrip with some friends and we have to share a hotel room and there’s only one bed and a whole lot of sexual tension’ AU Would be nice if it was smutty. Steve and Sam totally set them up. Later Bucky and Tony realise they are both fools since they've been in love with each other since the beginning of their acquaintance.

A/N: I went way overboard on my first run at this prompt - that version is going up on AO3.  

So Open Up, I’m Climbin’ In

“You know, Sam,”  Tony groused, “just because Rhodey deputized you as my new best friend when he deployed doesn’t mean you have to drag me along on all your shenanigans.”  

“C’mon, Tony,” Sam pled.   “Just see what they have to say.”

“You hardly know these guys and you wanna get stuck driving three quarters of the way across the country with them?”  

“Steve was my partner on that group project from hell in my Structural Integrity class last semester,” Sam responded. “We bonded through adversity.   I kinda feel like I owe the guy.”

“But Bruce and I are at an important place in our project.”   Tony knew he was making excuses, but he had a bit of an ulterior motive.

Bruce Banner, Tony’s  ‘science bro’  was a pre-med major with a focus on neurobiology; it had been his idea to explore the possibility of developing an external neural interface to control an upper limb prosthetic. This would allow for less expensive prosthetics to be produced.

Bruce reached out to Tony for his programming and electronics skills, and they’d managed to talk a couple of their professors into supporting the effort.   The fact that Stark Industries had made quite a large donation to the school recently certainly didn’t hurt;  thanks to this act of quasi-nepotism, Tony and Bruce were able to score a private lab area and even offer compensation to their test subjects. Enter J.B. Barnes, a fellow student who was missing the lower two-thirds of his left arm due to a car accident the previous year.    

[more under the cut]

Tony found himself making excuses to hang out in the lab,  because Barnes was absolutely gorgeous.  Long, dark hair, a strong jawline, legs that went on for days, and stunning blue-grey eyes.  Sure, he had a bit of a Resting Murder Face going on,  and he didn’t talk much; which was a shame, since Tony could have listened to that smoky baritone read an error log and still probably pop a boner.  The day he walked in the lab to see a shirtless Barnes – Bruce was measuring his residual limb in order to start building the prosthetic – was one Tony still replayed in his mind.

So it was a hell of a shock to walk into the diner where he and Sam had agreed to meet Rogers and his friend and see a familiar face: Rogers’ pal was none other than Barnes.   Apparently the two of them had known each other since they were kids and had always wanted to go see the Grand Canyon.  Rogers – a shrimpy, artsy type – did most of the talking, while Tony wondered what he’d done to piss off Lady Fate lately.  

“Me ‘n Buck were never much for the crazy Spring Break beach vacations, but figured this would be kind of a last hurrah before we graduate and start our careers.” Rogers explained. “Figure with another driver or two, we can actually make the trip without killing ourselves or each other.  So, are you guys in?”

Tony had never done anything like this before – his family vacations had involved exotic locations and having every wish catered to – but it sounded like an adventure to him and having Barnes as a travel companion was a definite bonus.  Sam was up for it as well,  so they hashed  out a basic route and other logistics. And just a few days later, they were piling into Rogers’ car and getting on the road.

They had to average about six hundred miles a day to get there and back within the nine and a half days they had available to them,  so there wasn’t much time for sightseeing.   They hit a couple of  landmarks along the route –  Niagara Falls  and  the Gateway Arch in St. Louis were the highlights on the way out, and Sam had lobbied hard to stop at the National Air Force Museum in Dayton, Ohio on the way back.   But the majority of the trip was spent in the car and in close quarters.

While Tony had loaded his tablet up with movies and books, he found himself being pulled out of his shell, mostly by Sam but also by his other travel mates as they talked to pass the time.   Bucky and Steve were Brooklyn boys, born and bred and  Sam was happy to talk about growing up in Baltimore with his extended family.

Tony was probably the most reticent, as just about anything he said would come out sounding like he was a spoiled brat.  After all, the name Stark was emblazoned on skyscrapers on both coasts, and he’d grown up in a mansion with servants at his (well, his parents’) beck and call.  But he had a few innocuous anecdotes he felt comfortable sharing, and was able to hold up his end of the conversation well enough.

One bit of surprisingly pleasant news was that Barnes was both gay and single; he’d recently broken up with his boyfriend, who sounded like a real asshole.   Tony knew a little something about that; after a disastrous attempt at a romantic Valentine’s Day the month before  – romance and Ty Stone apparently being polar opposites – Tony had given his own boyfriend the boot.  

He and Bucky – Tony had finally accepted the idea that a grown man was going by the name  ‘Bucky’ – also found themselves bonding over a love of science fiction, arguing good-naturedly about the best novels by the Golden Age writers vs the New Wave and more modern writers.

Both of them had been inspired by their reading to pursue their majors - civil engineering for Bucky and  mechanical engineering and computer programming for Tony.  

“In fact,”  Tony said, “the computer on Star Trek and  Mike in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress got me interested in the idea of artificial intelligences.   I’m working on something along those lines myself.   Remind me to show you  Dum-E when we get back.”

“You named an artificial intelligence Dummy?” Bucky laughed and shook his head.  “Better let Banner have the naming rights on the rig you guys are working on.”

Tony bristled for a moment, then realized Bucky was just teasing him; apparently they’d reached that point in their burgeoning friendship.  “It stands for Digital Mechanical Entity,” he explained.   “He’s a robot with a learning algorithm.  Has independent control of his arm and camera.  I’m working on voice commands at the moment.”

“Sounds impressive. Maybe I could meet Dum-E sometime.”  Bucky smiled, and Tony felt his heart skip a beat. Thankfully,  Sam interrupted with the announcement of an impending pit stop, and Tony worked to regain his equilibrium.  

“You’ve got a thing for Bucky, don’tcha, Tones?”  Sam murmured as they stood together contemplating their junk food options.   Steve and Bucky were checking out, having already restocked.  

“No! Well, not really. Maybe?”   Yes, the guy was practically sex on legs, and they were getting along pretty well now that they’d found they had had interests in common.  However, Tony didn’t want to put that possible friendship in jeopardy by hitting on the guy and making the rest of the trip awkward.  “But nothing’s gonna happen.  He’s way out of my league.”  

“Uh-huh.” Sam crossed his arms and looked unimpressed.

“Just drop it, Samwise.  I don’t want to ruin the party.”

They made it to the Grand Canyon  on Tuesday around noon and spent a few hours exploring the park, with plans to stay the night in Flagstaff before heading back home    Bucky made a  suggestion to visit the Lowell Observatory that evening. Tony was game, but – after exchanging a mysterious look – their companions demurred.  Sam had called ahead to the hotel and booked the last two rooms, saying that they’d have the front desk hold a key for them.  Tony had been sharing a room with Sam up to this point in the trip,  but supposed he could keep his developing crush on Bucky under wraps for one night.

The Observatory tour was entertaining and informative; they even got to take a peek through the Pluto Discovery Telescope.  As they walked back to the car, Tony reflected on how nice it was to spend time with someone who liked the same things he did.  It was almost as if they’d been out on a date together or something.  Not that Tony had a lot of experience with that.

The two of them stopped to grab a bite to eat on the way back to the hotel and lost track of time; it was almost eleven  o’clock by the time he and Bucky got back to the hotel.  The front desk clerk slid the room keycard over once they’d identified themselves.  “Have a lovely evening, gentlemen. Breakfast runs until ten in the morning.”

“Son of a bitch - I bet Sam did this on purpose!”   Tony fumed, looking around as he stepped in the room which contained a single king-sized bed. Quickly assessing his options, he added  “Listen, I’ll grab the bedspread and curl up in the chair or something.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” Bucky replied, giving Tony an assessing look.   “But why do you say this was on purpose?”  

Tony felt his cheeks heating as he replied,  “Sam seems to think I’ve got the hots for you.”  He hadn’t intended to be quite so blunt, but the long travel days must’ve gotten to him.

Instead of laughing, or looking annoyed or disgusted,  Bucky stepped right into Tony’s personal space.  “Well, do ya?”   His question was unexpectedly soft, and somehow hopeful.  

Tony, at a loss for words, simply nodded slightly.  “Good. ‘Cause the feeling’s mutual,”   Bucky purred, tilting his head down to capture Tony’s lips in an exploratory kiss.  His exhaustion evaporated as the kiss moved from something cautious and unsure to confident and insistent.  

Tony opened his mouth eagerly to Bucky’s questing tongue, reaching out to pull him closer, to feel that magnificent chest pressing against his. Bucky threaded his fingers through Tony’s hair to hold his head at the perfect angle, deepening the kiss.  

A hot rush of want ran through Tony’s veins as he realized Bucky was walking him backwards towards the bed, licking and nipping at his neck and collarbone. Tony wondered for a moment if they were jumping into the physical aspect too soon; but then again, the time they’d spent together easily equalled  four or five dates, and wasn’t that usually the ‘make it or break it’ point? But despite the pounding of his pulse and the heat and press of Bucky’s hardon against his leg, Tony wanted to clarify something; make sure things didn’t go too far too fast.  

“Just so you know, I wasn’t planning on getting laid on this trip, so I’m fresh out of condoms and lube.”  

“Same here,” Bucky replied with a rueful grin, panting slightly.  “But I can think of a coupla other things we could do.  I’ve been told I give good head – wanna find out for yourself, darlin?”

Tony’s knees went weak, as much at the unexpected endearment as the offer itself. “Sure, as long as I can return the favor, sunshine.”

Bucky grinned and tugged at the waistband of Tony’s jeans.  “Drop ‘em.”

Tony was eager to comply; hastily pushing the covers back to sit on the edge of the bed. He grabbed a pillow for Bucky to kneel on before stripping out of his jeans and briefs.  Trembling with anticipation, Tony couldn’t hold back a moan as Bucky sank to his knees and ran his hand up Tony’s thigh.  

“I figured you’d be a vocal kinda guy,” Bucky smirked. “S’always good to be appreciated.”  He wrapped his hand around Tony’s cock, giving it a few firm strokes before flicking his tongue against the tip.  That wrung a gasp from Tony, his hands flying out to grab blindly at Bucky’s shoulders.  

“God, yes, more,” he begged, as Bucky began sucking his dick.  Bucky hadn’t been exaggerating as to his skills; those plush, sinful lips and talented tongue were taking Tony apart.  The brush of Bucky’s long hair against his thighs combined with the slow circles his thumb was rubbing into Tony’s hipbone just added to the sensory overload.   He could feel the orgasm building in his system as Bucky bobbed up and down, taking practically all of Tony’s cock into his hot, wet mouth.

“M’ getting close, sweetheart,” Tony gasped.  “Where do you want me to come?”  He figured it was only polite to ask.

Bucky pulled off for a moment, squeezing the base of Tony’s cock tight. “Wanna taste ya, sugar.  Suck every last drop outta you.”  

The dirty talk combined with  Bucky swallowing Tony to the root was his undoing; Tony came hard, his keen of pleasure probably waking the neighbors. Bucky gentled him through the aftershocks; but instead of the lassitude he’d expected after such a strong climax,  Tony felt energized, hungry to give Bucky the same pleasure he’d just received.

“Allow me to join in the choir singing your praises,”  Tony said,  responding to Bucky’s questioning look.   “How and where do you want me to go down on you, hot stuff?”

“It’s not gonna take long,”  Bucky admitted. “Might as well get in bed, so’s we can fall asleep after.”     He stood and shimmied out of his jeans with more grace than Tony would have expected.   He paused before taking off his shirt,  and gave Tony a raised eyebrow.   Tony realized he was still wearing his AC/DC concert tee.

Tony skinned the shirt over his head before he could reconsider; his scars were nothing compared to what Bucky had gone through.  When he caught the brief widening of his companion’s eyes, he explained. “Heart murmur. Had to repair a valve or two, no biggie.”   It was easy to minimize now, a year or so after the fact.  “But enough about me.  Time to focus on you, sweetheart.”

Bucky finished undressing – a simple flesh-colored sock covered his stump – and stretched out on the bed,  an anticipatory grin on his face.  His cock was hard and throbbing; apparently he got turned on by giving head.  Good to know.   Tony prowled up Bucky’s body, claiming a hard, fierce kiss before moving down to nuzzle at his neck,  sucking marks across Bucky’s collarbone. His hands roamed restlessly over his partner’s body, tweaking a nipple here, reaching under to grab a handful of ass there, doing any and everything  that seemed to drive Bucky even further into the throes of passion.  

Bucky wasn’t exactly a quiet bedmate either; an almost continuous stream of gasps and moans pushing from his lips as he rutted shamelessly against Tony, leaving smears of precome on their skin.     “C’mon, darlin,” he begged,  “need to feel your mouth on my dick.  Show me just what kind of a cocksucker you are.”

Bucky was both longer and thicker than what Tony was used to – which, admittedly, was only Ty, and one anonymous mutual handjob outside a club late one night – , but ‘adapt and overcome’ wasn’t  Tony’s motto for nothing.  He  wrapped his fingers tightly around the base of Bucky’s cock, stroking up and down as he licked and sucked, swirling his tongue around the tip, alternating hollowing out his cheeks and pressing Bucky’s cock hard against the roof of his mouth.  

Bucky touched the back of Tony’s head.  “Can I?  Promise I won’t push or hold ya down or nothin’.”   Tony hummed his assent, and Bucky carded his fingers through Tony’s hair as he continued bobbing up and down.  “Wanna come down your throat, sugar.  Is that okay?”  

Tony responded by going as deep as he could, then coming back up with a grin.  “Toldja I’d return the favor.”   He took a breath, then swallowed down as much of Bucky’s cock as he could, fighting his gag reflex. Bucky was true to his word; even as he came; shaking and shuddering with a low, staccato moan, he didn’t hold Tony down or push him even deeper.  Tony looked up to see a sleepy, satisfied expression on Bucky’s face as he murmured “C’mere, darlin’.”

“So, in all that paperwork I filled out for your project,” Bucky drawled, as they got settled into a comfortable, spooning position, “I don’t recall nothing about a ban on fraternization. Is that right?”  

“As far as I can remember.  I’ll check with Bruce in the morning.”   Tony tried not to read too much into Bucky’s question, but fell asleep with a hopeful heart that whatever was going on between them could grow into something more than a one night stand.

“This,”  Tony declared as he looked around the table,  “is the best birthday ever. Thank you.”  He felt tears of joy stinging his eyes as he leaned over and blew out the candles on his cake.   What a contrast from the year before, when it had been just him and Rhodey and a stale cupcake from the dorm vending machine.   Or even just a few months earlier, before that crazy road trip, when he spent his weekends in front of his computer instead of spending time with people he cared about, and who cared about him.    

Sam had made the cake from his momma’s recipe, and once it was cut and passed around, out came the gifts.   Bruce had bought him a gigantic coffee mug, and Bruce’s girlfriend Betty,  who Tony had only met a couple of times, had knit him a scarf.  Steve presented Tony with a sketch of his favorite building on campus,  and Rhodey – whose presence was gift enough in Tony’s opinion – gave him a vintage physics book dated 1898, the same year the electron was discovered.  

Bucky had given Tony his present over breakfast – a bronze bracelet depicting the astrological symbols of Pluto and Charon.   Inside, it was inscribed “I am your moon, you are my moon.”   It was a perfect reminder of their visit to Lowell Observatory and the events of that night;  they’d both gotten a little misty eyed when Tony opened the box.

Now,  Bucky was sitting right next to Tony, his right arm wrapped casually around Tony’s waist as he slowly ate using the latest iteration of the prosthetic in a real-life test.   Tony wasn’t sure what he was prouder of;  the work that he and Bruce had put into creating the prosthetic and the interface, or the work Bucky had put in to learn how to use it.  Regardless, he found himself cheering internally each time another bite of cake was successfully consumed.

“Wanna try feeding me a bit, sunshine?”

Bucky looked over at Tony’s empty plate.  “Uh-huh - you’re just anglin’ to get more cake, aren’tcha?”  But he focused his attention and maneuvered the fork over in front of Tony, only to smear the frosting on his nose. “Oops! Sorry, sweetheart,” Bucky apologized, but he couldn’t keep a straight face for long as he leaned in to lick the errant icing off

“Fine motor control test complete.”  Bruce commented dryly, as the rest of the table dissolved in laughter.  Tony hadn’t needed to make a birthday wish this year;  he had everything he wanted right here.  

[rosalietodd013]

Forever (Part 8): Torn

Summary: The reader is in too much pain in light of recent events and everything she has been through. Except she doesn’t know who she is or where is plans to go. What is she gonna do?

Warnings: Slight angst, reader on the move once more, lots of exposition (sorry)

Catch Up on the rest of the story: Part 1 HERE, Part 2 HERE, Part 3 HERE, Part 4 HERE, Part 5 HERE, Part 6 HERE , Part 7 HERE

I stay with Jo, Ellen, and Ash – I met him an hour after I had gotten to the roadhouse, and he was a… interesting genius; he would be amazing for the hunting community ­– for two weeks before I finally decide that I need to leave.

I really don’t want to because I have grown close to the trio. Ellen gave me a room in the back and a job working as a waitress in the roadhouse, which I thought was a nice change to what I normally do for money and work and a great distraction.

I don’t reflect on my family or my shitty past the whole while I’m in Nebraska. I’m too busy serving people beer and food and listening to Jo go on about wanting to travel the country, though a part of me feels as though there is a hidden meaning behind her words.

I just feel better when I’m taking Ash a beer and whatever dinner Ellen cooks for us that night, having him teach me some of the techy stuff he learned before getting kicked out of MIT. Or when Ellen asks me how I like it there with them, or subtly getting me to talk about myself, my past. But I can’t talk to her about all of that for two reasons.

First, she can’t relate to my past. Hunting the things that most people don’t know let alone believe are out there in the dark. The family business isn’t something you just tell people about for different reasons, regardless of how friendly and open they seem. She’d either think I was crazy and would send me somewhere else or I would bring a new level of understanding to her life, one that would cause her to become more and more paranoid about her own daily life and the safety of her daughter and her establishment. That’s why we do what we do and shut up about it.

And second, there are some aspects of my past hat I’ve never been honest about with anyone. The relationship between Sam and I is not one that can be broadcasted to literally anyone. No one would look at either of us the same, not to mention the fact that if somehow the news that my brother and I were once an item got back to California, Sam would never be able to have that normal life he so desperately craves – he’s making it a reality Y/N, it’s not longer a dream – and that would be on me. And don’t even get me started on Dad. I can’t even imagine what he’d do if he found out. Better to just let all of this dwindle back down to the secret it once was between two incredibly fucked up siblings.

I know I should just move on and forget any of this even happened – Ellen’s words didn’t fall on deaf ears that night – but no matter how many tables I bus or laughs I share with the only friend I’ve ever had outside blood, I can’t forget. This pain that I’m feeling is always there, persistent for my attention, and I’m too weak to fight it anymore.

So on the last night of the second week, I decide I won’t and pack my minimal belongings, using my hunter skills to my advantage as I sneak past Jo’s room, then Ash’s, and finally Ellen’s as the trio sleep in a peaceful, drug induced state – couldn’t have any of them waking up before I’m gone and making this harder than it already is.

I look back at Harvelle’s Roadhouse one last time from the highway before making my way back down Route 30 towards the South Dakota state line.

At first, going to Sioux Falls seems like the best idea. I’m sure Bobby would let me stay for as long as I needed before my father eventually caught up with me. He probably contacted the older hunter to have him keep an eye out for me, but I know Bobby wouldn’t do that, and that’s one of the reasons I stop.

Sure Bobby wouldn’t tell Dad where I am straight away, but that’s the problem. My father has been overprotective of me since the night my mother died. Nowadays he might not be as upset if he found out that Bobby had been training me behind his back since I was eight, but that topped with the fact that he knew where I was after I left him and Dean weeks ago would severe the relationship between the two. They might now always see eye to eye, but this would make any petty argument they’ve ever had in the past look like minuscule misunderstandings. And I know Dean would be on Dad’s side, he always is. But no matter how upset I might be with them and this whole situation, I could bever bare being the one responsible for Dean and Bobby’s fallout he admires the man too much.

But I also realize something else on my way up to see the old man while in the eighteen-wheeler with a guy who was nice enough and not at all shady to take me. Bobby can’t help me. He might actually make the situation worse. He would remind me of Sam, and my pain would only increase as time goes on. Some of my best memories with him were at Bobby’s house. I know Bobby would have good intentions for me, trying to help me, but never knowing the real reason I am the way I am, making sure I’m not alone, etc.

But at the end of the day, I don’t think I need the comfort or hell even the company of another person for at least a little while.

So when I arrive at the Singer Salvage Yard, I don’t make my way towards the big, old house that belongs to my surrogate father. Instead, I make my way towards the area that I know contains a bunch of Bobby’s pet projects. Rumsfeld is laying on the hood of one of the older, beyond repair cars, and as I walk up, he lifts his head and jumps down so I can pet him.

“Hey buddy,” I say as I rub his head playfully. “Don’t say anything, okay?”

He tries to follow me as I walk closer to the building, but his chain stops him, and he whimpers quietly. I give him an apologetic glance before continuing on my way.

I spot a 1993 Jeep Grand Cherokee that honestly looks too beat up and old to be only just over 10 years old. It’s got a new coat of navy blue paint on it to try and hide all the dents and scratches underneath. Kinda reminds me of a woman putting make-up over a facial blemish.

I don’t hesitate as I make my way over to the garage that Bobby seems to close at night and grab the keys out of the cabinet that houses all of the cars that still somewhat function in the place.

I throw my stuff in the back seat and make my way to the front and pray that the car started and doesn’t stall, alerting Bobby to my presence. But it appears that luck just isn’t on my side as of late because the car does exactly what I don’t want it to do.

The engine continues to stutter time after time as I turn the key in the ignition. I know the car is making too much noise because I hear the sound of a screen door slam open and then close and a gruff voice call out.

“You must be a goddamn idjit if you think you’re gonna steal one of my cars.”

I can hear the sound of footsteps quickly making their way towards me. I know if he reaches me he won’t shoot me with the shotgun he likely grabbed out of the office on his way out, but I also know that if he reaches me, it’ll all be over.

“Come on. Come on. Please.”

It must be the magic word because just after the last syllable has passed my lips, the car comes to life.

“Yes!” I call out in excitement and relief, but I don’t take any more time out to do more than that.

I put the car in gear and make my way around stacks of cars and past Rumsfeld who is now barking excitedly. As I am almost back to the gate, I hear a gunshot off to my right and turn to see Bobby quickly making his way in front of me to cut me off, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop now.

He aims his gun at the front windshield of the Jeep and goes to pull the trigger, but the closer the car gets the more recognition occurs to him. He moves out of the way as the car zooms past him, the two of us making eye contact temporarily before I speed back through the gates of the lot, a feeling of guilt settling in the pit of my stomach.

As I make my way to the road, my phone rings in my pocket –I turned off the GPS at the bus station in Palo Alto, so I didn’t have to worry about being tracked –and I take it out to see Bobby’s name flashing across my screen.

The feeling of guilt swells immensely as I toss the phone out of the car and into the grass as I drive down the road to the highway.

I don’t know how far I drive or for how long. I arrived in Sioux Falls sometime around noon which means that I left not too longer after that, and the sun is long gone by now, having set a few hours after I crossed the Minnesota/Wisconsin border. I only stop a few times for gas, to pee, and to grab a 20oz Red Bull to keep me awake for a few hundred more miles. Other than that, I keep going East on I-90 until I reach Chicago.

I don’t stay long, just long enough for me to find a decent motel that doesn’t cost $250 a night, grab enough to eat so that I no longer look like the walking dead, and sleep for a day and a half.

When I arrive, the sun is just beginning to peak over the horizon, causing the sky to clash in a kaleidoscope of colors. Reds, oranges, and even some purples color the sky like water paint. Sam and I used to watch the sunrise and sunset years ago. I would be so memorized at the sight and the rare time I got to spend alone with my brother, and now that fact makes me avoid looking at the sky as I go about my business.

By the time I leave the following afternoon, I’m not as tired and continue to push down I-90.

Somewhere between Indianapolis and Cincinnati, I realize that I need to pick a destination before I hit the coast. I could just stay in motels, but I don’t want to keep moving, and eventually, the money Ellen gave me for working at the Roadhouse is going to run out, and I can’t see myself hustling pool forever. I’m far enough away when I reach this point that I don’t have to worry about anyone catching up to me anytime soon. Unless my dad puts out an all hunters bulletin for me, which is unlikely, but not impossible.

He would want to keep this in the family for the time being before he turned to other hunters – strangers. Speaking of hunters…

Not too far from the Virginia border in the mountains, there is a hunter’s cabin. A safe house. Most hunters have them, or they know someone who does, just in case they ever to drop off the grid or just need a place to relax and recover. A female hunter who my dad, brother, and I met recently owns one just outside Galax, Virginia.

We worked a ghoul case with her and Dad saved her ass when she underestimated how many there were. As a token of her gratitude, she gave him her phone number in case be ever needed her help, and the address to all of her safe houses in case he needed a break or help. Apparently, that was a big deal for her because only she and three other hunters knew the locations of these safe houses. You can’t trust every hunter you come across. Everyone has their own motives and agendas, so most of the time you can’t put all your faith in them. She really had to trust Dad to give him that information.

The day she gave him the information, I swiped one of the addresses the following night just in case something like this happened because the idea has been in my head for a while. Luckily for me, the address I swiped was just where I needed it to be.

It’s pitch black outside when I get to the cabin, the moon and the Jeep headlights being the only sources od light for miles. There is a code I need to enter into the gate so that I can get in, and I have to open the door so I can see the keys and piece of paper said code is on.

When the gates open, I drive through on a long dirt road for about five minutes before there is light on each side of the road, almost like the lights on the edge of a runway. They lead me up to the cabin, and my jaw drops at what I see.

I’ve never been inside a place this luxurious before. Sure I’ve seen mansions and some nice looking cabins in passing, but I’ve never been inside, and none of those places were half as beautiful as this.

Angelina – the hunter this place belongs to – must have been loaded before she became a hunter because I’m pretty sure I remember her saying her other safe houses were all fairly the same. God, I can only wonder what the other places look like.

For the time being, I park in front of the cabin, though I can see the silhouette of a building not too far off that looks like it could be a garage. I grab my bags out of the backseat and make my way to the front door. This door has a keypad as well, and when I punch in the same code from the gate. I open the door and am met with a living room fit for such a luxurious cabin as this.

I walk through the place, going room to room, inspecting the area. Somehow the lights come on by themselves, automated most likely. In the kitchen, I am taken aback by how straight out of a catalog it looks. I also notice that the fridge is fully stocked, as well as the pantry.

“She or one of the other hunters must have been here recently,” I say absentmindedly as I notice how distant the expiration dates are on the nonperishables. “Someone must come here often.” Hope my being here isn’t going to be a problem.

Leaving the kitchen, I look around and find a few bedrooms downstairs as well as a large office/library space which can only be what I assume is for lore and research. I’ll have to come back down here in the morning and investigate more in depth.

I make my way up the stairs to the balcony, and I notice more rooms.

I pick one of the bedrooms at the far end of the upper level and drop my duffle on a chair in the corner by the window, my computer bag/backpack having been left in the library.

It’s not actually until I strip down to my black tank top and matching boyshorts and fall into bed that I realize just how tired I am. Because when my head hits the pill, I’m out.

Part 9

Tags: @pretty-fortune, @sharethelovebeauty

A/N: If you want to be tagged in this story or any of the others in my masterlist, just let me know. I also do forever (not the story this time) tags.

[thedailyhs]

Harry Styles: Brexit is the wrong direction

The last thing Harry Styles does before he goes to bed each night is send himself an email listing what he’s doing the next day. “Even if it’s really boring, like ‘9am: coffee’. If you have no plans, you’re at a loss sometimes. I find it difficult to drift.”

He thinks it’s probably a hangover from his six years in one of the biggest boybands of all time, One Direction, where every minute of their lives on tour was relentlessly micromanaged. World tours could last nearly a year — and they didn’t just involve playing stadiums. There was also endless promo to do during the day and recording sessions during “downtime”. One Direction: This Is Us — the 2013 behind-the-scenes documentary by the Super Size Me film-maker Morgan Spurlock — captured his bandmate Zayn Malik being hauled mercilessly out of his tour bus bunk bed, 10 minutes after falling asleep, to record a vocal line for a new song.

After Malik quit the band in early 2015, he published a book explaining how the intensely regimented schedule led to him developing an eating disorder. “I didn’t feel like I had control over anything else in my life, but food was something I could control, so I did,” he wrote. In contrast, Styles seems to have thrived on the discipline.

“I love routine,” he explains. “You have it when you’re younger. You have school at this time, so breakfast at this time, you get up at this time. Even when people finish school, it’s a bit tough to know what to do with yourself.”

Perhaps it was a way for him to hold onto some of that youth. He was 16 when he moved from Cheshire to London as an X Factor hopeful. It was 2010, the year Simon Cowell groomed five nubile teenage boys who hadn’t made it through the solo auditions to form a supergroup. Styles became the most famous and lusted-after member of what quickly became the most famous and lusted-after boyband in the world. According to this year’s Rich List, he is now worth £40m.

Now 23, Styles is experimenting with being master of his own universe. One Direction went on “indefinite hiatus” last year and he has spent the intervening months writing and recording his debut solo album and filming his first movie role for Christopher Nolan’s war epic, Dunkirk, due for release this summer. The album is called Harry Styles — perhaps the most breathlessly anticipated solo record since Robbie left Take That. Its first single, Sign of the Times — a swooping, bombastic, 5½-minute ballad — topped the charts in 84 countries on the day of its release. But the moment it really hits me what an enormous deal he is is when he calls me out of the blue one Friday afternoon to arrange our interview.

“Hi, it’s Harry,” coos the young, northwestern voice belonging to the withheld number.

“Harry who?” I bark, assuming it’s some kid with a gap-year job trying to sell me something.

“Harry Styles. Do you have time to get some lunch next week?”

The “personal touch” is the mark of the true global superstar. Bono, Chris Martin and Taylor Swift all know the power of sidestepping the bureaucracy of managers and PRs to deliver their own intimate invitations. It sends a number of messages, most obviously: I am normal and relatable and can use a phone. But also: I alone control my destiny. After establishing that my diary is pretty free, Styles sets a date at one of his favourite central London restaurants. He’ll book.

Three days later, I arrive at the restaurant to find there is no reservation for Harry Styles. (Of course not. What kind of megastar would book a table under their own name?) There is a table for someone with a similar name, but as I don’t know it and the table has a special VIP request on it, the waiter is understandably reluctant to seat little old me there. Five minutes later, “Harry Spring” bounds in looking a lot like Harry Styles and vouches for me. Phew.

He is lovely from the off — not just to me, but to all the serving staff. Warm hugs and handshakes for everyone, “pleases” and “thank-yous” after every other word. We sit down and he immediately jumps back up to help the waiter carry some waters over.

He is wearing jeans, tan ankle boots and a Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned low enough to catch a generous eyeful of his well-maintained torso and the countless tattoos that splatter his chest and left arm. His hair is pushed back off his face by a pair of sunglasses perched on top of his head. He wears a crucifix around his neck and his fingers are weighed down by chunky silver rings. Yes, he is gorgeous: expressive, boyish face; gentle demeanour; impeccable manners. But without wishing to dent his heartthrob status, I’m not sure the nagging urge I have to take him home with me is desire. I think I want him as my son.

He has brought two phones with him — one for personal use (it has a screensaver of his baby goddaughter on it) and a pink one to play me his new album. Though just 23, he is already godfather to three kids. Most of his close friends, he says, are older than him. “Moving to London … I just wanted to learn from people who would have advice,” he explains. His friendship with the 32-year-old Radio 1 DJ Nick Grimshaw initially led to rumours that they were in a romance, though Styles has denied he is bisexual. These days speculation about his love life largely revolves around A-list women.

He orders chicken paillard and muses about going pescatarian. “I did it for two weeks as a test. I think I’ll do it at some point for a longer time.” Why does he want to do it? He’s not sure, but “a little bit of discipline is good”, he thinks

.I ask him if he was aware of Zayn Malik’s eating disorder; he says no. Does he wish he had known so he could have done something to help? “I mean, yes, obviously. If anyone is ever going through anything, you always feel like you should know, so you could have done something. But it’s not always how it goes, is it? In the same way that I don’t talk about stuff, other people don’t always talk about stuff, and maybe that’s how they deal with stuff.”

He refuses to say a bad word about his life in One Direction. “It’s very hard to think of it as not this amazing thing. It’s really hard to complain.” While he and the other members of the band are “on hiatus”, Malik is the only one officially to quit. He has since made some rather disparaging comments in the press about One Direction’s music, and has also recorded a song with Taylor Swift — Styles’s ex — for the Fifty Shades Darker film soundtrack. Has he seen much of him recently? There is a pause.

“Um … not so much.” Is it a strained relationship? “It’s OK. I think we’re both happy for each other that we’re doing what we want to do and everyone’s having a good time.”

His smile returns when I ask him about the other three members of the band. “Everyone’s working so much at the moment, but I’ve seen them and we’ve hung out.”

When did he last speak to Simon Cowell? “Recently, actually. Two weeks ago.” He called after hearing an advance copy of Sign of the Times. “He said he really liked it and he was very proud of me. It was very friendly …” he catches himself “… not like past phone calls haven’t been friendly, but I didn’t get that nervy ‘the boss is calling’ feel, which was nice.”

He is itching to play me the album, but before he does I’d like to know why he wanted to go solo. “At certain times you write songs where you just want to tell the whole story,” he says. “Like, if you write a song that’s personal to you, it’s tough to hand that over to a band.”

What things did he want to say? He winces. He has spent the past seven years trying to reveal as little about himself as possible. One Direction press interviews rarely lasted longer than 10 minutes, with four other band members to hide behind. This level of personal dissection is new. “I really wanted it to be honest. I didn’t want to edit lyrics,” he says. “Making this album is one of the best times I’ve ever had. But it’s a much more vulnerable feeling coming to put it out than I’ve experienced before.”

So, to the album. Heavily indebted to 1960s and 1970s rock, psychedelia, alt-country and glam, it’s about as far from One Direction’s high-pitched teeny bop as he could run. He wrote and recorded most of it over a period of two months last summer in a studio in Jamaica. Styles says he was inspired by the 1970s American singer-songwriter Harry Nilsson and stuff his parents used to play when he was younger: Fleetwood Mac, the Beatles and the Stones from his father; Norah Jones and Shania Twain from his mother.

The influences might not be very fashionable, but perhaps that’s the point. For all of One Direction’s commercial success, I still struggle to hum a single one of their tunes. Styles has replaced their transient pop flotsam with something more permanent. And it works: a few of the tracks already sound like classics. Lyrically, it’s saturated with sex, longing and heartache — a rare glimpse into his personal life. The final song is called From the Dining Table and begins: “Woke up alone in this hotel room. Played with myself, where were you? Fell back asleep, got drunk by noon, I’ve never felt less cool.”

Played with yourself? You dirty boy!

“Noooo! Played with my thoughts!” he backpedals.

Last month he gave an interview to Rolling Stone magazine in which he mentioned that one woman in particular had been a “huge part of the album. Sometimes you want to tip the hat, and sometimes you just want to give them the whole cap … and hope they know it’s just for them.” The comment was seized upon by fans and press as proof the album is all about Kendall Jenner, the model, reality-TV star and half-sister of Kim Kardashian with whom Styles is said to have had an on-off relationship over the past couple of years.

Would he care to set the record straight? Obviously not. “It doesn’t feel to me like [the album] is a romantic thing about one person. It’s more about me than anyone else. I feel like it’s really easy to say it’s about this person, and that’s what’s really interesting. I’ve never felt a massive desire to talk about stuff like that.”

I do feel for him. His love life has always come under intense scrutiny. In 2012, aged 18, he and Taylor Swift became front-page news when they were papped on their second date, strolling around Central Park. They broke up soon afterwards, but fascination with their relationship was compounded when Swift reportedly wrote at least two songs about him on her next album (Out of the Woods and Style).

Does the glaring spotlight on his love life make it hard for relationships to develop naturally?

“Relationships are hard anyway. You don’t always know what something is straight away — you can’t say, ‘Oh, in a week I’m going to know what this is.’ Often you end up being told what something is before you know what it is yourself. All of that stuff happened when I was quite young as well and it’s confusing when you haven’t been in a ton of relationships.”

Has he had to forego that side of his life or has he been able to have love affairs on the quiet?

“Not in the last while, because I’ve been doing [the album] and I did a lot of … I don’t know really. No, I feel like I just worked a lot in the band. There was so much going on.”

How many times has he been in love?

“I don’t know. I don’t know how you define it, so it’s tough [to answer], right?”

I think you know when it happens …

“Well, that’s what they say.” He laughs awkwardly and reaches for the pink phone. “Erm, do you want to hear another song?”

He has always been a charmer and ladies’ man. His older sister, Gemma (a freelance writer on technology and millennial trends), wrote an article for Another Man magazine recently in which she recalled a family holiday to Cyprus with seven-year-old Harry. “He was holding court around the pool with people three times his age. When he left on a shuttle bus back to the airport … there was a crowd of young, adult women gathered on the pavement waving him off through the window, shouting their goodbyes.”

He and Gemma were raised in Cheshire. Their father was a financial adviser, but now works in insurance. Styles was seven when his parents divorced. He remembers living in a pub for four years while his mother took a job as a landlady. He is thankful that his parents remained on amicable terms, even after his mother remarried.

“I’m lucky in that I never had to do that thing [of experiencing divided loyalties] when they split up. Feeling loved and supported by them never changed during that.”

He still speaks to his mother on the phone most days. “A lot of friends of mine say, ‘Your mum’s a really good mum.’ She’s never made me feel like I have to prove myself. A lot of people grow up not really talking about how they feel about each other, but our house was always filled with loving each other.”

From 14 he had a job at his local bakery, getting up at 5am each Saturday. He always thought he’d be a physiotherapist, “but then we had a workshop at school where we went in to talk about what we wanted to do and essentially someone told me there were no jobs in that, so I should pick something else. I was a little stumped, to be honest.”

He formed a group with some schoolmates called White Eskimo and they entered a local battle of the bands competition. “I remember how nervous I was before, but then afterwards, that feeling about everyone watching you do something that you were enjoying really resonated with me. That adrenaline rush I like.”

He has a busy year planned, with a three-month solo world tour starting in September. The movie Dunkirk is released in July. He hasn’t seen it yet, so doesn’t know how big his role as a British soldier will be. There is a rumour that he is also due to play Mick Jagger in a biopic, which he denies — though his chosen look for the solo album is very flouncy, 1970s, androgynous Jagger. “I’ve honestly never heard anything about the film. I don’t even think it’s a thing.”

If the ruched blouses are one clue that his boyband days are well behind him, another is his answer to the following question: how will he vote in the general election? “Honestly, I’m probably going to vote for whoever is against Brexit.”

Wow, a media-groomed star giving an opinion on something vaguely controversial. Why is he so anti-Brexit? “I’m not educated enough on the subject to really go toe-to-toe with someone about it, but disregarding the economic stuff and all of that, I think what it symbolises is the opposite of the world I would like to be in. I think the world should be more about being together and being better together and joining together, and I think it’s the opposite of that.”

Despite having 30m followers on Twitter and 20.3m on Instagram, he is surprisingly quiet on social media. “I heard someone once say, if Twitter was a house party and you knew that 30% of everyone there was amazing and everyone else in there was really horrible to each other, you just wouldn’t go,” he explains.

He is a lot more serious and sensible than all the videos of him goofing around in his One Direction days had led me to believe. After three hours in his company, I can’t detect any vices — he tells me he barely even drinks. “The last two years of touring, I found the routine nicer to get up and go for a run or something. I don’t like drinking when I’m working at all, even the days before. I usually have a drink when I’m out with friends, but then usually go for a month without drinking.”

It’s finally time for him to go. What did last night’s email say he has to do next, I wonder. “I’m going for a haircut,” he smiles. What a good boy.

[sophiakountakis]

Hi guys!

I recently made a post about my experience at New York Fashion Week a few weeks ago and if you haven’t read it yet, visit the post here. For my last show of the season, I had the opportunity to borrow a bag from the brand Dooz, which is co-founded by Rachel Borghard and Mia Kazovsky who graduated from Pratt Institute Fashion Design. As a Pratt student myself, I felt that this collaboration was meant to be! I borrowed the Pisces Céleste Bag in lime green for the Hogan McLaughlin show. I talk more about how I met them and how I style the bag in an article on their brand blog called The Scope. The article is called A Day in the Life of a Pisces – Sophia Kountakis and I go through my experience during Fashion Week, explain makeup tips, and show how I style my outfits. Read the article here. I am super proud of this and I am very thankful for getting the opportunity to borrow this adorable bag and have an article published.

An excerpt of the article is below along with photos from the shoot I did with the bag.

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  A Day in the Life of a Pisces – Sophia Kountakis

The morning of Saturday, September 7 is my first day attending NYFW. As a fashion and beauty micro-influencer, I am fortunate to attend a few fashion shows – something I’ve always dreamed about. I have my outfits planned out and the makeup looks to go with them. I am a Pisces, so naturally I gravitate towards sea and ocean-themed everything. My look for today is blue and green with neutral hues to balance out the colors. I recently found out my ascendant and moon signs are in Scorpio, which means I’m all water! 

9AM – I wake up nervous – I have a lot to do before my first show at noon! First order of business:  take photos for a Glossier giveaway and post it to instagram. I’m currently a Glossier Affiliate, which is super exciting because it’s a goal I have been working hard to achieve. I love what Glossier stands for, “Skin first, makeup second”, and I totally believe in that. I purchase a lot of Glossier on my own, so it’s nice to receive a small amount of revenue when people purchase through my links. I create weekly tutorials on Insta-stories and occasionally post tutorials on IGTV. 

10AM – So, let’s get into it! I do a “Get Ready With Me” makeup tutorial via Instagram stories to show how I coordinate my beauty look with my first outfit. I use eyeliner to create a graphic blue shape that comes across my crease. My pro tip: draw small lines while looking straight ahead at the mirror. Don’t move the skin around your eyes or tilt your head too much, this distorts angles of the liner. If you have hooded eyes, draw over the fold of the eye while looking straight to create a continuous wing. I always ground my arms to a desk for stabilization and just take my time. If I mess up, I clean it with concealer or a Q-Tip. 

Now, back to the outfit… My dress is from COS and has a blue and green watercolor print. My heels are from Marais USA and my bag is a pale blue Mansur Gavriel Lady Bag. My earrings are also pale blue and they are made from polymer clay from the brand Kitsu. In other words, I am a living, breathing, water sign for the first show – how Pisces of me.

11AM – I finish getting ready and head to Chelsea to see the Nolcha shows. As a creative person, it completely fulfills a part of me to witness design, fashion, and humans come together to create a piece of work that can be seen, touched, and interacted with.

12PM – The show starts! This particular show was from a Chinese designer. It’s so fascinating to see fashion trends from other countries because they see fashion through a completely different lens. 

12:15PM – After the show, I go outside to take photos of my outfit with my trusty photographer, aka my boyfriend! My boyfriend is a fellow Pisces, and I feel lucky that we get to create images together. We see each other’s direction and he understands my vision for an outfit, while pushing me to try different things. 

2PM- Finally back at my apartment in Brooklyn to eat a late lunch.

3PM – I get back on Instagram stories to transition my makeup for the next look. I fill in my eyeliner to create a very thick, blue, graphic, winged eyelid. I apply cobalt blue eyeshadow with a small flat brush and carefully fill in the lines from the eyeliner. I do this until the shadow is about half way through my lid, then I add some iridescent white eyeshadow and blend it with the blue shadow so to create a gradient across my lid. I touch up the rest of my makeup from the morning by going over it with some foundation powder to take away any oil or creasing. Simple as that!

4PM – I change into my next outfit, which is much more simple and sophisticated. My top is very formal and completely hides my figure. I love how fashion can distort the human body. 

5PM – I head to the Target 20th Anniversary Pop-Up on the Upper East Side. Target brought back all of their designer collaborations from the past years, so I went shopping for some Missoni items.

7PM – I rush back downtown to Pier 59 to attend my last set of shows for the night at Oxford Collective Design Studio, where multiple designers show their collections at once. There were six different small designers, and the outfits were interesting and simple. 

9PM – Dinner date with my boyfriend at Boucherie, a French restaurant, where we unwind, drink lots of wine, and reminisce about the busy day we had! 

Sunday, September 8 is my day of rest. I really need some downtime to refuel my energy and collect my thoughts.

Monday, September 9 is my last day of NYFW!

9AM – I wake up and plan my outfit for the day. I want to wear something dreamy with a simple cut. When researching designer Hogan McLaughlin, whose show I’ll be attending tonight, I learn that he designs a lot of long hems and simple cuts. To compliment his aesthetic, I choose  a simple, long t-shirt dress and pair it with some red croc-embossed boots for a fun pop of color.

Now for the fun part – makeup! I want to create a natural, feminine look for today. I start with a pink shadow for the base of my eyelid and then layer a shimmer shadow on top. I love shimmer tones in all colors and intensities because they make anyone’s  eyes pop! 

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10AM – I head to pick up my Dooz Pisces Céleste Bag, which I’m borrowing for the show tonight! I’ve been eyeing this piece for a while – I love its lime green color because it matches all of my ensembles for the weekend. I meet up with Rachel and Mia, the co-founders of Dooz, at Cha Cha Matcha and I discover that they are Pratt Institute alumni. I’m currently a grad student at Pratt, so I think to myself, “this was meant to be!” We discuss our day, get to know each other’s zodiac signs, and talk about the show I am attending tonight. I can’t wait to showcase this bag! 

12PM – Lunchtime with my friend. A creative mind has to eat!

2PM – 5PM – Back at school and time for my studio class at Higgins Hall, which is where all the architecture students  design and construct. Right now in studio, we are doing research for a civic center. This year is the experimental studio, so we are diagramming our research instead of presenting it as a written survey. My professor is currently living in Switzerland, so we Skype call him for class – gotta love technology! The session is very quick, but we have lots of corrections to make before next studio class on Thursday. 

6PM – I rush back to Manhattan to catch the Hogan McLaughlin show at Pier 59! I love every single outfit that comes down the runway. The collection has structure, color blocking, geometric cuts, and different materials pieced together. I get to meet some influencers I follow on Instagram and I even come face to face with Kelly Cutrone in the second row! I take photos of every runway show I attend because I find it  fascinating to capture the movement within a split second.

7PM – Home and I cook myself some pasta to reward myself for a long weekend.

10PM – Ahh, bedtime at last! A Pisces needs to sleep well in order to take on the rest of the busy week. 

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  xx

Photos taken by Khue Trinh.

I was a #DoozMuse for Fashion Week! Hi guys! I recently made a post about my experience at New York Fashion Week a few weeks ago and if you haven't read it yet, visit the post…

[oonandhergoons-blog]

June 30-July 1, 2017

Sorry for the lack of posting the last few days! With the next two posts, I hope to get you all caught up.

On Friday (June 30), the majority of us, minus Ashley and Mom, who were super exhausted from the day before, decided to take a scenic car ride through Achill Island. We had gone to the tourism office that morning and the woman working there basically told us that the two biggest things to do in Achill were to run July 1 marathon and go sightseeing. Since a few of our group were already planning to do the first, we decided to do the latter to pass the time.

Our first stop was to one of Achill’s five Blue Flag Beaches. If a beach is granted a Blue Flag, it means that it is very environmentally friendly and clean, and a lovely spot for people to go swimming. The water was insanely clear, as has been the trend through our Irish inventors, and was definitely a sight to see. As we were leaving, a family drove up and unpacked a bunch of floaties and beach toys. It was really adorable.

(Buckle up, these aren't even the best pictures.)

Our main goal of this road trip was to reach the statue of Our Lady that the tourism lady said was at the top of one of Achill’s mountains. The driving there made us all really nervous, but even on the precarious roads going up the mountain, the views outside were stunning. I only took a few pictures on this particular stretch of road because I knew the view would only get better at the top. And I was most assuredly not wrong.

We actually were not able to drive the whole way up to the statue. There were a series of cell phone towers that were strategically placed at one of the peaks of the mountain, around which were a few gravelly spots where a car could be parked. We parked the car here and spent a few moments talking to the sheep that were in that area before starting our (supposedly) short climb up to the mountain.

The climb ended up feeling vaguely like something out of the Twilight Zone because the statue always seemed like it was the same distance away no matter how far we climbed. Plus, the wind was SO STRONG. I could actually lean back against it and it would hold me up. However, we eventually made it up there.

And WOW.

The view from the top of that mountain was unlike anything I have ever seen before and probably ever will see again. I tried to take as many pictures as possible, but even these don’t do it justice.

It honestly felt like being on top of the world. The five of us spent a good half hour just sitting on the side of the mountain and taking it all it. There was hardly any wind where we were sitting and it was warm and sunny and just absolutely perfect.

We eventually made our way back to the car, but that view is definitely something I wouldn’t be forgetting for a very long time.

We then began moseying our way over to the White Cliffs of Achill. However, we encounter a little bit of a problem on our trip.

It is absolutely astonishing how frequently sheep were walking in the road. They didn't pay any attention to us.

Don’t worry, though. After this small delay, we made it over to the cliffs and once again, WOW. I’ve honestly never seen so many stunning views in such a small area.

Here are Cuchulain and Claire being complete nerds. (Side note: Cuchulain insulted my “stupid camera” a mere moment before this photo was taken. I’ll have you, the viewers, be imagine how I reacted to that.)

After drooling over the beauty of the cliffs for a few brief minutes, we hopped back in the car in order to drive over to the Pirate Queen’s Castle (otherwise known as Kildavnet Castle). We were bopping along our pleasant and deadly mountain road when all of a sudden, we saw this sign.

Pretty blunt, right? We all thought it was really amusing and kept an eye out for the thing that it was referring to. However, we shortly found out that the “thing” was literally RIGHT BEHIND the sign.

Naturally, we pulled the car over and proceeded to do almost exactly what the funny sign warned against, which was getting right up near the edge of the cliff. See those tiny multicolored specks in the picture above? Yeah, those are Claire, Cuchulain, Finn, and Dad, with Finn being the one that decided to go a ledge lower than everyone else. This cliff was literally so tall and dropped so suddenly that I was getting dizzy just trying to look down at the bottom, so I was not participating in that particular part of the adventure.

There were also some incredible views shortly after these cliffs, all of which were just amplified by how gorgeous and sunny the day was. We really chose the perfect day to take this trip.

Oh, and here’s another pic of Cuchulain looking like an idiot.

Finally, after all of these unexpected (but not unwelcome) pit stops, we made it to the Pirate Queen’s Castle, which actually ended up being more of just a tower, but was beautiful in its own way nonetheless.

This concluded the majority of our sightseeing, with our final stop being at a grocery store to pick up ingredients for dinner (lots of carbs for the runners). IT was then a straight shot back to the house.

After dinner, Finn and Ashley pointed out that the neighbor’s sheepdog was rounding up the sheep directly next to the house. The majority of us raced outside and discovered that they were getting ready to shear them! We stood around and watched them like a bunch of tourists and got to talk with the husband of our Air B&B hostess, a lovely man named Paul. He was very willing to talk and answered all of our questions about living in Achill and even offered up some additional stories. By the end of the hour, we had seen twenty sheep shorn and made our way back into the house as it got colder. And thus concludes the day of June 30.

The next day, July 1, a.k.a. the day of the half marathon, was much less eventful. That is to say, there weren't as many separate small events, just one big one in the morning.

All of us got up fairly early and made our way down to the start line, where Cuchulain, Claire, and Dad warmed up before the race started at ten-thirty. Basically immediately after they got started, it starting raining very hard, so Ashley, Finn, Mom, and I made our way over to the Beehive, which is this cute restaurant in the middle of Dooagh. We stayed there for two whole hours due to our unwillingness to go back out into the rain. Mom ended up leaving after only an hour because she wanted to make sure she didn’t miss any of our runners finishing. The remaining three of us apparently had much less faith in them and made our way to the finish line about fifteen minutes past noon. Once we got there, we found that Claire had finished first out of the three (woo hoo!) before we got there, but I got to get a few pictures of the two hooligans crossing the finish line.

We then got a victory shot of the three of them in front of some of the many beautiful cliffs of Achill.

And a more accurate shot showing Claire’s superiority.

The lot of us then headed back to the house to freshen up and rest for a few hours before packing ourselves back into the car and saying goodbye to Achill as we headed for Galway. Cormac was flying into Dublin on the 2nd, so we figured it would be easier to drive halfway back the night before and drive the rest of the way the next morning.

We played several rounds of various car games to keep ourselves amused for the three-hour car ride, but eventually we got tired and spent the last hour resting. The roads seemed to get narrower and narrower the closer we got to our destination, and we shared a few of them with a couple of big tractors, which was definitely very interesting. However, around eight p.m., we made it safely to the Air B&B, which was this 150-year-old country house out in the middle of nowhere. It was really beautiful and recently remodeled and I’m ninety percent sure it was haunted.

We then went out for a nice dinner at a nearby hotel restaurant before retiring to our beds early in preparation for the early morning.

Again, apologies for the late posts! Will do my best to fill in all the days that I’ve been missing!